《What Little Remains Of Terpsichore Ironheart》


 Book 1, Chapter 1

    "There," I said, after tightening the last screw. "It should be working again now, Uncle."


    "Ah, thank you, Joseph," Uncle Frederick said, as he levered himself into his wheelchair. "Such a sweet young lad... Mmm, yes, that is much better. Such a smart young lad, too."


    "I''ll take the compliment, but honestly, this was one of the simplest things a machinist could do," I said, rubbing the back of my head. "I just had to replace a cheap pot metal bushing with a proper bushing made of brass. I''ll admit I did go a touch overboard with the grease port, but... well, no sense being sloppy... Also, I got bored and started adding features."


    Uncle Frederick simply laughed. He was a half-elf, and at 500 years old, he was in the twilight of his life, his body slowly but surely failing him. But... well, that''s why I was born. My father had been unwilling to bring a child into this world, ever since we lost the War Of The Roses, but when Frederick insisted that his brother have a child before he died, my dad gave in, and I was born some three years later.


    It was usually hard to distinguish a half-elf from a human, going purely by visual cues; half-elves typically didn''t have the pointed ears of full-blooded elves, and those were the only thing you could conclusively point to as a telltale difference between humans and elves. As such, to a human who wasn''t terribly familiar with elves, Frederick might not have looked like a half-elf, but just an old man, whose pale skin had gone wrinkly, and whose hair had gone stark white. Hell, the fact he was particularly skinny didn''t even distinguish him that much; human men typically lost weight in their old age, as the muscles of their prime began to atrophy. Of course, if you were familiar with elves, you''d recognize the distinctly elven cast to his features- the sharpness of his nose and chin, the shape of his eyes, that sort of thing- but those features could occur in ordinary humans, so...


    The actual most obvious sign he was a half elf, funnily enough, was one that could quite easily be applied to a human man: he was wearing a High Elven house robe, constructed from long pieces of fabric that were only a foot and a half wide, and had been sewn together at the edges to form the garment. In this day of mechanization, that fabric hadn''t been woven by hand, but it still had the traditionally elven patterns of leaf and flower motifs, which I''d always thought were pretty, but not quite to my own tastes.


    "So," Uncle Frederick said, already fishing around in his pocket. "How much machine-time was that? And what are the going rates for brass, these days?"


    "Oh, I stole the brass from the school machine shop," I said easily. "Sped through the actual assignment so I''d have time to make that bushing before I had to leave. But if you''re going to insist on compensating me, Uncle... How about satisfying my curiosity, and telling me one more story about Grandpa?"


    "There aren''t that many stories left to tell," Frederick admitted, as he wheeled himself to the shelf, where he kept his hand-written collection of his father''s stories. "But... you and I both know you mean the big story. The story of how he met my mother, and saved the world. The story you''ve waited so patiently to hear... Well, Joseph, you''re eighteen, now. By human reckoning, you''re a man, not a boy. And I think you''re finally ready.


    I sat down like I was six years old again, eagerly listening to my uncle as he prepared to tell me another story about the Brave Mage-Knight, Artorias Wind-Caller.


    "Get back up, Joseph," Frederick said, shaking his head. "Sit down on the couch. This story is uncomfortable."


    "...Oh."


    "We''ve talked before about how Elven Mage-Knights rode unicorns, and how a Mage-Knight''s unicorn was his partner, closer than anyone else," Frederick said. "And we''ve talked about how, to ride a unicorn, you have to be a virgin."


    "I think I can see where this is going," I said quietly.


    "Your grandfather, Artorias Wind-Caller, became very familiar with the boundaries of what did and did not count as far as virginity was concerned," Frederick said. "And unfortunately, due to both the Primal magics wielded by a Mage-Knight and the Occult magics wielded by my mother, Terpsichore Ironheart- the woman who gave myself and your father our last names- a lot of those escapades are directly relevant to the story at hand."


    "So that''s why you wouldn''t tell me this story when I was seven," I said.


    "Elves are, as a people, less afraid of sex than humans are, but that doesn''t mean we''re going to tell a story about mystically-significant blowjobs to a literal child," Frederick said. "But, well. You''re a man, now. And it''s time you learned the truth."


    <hr>


    The story, in brief, was pretty simple: Terpsichore Ironheart was a member of the Bard''s Guild, and she had, through happenstance, ended up on the trail of a demonic cult, and tracked them into the wilderness... which she was not terribly prepared for, as a Bard is a creature of civilization, and Occult magics are nearly useless in the absence of other people. Thankfully, she was found before she could suffer any real harm by a patrolling Mage-Knight, Artorias Wind-Caller. Now, as it so happened, Terpsichore Ironheart was quite beautiful, and had the traditional Bardic lack of sexual inhibitions; after ''thanking'' her rescuer, she found it very easy to convince him to join her on her hunt.


    There were a number of skirmishes with various cultists along the way, but the most notable encounter was with a Succubus named Volex. Succubi were beings of Occult magic, the magic of ideas and narratives and the strange quirks of how people thought, and they were empowered by the tropes and narratives they played into. Ordinarily, a Succubus set upon an Elven Mage-Knight would seize upon a narrative of corruption and temptation.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Unfortunately for whoever summoned Volex to deal with the Mage-Knight hounding their cult, Volex had to deal with Terpsichore Ironheart, who presented an alternative narrative that Volex found compelling. I am not going to go into detail, but suffice to say that Terpsichore Ironheart tricked a Succubus into competing for the lusts of a horny young man, and then she won.


    Well, after that, Volex was bound into an occult reliquary, which was used for one last technically-not-sex ritual to finally track down the demon cult to their true lair, where the cultists were on the cusp of finally summoning Demon King Paimon into the mortal realm, and Artorias and Terpsichore stopped them just in the nick of time.


    After having exterminated the Cult of Demon King Paimon, Artorias Wind-Caller announced his retirement from the knighthood; he had done enough, and it was now time to produce the next generation of Mage-Knights. And as it so happened, his fiance Elana Blackthorn took an immediate liking to Terpsichore as well.


    A year after Artorias'' retirement, Frederick Ironheart was born, and seven years later- did you know that an elven woman ovulates once every ten years?- Napoleon Ironheart, my father, was born.


    Elven households with multiple mothers, and/or multiple fathers, weren''t that unusual, at least among the elites of elven society. There were established customs and rituals in place, and as it so happens, for the son of Artorias Wind-Caller and Elana Blackthorn to be given the name of Ironheart was a sign of the immense esteem and affection that Terpsichore was held in by Elana. To Frederick''s recollection, the two loved each other dearly, and Elana had been inconsolable for years upon Terpsichore''s death.


    "I wish you could''ve met them," Frederick said, with a sigh. "Such wonderful people, each and every one of them. My mother was the happiest woman I''d ever known, and whenever she wasn''t playing an instrument, she was always singing something. Even... even on her deathbed... with her last breath..."


    I nodded slowly, wiping a tear from my eye. At least Terpsichore died in peace.


    When I was seven years old, my parents rewarded me for my diligence and good behavior with a pet rat, teaching me the important skills involved in taking care of a pet, so that I could be further rewarded by the unconditional love and affection of a little furry animal that was so smart and so clever and so full of personality. And then, when I was ten years old, I learned more about death, as I buried my dearest friend Arthur in a flowerpot, and my father told me the story of how Artorias and Elana died in the War Of The Roses.


    As I grew older, and learned more and more about the history of my people, I no longer thought it a special tragedy that my grandparents died in the War Of The Roses. These days, I thought it a wonder that there were any elves older than three hundred still alive.


    "...Thank you, Uncle," I said, placing a comforting hand over his. "I wish I could''ve met them too."


    We simply sat there, for a while. This wasn''t the first time I''d heard of Terpsichore Ironheart; Uncle Frederick had told me stories about his mother before. This was just... the first time I knew precisely how she became his mother.


    Maybe I''m just not being enough of a mature adult about the subject, but why did Frederick know that many details about Grandpa''s sexcapades?


    "...So, graduation is coming up, I hear?" Uncle Frederick said, changing the subject. "What''s your plan for afterwards, my boy?"


    "I''m gonna try my luck with the Mage''s Guild," I said. "If they can''t get Mom, maybe they''ll be willing to settle for me."


    "And... if they decide they don''t want an elven wizard among their ranks?"


    I shrugged. "Well, I''m on track to graduate with Novice certifications as a wizard and a machinist. If I can''t get a decent job with that, then I''m not really trying, am I?"


    "Fair enough, my boy, fair enough," Uncle Frederick said. "Well, I wish you the best of luck, and I hope I live long enough to see you make something of yourself."


    "You''re not... dying soon, are you?" I asked. "Or... How long do you think you have left?"


    "Oh, at least twenty years," Uncle Frederick said, waving his hand dismissively. "I am not so old and feeble, Joseph. If you hurry, you can still introduce me to your children. Maybe with that nice Talia girl?"


    "Possibly," I said, shrugging. Talia was... a complicated subject, for me. On the one hand, we were close friends, who''d known each other our whole lives, growing up next door to each other in a tiny little elven enclave in a big human city. She was very pretty, and seemed to like me an awful lot, if the fact she kissed me every day was any indication.


    On the other hand... well, I''d grown up on stories of Elven Mage-Knights, mounted on unicorns, and I never could bring myself to accept that I''d never get to ride a unicorn. Every so often, there were sightings of wood elves on unicorns, out on the frontier, and... well, I had this idea in my head that, one day, I''d finally get out there, meet a unicorn, earn their trust, and re-ignite the legend of the Elven Mage-Knight.


    And it turns out that a longshot aspiration that hinges on remaining a virgin for a long time isn''t very compatible with having a girlfriend.


    But, well. Talia and I were both full-blooded elves. We''d both live forever. She herself had said she could afford to wait.


    "I''ll let you know what happens, Uncle," I said. "Right now, though... I should probably be studying for my exams."


    "Go study, boy. Don''t let an old man keep you any longer; I''ll still be here when you''re done."


    "Love you, Uncle."


    "I love you too, my boy. Good luck."

 Book 1, Chapter 2

    I did a round of spell practice for my upcoming wizardry exam- the question of which spells I would have to be able to cast for the exam had been answered for years thanks to it being a standardized exam administered by the Mage''s Guild- and then decided that I''d been more than productive enough for one day, and that I should reward myself for my efforts.


    "Hello there, Joseph," Antiope said, as I walked into the store. "How''s Frederick doing?"


    "Just got done fixing his wheelchair, so maybe he''ll come by tomorrow and tell you himself," I said. "He told me he''s got at least two more decades in him, though."


    "Color me surprised," Tim said, carefully levitating a heavy cardboard box down from a high shelf. "I know he''s a half-elf and all, but a creaky old man like that feels like he should be dying in a few years, y''know?"


    Antiope and Tim were interesting figures in Greenwood Village- or ''Elftown,'' as some outsiders called our neighborhood. Antiope was a druid, just like my dad, although she wasn''t quite as powerful as the guy who''d been trained by a unicorn for two centuries before the War. But, like Dad, she''d settled down here in Greenwood Village pretty soon after the War, and hadn''t moved since. Over the course of her three centuries here, she''d ended up marrying a succession of human men, raising children with them, and mourning their loss, until this time, the man she met and fell in love with happened to be an elf.


    Tim, by contrast, was far closer to a peer to me, for all that he was more than old enough to be my father. He was a full-blooded elf, just like Antiope, but unlike Antiope and most of the other elves in Greenwood Village, he was in his mid-40s, and had never known a world where elves weren''t a subject people of the Hikaano Empire. And for some reason, despite Tim having been just as old as Antiope''s human husbands had been when they first met... Iunno. Something about it always wigged me out, a little. Like Antiope was a real elf, and Tim was just some pale blonde guy who happened to have pointy ears.


    "I get what you mean," I said. "Twenty years is plenty of time for him to have some kind of household accident, even with him being a pretty meticulous and careful man who lives with a powerful druid. I might not have that full twenty years. But... well. I hope I do."


    "I hope so too," Tim said. "I''ll admit, I wasn''t super sure about bringing Frederick into the publishing house, but I am more than happy to be proven wrong. That dude can write."


    "Speaking of the publishing house..." I began, pulling out a few shiny brass dollar coins and setting them on the counter.


    "Yep, got your monthlies right here," Antiope said, reaching under the counter and rummaging through a box. "Here we are." She pulled a stack of comic books out and dropped them on the counter. "You do know we carry comic books starring boys, right?"


    "Do you really need me to explain why a teenage boy would prefer looking at drawings of, shall we say, larger than life women?" I said dryly.


    "Suit yourself," Antiope said, jotting down a note in her records- that I''d come to pick up my monthly subscriptions, what time I''d done that, and a bunch of other tedious bookkeeping stuff that gave Antiope an objective view of which hours were the busiest for her family''s store, and thus required more staffing. After all, it wasn''t just her and Tim who worked here, they were simply the only ones here right now. "Enjoy yourself, young man."


    "I fully intend to," I said, nodding back at her as I stowed the thick stack of books in my coat''s internal Bag of Holding. "Tell Talia I said hi."


    "I''m here!" Talia called, before bursting out of the stairwell behind the counter and soaring through the air at me.


    "Do we have to do this every time?" I asked, as I caught Talia in midair with a burst of arcane force. "You know I''m going to screw it up and break something eventually, right?"


    "But it''s funnn," Talia whined.


    "Everything on that side of the counter is enchanted for durability," Tim added. "It''ll be fine."


    I rolled my eyes, and threw my arms open to accept the inevitable Talia Hug, which came right on cue.


    Talia wasn''t built like the typical elf. The typical elf was tall and slender, and with even weaker sexual dimorphism than the already weak dimorphism of humans- there was a reason the human idea of "androgynous" was simply "an ordinary elf." And while Talia''s parents, both being noticeably shorter than the average elf, could possibly explain why Talia was eighteen years old and still only five feet tall, there was no reasonable explanation for why Talia was so curvy. Not that I was complaining, mind you; Talia was a very affectionate friend, and... well...


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    ...I was the grandson of Artorias Wind-Caller. He liked ''em thick, and so do I.


    I had to inherit something, didn''t I?


    "Mom, Dad, can I-" Talia began.


    "You''re an adult, you can do what you want," Antiope said.


    "Have fun," Tim added.


    ---


    "You sure do read a lot of comic books about girls kissing, huh?" Talia remarked, as we sat on the roof of my house and picked through my monthly subscriptions for the most tantalizing bits.


    "You''re also reading them," I pointed out.


    "Yeah, but I''m a girl," Talia said. "It''s normal for me."


    "I''m pretty sure the humans would disagree with that," I said. "I just enjoy artwork of attractive women, and happen to prefer it in a context where there isn''t some random-ass poorly-written dude I have to pretend isn''t there. You enjoying that same artwork for the same reasons, though, would be ''elven deviancy,'' because humans are homophobic."


    "The comic books are also elven deviancy," Talia pointed out. "That''s why Greenwood Village has its own publishing house, remember?"


    My mother, a powerful wizard, was already expected to keep up with technological innovations as part of her work as a wizard-for-hire. As such, she''d often fill her free time by tinkering with various iterations of the printing press, and ended up sponsoring a small publishing house in our neighborhood just to get the damn presses out of our house.


    Naturally, the local publishing house that existed entirely because a powerful wizard realized she didn''t have a use for all these printing presses but still wanted someone to use them ended up getting a lot of use from locals with their own artistic impulses, printing all sorts of random bullshit... until someone managed to print something that people actually liked, and suddenly Greenwood Village''s artistic community began to take the publishing house much more seriously.


    The publishing house''s output was pretty diverse, all told. Most of its output was serialized media, usually on either a weekly or monthly basis, although it did publish a few whole, standalone works that weren''t just lightly-edited collections of a serialized work. Some people published an ongoing story about the adventures of some fictitious protagonist, some published fictitious stories about real historical people, and some people just wrote a new thing every week or month that was in the same vein as the things they''d made every publishing cycle for the past while and so simply slapped the same name on it and called it a day.


    "Yeah, but humans are more fine with women kissing each other than men doing so," I said. "Since humans are, generally, pretty patriarchal, and boys think it''s hot when girls kiss but gross when boys do it. I understand it''s currently not happening, but I think it plausibly could happen that a human publishing house decided to launch its own answer to ''Girls Loving Girls In Improbable Situations.''"


    "They''d fuck up the improbable situations," Talia muttered. "They wouldn''t get that the series is a high-concept joke about strange adventures that always end the same way: with two chicks making out."


    "Sure, but I think there''s still some artistic merit to drawings of girls kissing, even if they''re not the punchline to a high concept joke," I said. "I mean, let''s be real with each other: you know I''m not reading this series because it makes me laugh."


    "Right, you''re reading it because you''re theoretically into girls," Talia said.


    "Talia," I began, wearily.


    "Come on, man," Talia pleaded. "The unicorns are gone. The mage-knights are gone. The old days are gone, and were gone since long before you were born. Your insistence on maintaining your virginity-"


    "Talia," I said, more firmly. "We''re not having this argument again. Yes, you''re my girlfriend. Yes, I do think you''re attractive. Yes, I do intend to put a few babies in you one day. But... not yet. The unicorns are not gone. Sightings are rare, out on the frontier, but they do happen, and they are still out there. For so long as they''re still out there... I can''t give up hope. Elken could still be alive."


    "He probably died in the War."


    "He threw his own rider into a snowbank and ran away; if any unicorn survived the War Of The Roses, it would be Elken." I shrugged. "But even if he has died in the time since, we know there are some unicorns left."


    "Joseph..."


    "My father was a mage-knight. His father was a mage-knight. And his father, too." I clenched my fist. "I''m the latest in a long line of mage-knights."


    Talia simply sighed, but I kept going.


    "If anyone is going to bring them back, it''s going to be me."

 Book 1, Chapter 3

    "Hey, Joe!"


    "Carl, Jimmy," I said, turning to regard the two boys as they rushed over. "You two pass?"


    "Hell yeah we did!" Carl said. "I''m gonna join the Merchant''s Guild!"


    "The Bard''s Guild proctor said he liked the cut of my jib," Jimmy added. "What about you?"


    "Passed my machining and wizardry test," I said.


    "Even though you don''t know shit about material components?" Carl asked.


    "I knew enough to pass," I said with a shrug.


    The thing about magic was that it took energy to do. Human wizards typically used material components- items with some small amount of magical energy within them- to make spellcasting easier, but the elven tradition was a lot more straightforward: it was more time-efficient to simply get strong enough to cast spells without material components than it was to learn how to gather or create them yourself. Humans, though, just did more division of labor, and shunted that duty off to apprentices or even hired hands who didn''t have any spellcasting ability whatsoever, until the modern day, when the production of material components was a big business, and elves still preferred to do without.


    "Weirdo," Carl said affectionately.


    "Eh, not that weird," Jimmy said. "Bard magic doesn''t use material components either."


    "That too," I said. "Anyhow, I''ll see you guys around- gotta meet up with Talia, you know how it is."


    They nodded, and I walked off.


    I''d be the first to admit that I was not exactly comfortable with other boys. It wasn''t just a humans versus elves thing, mind you- Carl and Jimmy were from Greenwood Village, from the families of humans who''d grown up around the same handful of elves who, lacking anything better to do, invested heavily in building up the community. My own father, Napoleon Ironheart, a masterful druid who was at least the peer of any Healer''s Guild member, attended and aided with every single birth in the neighborhood, and hadn''t had a single death on his hands in all that time. So if any humans could be trusted to be fair and even-minded about elves, it was boys like Carl and Jimmy, to whom elves were respected, friendly, and upstanding members of the community.


    And yet... I just wasn''t comfortable with them. It wasn''t even that I felt like they were forcing it, that they wanted to be my friend because my dad was Napoleon Ironheart, and they wanted to get in the good graces of an immortal elf; I was a lot more comfortable around girls, and some of them absolutely looked at me like a piece of meat with the words "social status" written on it in gold leaf.


    In the end, Talia was the only person I honestly felt I could call a friend.


    But. Well.


    She was one hell of a friend, I''ll tell you that.


    ---


    "I still can''t believe you managed to get away with all that shit," Talia said, as we walked off of the stage, diplomas in hand and horridly cheap and uncomfortable robes draped over our real clothes. "You really mean to tell me you used the school machine shop to build your own machine shop?"


    "Honestly, if anything, I was encouraged to do this," I said. "The shop teacher likes me, and he''s the one who told me that a good machinist can use one machine shop to build all the machines he needs for a new one. And, well... I decided that that sounded like a fun challenge, and he slipped me some schematics."


    "Still..."


    "Also, it helps that I''m also, y''know, a wizard, and I could keep my personal projects in a Bag of Holding on the inside of my coat," I continued.


    I was, in fact, still wearing my coat, even under the awful graduation robes. My coat was, really, a duster- a long, loose overcoat meant to protect a horseman''s clothing from the dust of the road. Typically, a duster would be made from oiled or waxed canvas, but despite everything, my family was still one of some means, and I''d managed to secure for myself a duster made of leather, which had promptly been loaded up with every manner of preservative enchantment I could muster, turning it from a sturdy, reliable garment that''d serve me well for decades to something even an elf would consider an heirloom, with a lifespan measured in centuries.


    Underneath that, though, I wore far more modest and common clothing- a cheap cotton button-down shirt and a pair of blue denim pants, plus a pair of sturdy, nice-but-not-fancy, leather work boots, with steel toe-caps to keep me from losing a toe every time I drop a crate.


    "That reminds me!" Talia said, snapping her fingers. "I want a Bag of Holding too!"


    "Sure, I can make one for you," I said easily. "You want it as a hip pouch, something you sew to the inside of a jacket, or...?"


    "I," Talia said haughtily, "would like a Bag of Holding that''s hidden inside my cleavage."


    "...Okay, now that''s a challenge," I said, frowning. "Because correct me if I''m wrong, but there isn''t usually a piece of fabric solidly wedged into your cleavage, right?"


    Talia was, for today, wearing fairly casual clothes, given the graduate''s robe she knew she''d be wearing on top of them. She wore a stretchy shirt made of knit cotton, which was usually worn as an undergarment but which she decided was perfectly acceptable outerwear, along with a pleated skirt that came down to her knees, made of green fabric that''d been woven in Greenwood Village. Her own shoes were always very minimal and cheap sandals, which might well have been made from cardboard for all I knew; she was a practicing druid, and despite the fact my dad said no such thing, she claimed that shoes were unnatural and disturbed her connection to the living earth.


    "Well, no," Talia began.


    "So I''d have to put sticking charms on the outside to anchor it in place, so it doesn''t slide around too much," I continued. "And I don''t know how much you''d like having a bag glued between your boobs."


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    "...It''s a work in progress," Talia said, sighing.


    "Hey, knife-ear," a voice called, approaching us from behind. "Outta my way. I''m finally gettin'' me a piece of that girl."


    "Hello, John," I said, as Talia and I turned to face a gaggle of three big human boys. "Just what do you think you''re doing?"


    John was one example of what humans who don''t grow up around elves are like: fully capable of acknowledging elf women as beautiful, but desiring them as trophies, and regarding elf men as obstacles.


    "Listen here, knife-ear-" John began.


    "My name''s Joseph. I''ll even let you call me Joe."


    I bent backwards, dodging John''s wild swing.


    "Listen here," John repeated, growling as he stepped forward. "We ain''t in school no more, and I can''t get suspended for kickin'' your ass up and down the street. So, pretty-boy, how''s about you learn your place and- Hey! Put me down!"


    Arcane spellcasting could be summarized in just three words: Mind Over Matter. A good wizard developed their skills of focus and visualization to hold a complex spell formula in their head in order to cast that spell on the fly... and a wizard who wasn''t fucking around would figure out what spells they most needed in situations where that kind of focus just wasn''t an option, and embed those spell formulae into rings they could just wear on their fingers.


    I was wearing a lot of rings on my fingers, each and every one of which was my own custom work, made from carefully-scribed-and-rolled paper to hold the actual formula and a brass housing. And for reasons that included, but were not limited to, being a machinist who semi-frequently works with big heavy pieces of metal that I have to move around, one of my rings was for a spell of levitation, which was currently lifting John Courser, Colton Thompson, and Elias Smith straight up into the air.


    "You''re lucky I don''t want your blood on me, or else I might''ve listened to you," I said as I continued lifting them up. The building they were holding our graduation ceremony in had high ceilings, about forty feet off the ground, and in lieu of a classical, self-supporting arch, the roof was just a flat plane that was supported by steel trusses acting as rafters. "Grab on tight, boys, because this spell ends when I''m done talking, and what happens next is your problem!"


    Right on cue, I let go of the spell, and the three of them just barely managed to grab onto the rafters before they dropped. That was good for them, of course, because a forty foot fall had a serious chance of breaking their legs, backs, necks- really, any and every bone in their body. But, well. Now they had to figure out how to get down safely. I certainly didn''t have anything in mind- I had not been kidding when I said what happened next was their problem.


    "C''mon, Talia, let''s get outta here."


    ---


    "Have you been able to do that this whole time?" Talia asked, that evening. The two of us were in my room, where we''d whiled away countless afternoons and evenings, keeping each other sane through the endless death march of homework and studying. School was over, now, but some habits still remained.


    "Not the whole time," I said. "Self-defense via arcane magic isn''t always an option, unless you''re okay with the risk that you''ll kill the guy you''re defending yourself from. And while I might have been able to get away with roughing them up a little... well, one, there''s a reason I didn''t just punch ''em in the throat: elves just don''t get stronger as fast as humans do, and those assholes are on the stronger end of the human bell curve. One day, I''ll be physically stronger than any ordinary human, but for now? I get to be part of the reason people think elves are weak and frail."


    "And two, if you did kill them with magic, even if it was obvious self-defense... Well. Who''s gonna take the knife-ear''s side in that?" Talia said bitterly.


    "Yeah," I said, nodding. "Still... the more I think about it... The more I think I should''ve just done it. Use some basic attack magic to break their legs directly, teach ''em not to fuck with me." I sighed wistfully. "Oh well. Considering how life goes for me, I''m sure I''ll have an opportunity to blow out some fuckwit''s kneecaps sooner or later."


    "Okay, now I''m a little worried in the other direction," Talia said. "You okay?"


    "Been better," I said. "I finally showed up my high school bullies, but... it doesn''t feel like an accomplishment. Some pathetic kids who straight up did not understand who they were messing with got levitated into the rafters. That wasn''t really an unambiguous beatdown, honestly- felt more like a meanspirited prank. It just doesn''t feel satisfying."


    "Y''know what would feel satisfying?"


    "Getting accepted into the Mage''s Guild?"


    "Getting to fuck the hot elf girl those losers were drooling over," Talia said.


    "...Will you take a kiss and a rain-check?" I asked.


    My answer wasn''t verbal, but it was understandable enough, given how long it took for Talia to let me stop kissing her.


    "I will be cashing that rain check," Talia threatened, once she decided she''d had enough for now. "Anyway. You still planning on joining the Mage''s Guild?"


    "Well, I gotta make money somehow, if I''m gonna pay for an expedition to the frontier," I said, a little surprised by the change of subject. "Mage''s Guild makes a lot of money."


    "You know it''s a primarily human institution, right? Elves don''t exactly get warm welcomes there." Unless they were my mother, in which case the Mage''s Guild would debase themselves quite far in an attempt to bring her into the fold, but I wasn''t my mother, so...


    "Oh, I''m aware," I said. "But I''ve got a trick for that. Y''know how I''m a wizard, who casts Arcane magic? Y''know, your classic ''mind over matter'' spells?"


    "Yeah?"


    "Well, I''ve learned a thing or two about Occult magic, too," I said, grinning. Just because I didn''t consider Jimmy to be a friend didn''t mean we had no real interaction; he''d been very willing to share his Occultism study materials with me, for the low, low price of helping him make sense of it all. "The magic of narrative, practiced by bards and weird pseudo-intellectuals who somehow don''t realize they''re just doing what bards do but the hard way for no reason. And I''ve figured out how to weave a subtle spell that''ll let me charm my way in without getting caught."


    "You sure about that?" Talia asked.


    I simply grinned wider, and leaned back in my chair. "I''ve got an interview with Magister Brown tomorrow, as a point of fact."


    "...Oh."

 Book 1, Chapter 4

    "The four schools of magic, as they are currently reckoned, are Divine, Primal, Arcane, and Occult," I said. "Divine and Primal magic are both powered by the mage''s relationship with a larger power, while Arcane and Occult magic are powered purely by the mage''s own will. Meanwhile, Primal and Arcane magic primarily deal with the material, whereas Divine and Occult magic primarily deal with the spiritual- although that isn''t to say there''s no crossover or overlap, as many Arcane spells can affect spiritual subjects, and many Divine spells have material effects."


    "Good, good," Mom said. Ariel Silver was an old elf- how old, I wasn''t sure, she never would tell me, but she certainly did remember the time before the War, and what High Elven culture was like before it. Her surname, Silver, was a special one among high elves- it wasn''t a name people were born with, usually, but rather, one they took on themselves, when they wished to disavow the family they''d been born to.


    What I did know about her past was this: she was a natural redhead, which was typical of the High Elven nobility, but kept her hair bleached white like a commoner. Considering I''d inherited that red hair from her- my father had been born blonde, although his hair was dyed green by his use of Primal magic, as had Talia''s- I could only hope that she didn''t see a painful memory every time she looked at me.


    "Now, this is less for the interview, and more to satisfy me," Mom continued. "I want to make sure you''ve truly learned from me."


    Ariel Silver was also a genuine scholar of magic, and not simply a mage who studied magic to advance their own practice of it. She studied the history, how other people had felt about magic through the ages, and all manner of other things that a "proper" Guild Mage would regard as trifling curiosities, rather than a serious area of magical study.


    "What does a society''s favored forms of magic say about it?"


    (Of course, just because Mom was a scholar didn''t mean she wasn''t a damn good wizard. She wasn''t a member of the Mage''s Guild, but that was more because she hated the Hikaano Pantheon and their sponsored Guilds; the Mage''s Guild had very much tried to recruit her a few times. She had mixed feelings about me trying to join the Mage''s Guild myself, but as near as I can tell, she ultimately settled on the stance that, so long as I didn''t delude myself into thinking the Guilds were my friends, and kept my eyes on the prize of making money to fund my ventures, then she''d support me as best she could, as a mother should support her son.)


    "Well, quite a lot, usually," I said. "For one, nearly no large society favors only a single school of magic over the others; each school is quite incomplete on its own, and leaves gaps that need to be covered. However... strangely, most societies seem to favor two of the four schools of magic, and I don''t really know why. I know that the Hikaano Empire favors Arcane and Divine magic, which creates a strong conceptual divide between the sacred and the profane in their thinking, with Arcane magic being seen more as an unusually useful skill rather than as something of the same kind as Divine magic. I also know that the High Elves favored Arcane and Primal magic, reflecting our prioritization of the material world over the spiritual."


    "Anything else? Perhaps about societies you don''t live in?"


    "Well, there''s the Wood Elves, who supposedly favored Primal and Occult magics- Primal to help them live off the land, and Occult to hide them from outsiders and throw off the trail. There''s the Green Orcs, who favor Divine and Primal magics due to the both of them being about connection to a greater power, and thus being considered holy in comparison to the more individualistic magics of the Arcane and Occult. And... I think the Tordan Empire favors the individualistic magics of the Arcane and Occult over the more communion-based Primal and Divine." I tapped my chin. "...It feels like there should be some society that favors Divine and Occult as a representation of their focus on the spiritual rather than material, but if they exist, they have completely slipped my mind."


    Mom nodded. "You''ve forgotten the Alpine Goblins; they practice a religion that prioritizes the spiritual over the material, which leaks into the cultural practices that aren''t already sacred. They''re a bit isolationist, what with living in some of the most mountainous terrain around and not living primarily underground in well-maintained tunnels like the Mountain Dwarves do, but you might meet one of their shugenja one day, so... it''s good to keep them in mind. We''ll go over geography a bit more later on, but for now... good. I think you''re ready. Your wizardry is good, even if sometimes I worry about your application."


    "Oh?" I asked.


    "You''re a smart boy, and you''ve taken to wizardry naturally," Mom said. "I''ve taught you so much of it, it''s hard for me not to notice. But... Sometimes, there are gaps in your understanding. Gaps that fill quickly, but which tell me... There''s times you say you''re practicing your wizardry on your own, but you aren''t."


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Ah, beans. Okay, so, the truth is that I''ve been dabbling in Occult magic, but... well, Mom doesn''t exactly think highly of the Occult. Says it''s for charlatans and cheaters, and while I can''t completely dispute that... well, sometimes a man needs an ace up his sleeve, y''know?


    "I''m a teenage boy," I said simply. "What do you think I''ve been doing when I''m alone, claiming to be doing something that needed uninterrupted privacy so I could focus?"


    "I assure you, there are ways to multitask."


    "Okay, this conversation is now over, good talk, I''ll see you when I get back from the interview."


    ---


    I''d dolled myself up to look like every other young Guild Mage- a long blue tunic, extremely baggy blue pants that gathered at the waist through a drawstring (concealed by the tunic) and just below my knee through elastic bands, and pointy leather slippers that had been carefully dyed a light powder blue.


    And wearing that ridiculous regalia was a handsome young man of tall and slender build, with sharp, refined features, pale and unmarred skin like fine porcelain, long flame-red hair elegantly slicked back, and all manner of shiny rings adorning his graceful fingers. The spitting image of the ideal young Mage, marred only by two elongated, pointed ears.


    Still, I had my ways around that little handicap.


    It was distressingly easy to cast a spell of friendship on Magister Brown- an ironically-named man, whose pale skin, blonde hair, reedy build, and sharp-faced countenance must have surely seen him field many ''accusations'' of being a half-elf, rather than just a blonde human who never went outside. For all his apparent bookishness, he didn''t seem a terribly impressive mage to me, and considering how impressed he was by my abilities with the arcane- which, sure, were beyond the standard Novice Certification, but not by that much- I was very, very confident that this interview was going to end with me joining the Mage''s Guild.


    Right up until he decided to show me his latest acquisition, just to make himself feel bigger.


    "Behold!" Magister Brown said, pulling away a dropcloth to reveal a statue of a beautiful human woman, wearing a flattering dress of a style I recognized from old drawings, and holding a small harp to the side of her chest, where it created a very lifelike squish and fold in the dress and her breast. "This statue is supposedly of elven make; the script, certainly, looks elven to me. And yet, it depicts an unquestionably human woman, and given its provenance, it is likely some sort of funerary effigy. This, my boy, is going to be the centerpiece in my museum exhibit on the history of friendship between humans and elves! So! What do you think?"


    "...Do you know my name?" I asked mildly, scanning the script on the base of the statue. There was... There was no way this was what I thought it was, no fucking way-


    "Hm? Oh, er... Joseph Ironheart, I should think, yes? Why do you ask?"


    "''In loving memory of Terpsichore Ironheart,''" I read aloud, pointing at the writing on the base of the statue. "''Wife of Artorias Wind-Caller and Elana Blackthorn. Blood-mother of Frederick Ironheart, Lysander Blackthorn, and Rebecca Ironheart. Hearth-mother of Napoleon Ironheart, Elendar Blackthorn, and Rosenthal Ironheart. She was always singing, and brought joy to us all. May her memory be a blessing.''"


    "Oh my," Magister Brown said. "I had no idea you could read elven, my boy! This is wonderful!"


    I pushed past his oblivious surprise that I was literate in my native language, which was by no means lost knowledge, to get to the point of the matter. "This statue was stolen from my father''s home, three centuries ago," I said dryly. "At some point, after the exhibit has been rotated out of the museum, we would like it back."


    Magister Brown reared back with a look of disgust on his face, as though I''d suggested I''d like to knock up his daughter, and possibly also his wife, you know, while I was in the neighborhood.


    "Now see here, my boy," Magister Brown began, beginning to go red in the face, his voice growing imperious. "Three centuries may not be anything to an elf, but by rational sensibilities, it is a very long time indeed! It has long since ceased belonging to your family, and now, it belongs to me! I bought it, it''s mine! And, aside from questions of ownership, this here is historically significant! It belongs in a museum, not in some random person''s house!"


    I''d like to say I considered the situation carefully, but unfortunately, I''ve only got so much patience for self-important humans who think elves aren''t real people. Besides. Mom didn''t need these assholes. Neither did I.


    "Your exhibit on the historical friendship and cooperation between humans and elves is going to star a stolen statue of my grandmother, whose firstborn son is still alive, because your definition of friendship doesn''t include returning stolen property," I said dryly. "Tell me, does the Mage''s Guild approve of this kind of rapacious intellectual dishonesty? Or is your mendacious banditry a blight upon your colleagues?"


    ---


    It wasn''t a surprise that the Mage''s Guild sent me a rejection letter, a few days after that, but it didn''t make me any less angry. But hey, I was already planning to rob the building, just to get back Terpsichore''s effigy. Why stop there, when I could steal some other shit while I was at it, and fund my expedition to the frontier that way?


    It was a surprise, a week after my interview, to hear that I was too late:


    Someone else had robbed Magister Brown''s office, and my grandmother''s effigy was gone.


    Someone was going to bleed for this.

 Book 1, Chapter 5

    "Hey, Talia," I said. "Who''s this?"


    "C''mon, you remember Faith, right?" Talia asked. "She''s my other bestie."


    "Talia, the title of ''your other bestie'' changes hands more often than a penny," I said dryly. "Tell me, did you even know this woman a month ago?"


    "Yeah!" Talia said. "We were both taking the same standardized exam from the Fighter''s Guild! We were in line right next to each other, waiting our turn, since our last names are both Jones, and we got to talking. And now we''re besties!"


    "...Talia, the exams were twenty five days ago," I said. "That''s not a month."


    "It is close enough, according to this druid," Talia said, folding her arms and huffing.


    If I was being honest, I wasn''t sure what Talia intended to do with a Novice Certificate in Martial Arts. She had no ambition to join the Guilds, or the Army, or become a security guard. My guess was, she went through the martial arts program entirely because she thought knowing how to fight was a useful life skill for her. Which... okay, yeah, she''s an elf woman in a human city, and she''s especially attractive. I can see how she''d reach that conclusion. Especially since Napoleon Ironheart the former Mage-Knight was one of her tutors in the ways of the druid, and he certainly had strong opinions about elves knowing how to fight.


    Still. She didn''t need a Novice Certificate to break someone''s knees, just strength and skill. But hey, maybe she thought the point of school was to actually learn things, instead of just proving that you already have. Not everyone could have parents who were already good at teaching their skills to people.


    "Whatever," I said, turning my eyes back towards Talia''s latest ''bestie.'' "Faith, huh?"


    Faith was a human woman, with close-cropped rust-red hair, a tall frame, broad shoulders, and coppery freckles scattershot across her otherwise-pale face. More importantly, though, she was wearing the light grey uniform of the Paladin''s Guild, clearly designed with the same ideas in mind as the Army''s own olive green uniforms; I was a little impressed by how her coat''s sleeves were clearly quite filled-out by the powerful bulk of her arms. Usually humans didn''t develop that kind of muscle until they were in their 20s, if they developed it at all.


    What was probably the more important detail about her sleeves, however, was the dagger-like insignia on each shoulder. Most people didn''t have the full chart memorized, but memorizing things was a basic vocational skill for a mage, and both of my parents thought it was important I understood how to read the ranks of the Paladin''s Guild at a glance. That little dagger told me that she was a fresh recruit, and given how recent graduation was, chances were she''d been wearing this uniform for less than a week.


    It was a little funny, honestly- this redhead was as green as they come. Not that I was gonna say that to her, though; she''s likely already sick of hearing it.


    "So you''re this Joseph fellow I''ve heard so much about," she said, extending a hand for me to shake. "Gotta say, I was expecting someone... smaller."


    "Shock and surprise, elf men are in fact men," I said dryly. "Listen, I know you''re a Paladin and all, but there are a lot of attitudes they push that just are not going to fly here in Greenwood Village. For instance, if you try to give anyone a hard time for being gay, we''re going to put your head on a spike as a warning to the others."


    "...I mean, I am also gay," Faith said, slowly retracting her hand. "The Paladin''s Guild is pretty specific about standards of evidence, so as long as I don''t kiss girls where they can see it, they can''t kick me out for it, but... Well, the Paladins are all about changing the world, and I''m all about changing the Paladins. Proving to them that this is a stupid rule, that gay people can be just as good a Paladin as anyone else."


    "Good luck with that," I said dryly. "The stupid rules are the point. There''s a particular order to things that the Paladins fight to preserve, and all deviations from that order are crimes. That''s the point." I shrugged. "But hey, it''s your time you''re wasting. Have fun with that."


    "Joseph," Talia said, planting her hands on her hips. "Stop being a dick."


    "I''m sorry for remembering the stuff the Paladins have done," I said, rolling my eyes. "Anyway, hi Faith, what''s up?"


    "...As it so happens, I''ve been handed my first case, and... well, I need some help," Faith admitted. "You heard about Magister Brown''s office down at the Mage''s Guild getting robbed, right?"


    "Yeah," I said, gritting my teeth. It''d been in the newspapers this morning. "Bastards stole the funerary effigy of my fucking grandma."


    "They stole more than that, too," Faith said, reaching into her satchel and pulling out a folder full of papers. "According to the report, they also stole an occult reliquary containing a bound Succubus."


    "...Why did he even have that?" I asked, frowning.


    "Apparently, succubus reliquaries like that one have been circulating through the hands of the rich and powerful for a long time," Faith said. "Lotta dirty old men who like the thought of a hot chick who wouldn''t dream of telling ''em no."


    I grunted. "Alright, well... what''re you gonna do about it?"


    Faith stowed her folder back into her satchel, and withdrew a pair of copper badges shaped like swords. "Congratulations, you two have officially been deputized by the Paladin''s Guild. You''ll be entitled to financial compensation for your time at the end of all this, and if we do recover the stolen goods, I''ve heard it looks damn good on a resume."


    "Yeah, like I''m gonna go back to the fucking Mage''s Guild," I muttered. "But... Fine. I don''t have anything better to do, anyways."


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    "We could blow off the investigation to fuck like rabbits?" Talia suggested.


    "Can you chill for ten minutes?" I asked, frowning. "Seriously, girl, what is wrong with you? This is not normal. Faith, back me up on this."


    I regretted that instantly, as Faith looked me over with an appraising eye- it wasn''t the first time a human girl looked at me like a piece of meat, and it probably wouldn''t be the last, either. Not when my father was one of the most powerful and influential people in Greenwood Vill-


    "Not yet," Faith said, which stopped me dead in my tracks as she shook her head.


    "It''ll be a while," Talia said, patting Faith on the shoulder. "Don''t hold your breath- elves can be really stubborn. Especially this one."


    "...Hang on," I said, frowning. "Is this about that fucking conspiracy theory that I''m secretly a girl? Because if so, both of you can fuck all the way off. I am sick and fucking tired of people acting like ''elven man'' is an oxymoron. I''m six feet tall, broad-shouldered, and have hair on my face and my nutsack. I don''t know what else you people want me to do to prove I''m every bit a man as a human, but I am sick of it."


    "...I see your point," Faith said, turning to address Talia.


    "Look, just- get to the point, already," I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Do you have any leads whatsoever?" I knew the Guilds tended to be pretty dysfunctional, but 1) the Paladin''s Guild was supposedly the least dysfunctional of them all, aside from maybe the Thieves'' Guild, and 2) there was no way in hell they''d given a case like this over to a raw recruit who didn''t even have any Paladin''s Guild training without some reason to think she''d succeed.


    "Someone in the Thieves'' Guild probably did it," Faith said. "No idea who, but they tend to crack down on unapproved robberies, and since they''re not doing anything... well, that means it was probably them."


    I grunted. "Fantastic." So she doesn''t have any solid leads from the Paladin''s Guild.


    "Yeah, I''m not exactly looking forward to it either," Faith said, scowling. "Fucking Thieves'' Guild. They talk a big fuckin'' game about how their role is to humble the mighty, and fight the corruption inherent in the system, while they pretend they aren''t the corruption inherent in the system. They''re nothing but charlatans and thugs and brigands, preying on whoever they can get away with victimizing in order to line their own pockets, and crying ''oppression!'' whenever someone fights back. They''re bullies, and the fact that they get to be a major Guild is one of the biggest problems we face as a society."


    She ended her little spiel by spitting on the ground, folding her arms, and huffing.


    "Well, if we just have to put a few bullies in their place until one of ''em tells us who stole the statue and the reliquary..." Talia said, looking at me with a grin on her face.


    "We''ll resort to that after we try doing it properly," Faith said dryly. "Joseph, I hear you''re a Wizard. Is that true?"


    "Yep," I said, nodding. "Good enough to join the Mage''s Guild, if it wasn''t for the fact I''m an elf with a spine."


    "I''m gonna need you to cast some divinations for me," Faith said, pulling the folder out again. "You got anywhere we can sit down and talk about the details?"


    ---


    "Thank you," Faith said, politely taking a sip from her teacup, before her eyes went wide. "...oh, holy shit, if this is tea, what the hell have I been drinking?"


    "We have a lot of words for human tea," Mom said politely. "Most of them are scatalogical."


    "Urinary, really," Dad said from his armchair, the newspaper in his hands.


    "No, no, shilushka means diarrhea or badly-brewed tea," Talia said.


    "We call human tea ''pee-pee-poo-poo water'' except in a variety of flowery euphemisms," I said, staring straight at Faith. "Let''s set that aside for a moment, Faith: you''re eighteen years old, and a first-grade Page who only joined the Paladins a week ago at the longest."


    "Actually, I got hired a few days before graduation," Faith said. "It''s been almost two weeks."


    "Faith, do you know how long Paladins typically spend in Guild training before being given jobs to handle on their own?" I asked. "Because I know. I know a few people who joined the Paladins, and still come back here to visit family and friends. And they all say-"


    "Four years," Faith said. "A year in boot camp as a Page, to drill the fundamentals. Then three years of low-stakes on-the-job training as a Squire, being directly mentored by a senior Knight as well as receiving intermittent training from other Knights. Only when you become a Knight yourself are you trusted to handle an assignment on your own, and even then, only assignments that the chapter''s Castellan thinks you can handle." Faith set her teacup down. "You wanna know why I''m not in boot camp learning how to actually do my job, Joseph? You wanna know why a first-grade Page was picked to do a job like this?" Faith leaned forward, pale yellow eyes piercing into my soul. "So would I."


    She leaned back in her chair, and drained her teacup like an alcoholic hitting the whiskey.


    "This sounds... messy," Dad said. "Joseph..."


    "You know me," I said. "You know how cautious I usually am. For now... For now, I don''t think you need to trouble yourself with this. It''s summer, anyhow; you''re about to have your hands full." The Ranger''s Guild was one of the least offensive Guilds to High Elven sensibilities; the Rangers were, as a general rule, very respectful towards elves, even if they hadn''t grown up around them, and considered the traditional elven affinity for Primal magic to be something worthy of emulation. As such, while Dad was not a member of the Ranger''s Guild, they very much were willing to pay him very good money to help them run their summer camps, and give him a few free slots to hand out as he so pleased; and as it so happened, plenty of kids growing up in Greenwood Village wanted to go to summer camp and one day join the Ranger''s Guild.


    "Joseph..."


    "For now, Dad," I repeated. This wasn''t some youthful flight of fancy; his hearth-mother''s earthly remains were at stake, here. But... he didn''t have the time to deal with this, right now. And... well. Besides.


    I''m not a kid anymore. I''m a man, now. And it''s time I start acting like it.


    "For now."

 Book 1, Chapter 6

    "This is your ride?" Faith asked, as we entered the garage. Originally, this room had been added onto our house as a home workshop, with a big ol'' door that lifted up and out of the way to move big machines and bulky materials in here. But then Mom lost interest in the still-primitive machine tools of the day, and they just sat here, gathering dust and rust, before finally being stowed in a Bag of Holding- nobody wanted them, due to being too old to be particularly useful without being old enough to be a genuine historical curiosity- so she could put her printing presses in here, and then she gave those away, leaving this room mostly empty for most of my life.


    When I started learning machining, Mom busted those old (as in, three centuries old) machine tools out of storage for me in the hopes that I could use them, until, eventually, following the guidebook my machine shop teacher had given me, we melted them back down to cast iron and brass to make new machine tools that weren''t hand-made by some poor half-rate journeyman with some out-of-square wooden forms and a lot of hand-filing.


    However, she did have a lot of unused metal stock from those days, and, well. She wasn''t using any of it.


    (Yes, I did still steal the brass for Uncle Frederick''s wheelchair bushings from school. Just  because I''m from a family of means doesn''t mean I don''t have an aversion to spending money on things.)


    "Beautiful, isn''t she?" I said, smirking a little as I ran my hand over the polished frame.


    Bicycles had been around for a while- a century or so, depending on how you counted. And while the basic pedals-chain-and-sprockets type were quite abundant, and used by plenty of people who needed to get around town a lot, there were also a lot of enchanted bicycles, which used magic to drive themselves forward, rather than the rider''s own elbow grease- or knee grease, as the case may be.


    The trouble with enchanted bicycles was that they were either expensive as hell, because an enchantment that could propel the bicycle with its rider without external energy input was no small feat, or they were deeply impractical, because they instead used an enchantment that made the rider supply the magicka for motion, which was only possible for riders who were mages, but mages didn''t want those either because they used that magicka! For spellcasting!


    Which brought me to my own enchanted bicycle- which I called a ''motorcycle,'' after Uncle Frederick coined the term. Rather than a static enchantment to make a wheel spin, I''d instead created a piston-and-crank assembly that turned back-and-forth linear motion into smooth rotary motion, and on the piston, placed a modified version of an old dwarven enchantment for blasting hammers. The result was that the motor, as Uncle Frederick termed it, would keep spinning because the piston would throw itself downward with explosive force every time it reached the top of its stroke, and I could harness that motion with some sprockets and chains- although I did still need a power crystal to store magicka. Getting this thing started required a pulse of magicka to get it moving, and because I needed to be able to stop it, too, I needed another enchantment to do that. It wasn''t a fancy power crystal, really. Just a big ol'' chunk of quartz that Mom had made out of a big bag of sand.


    "Did this even start as a bicycle?" Faith asked. "Or did you build it from scratch?"


    That was an entirely reasonable question. The typical bicycle simply wasn''t all that big, and it typically had a raised seat-post to keep the rider sitting upright or even leaning forward on the bike. My bike, though, was bigger, longer, and more substantial- you couldn''t see straight through the frame, because it simply wasn''t hollow the way a bicycle was- all that room was consumed by the motor and all the other vital components.


    And, after some experimentation, I''d lowered the saddle, so I could sit lower to the ground, and lean back a little in the seat. Which necessitated changing the angle of the handlebars, and therefore the front fork... Which all combined to give me a ride that was unquestionably not a regular bicycle. It might have a skeleton of steel tubes like a regular bicycle, but after all the carefully-shaped panels I''d put over it to keep the gears from tearing up my legs...


    If any two-wheeled vehicle deserved the name ''steel horse,'' it was this one.


    "They lowballed me pretty hard with just a Novice Certificate in Machining," I said with a shrug. "Anyhow! Talia, you''ll be fine no matter what, but Faith... Would you rather ride in a sidecar, or be forced to hold onto my hips the whole time?"


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    "I don''t like you that much," Faith said dryly.


    "Side-car it is. Oh, and Talia''s sitting in your lap."


    "I don''t like her that much either, although she is pretty convincing..."


    Talia flexed her magic, and Faith watched in amazement as Talia shifted from an elf into a wolf, yellow eyes glinting in the harsh glare of my home machine shop.


    "How persuasive is she now?" I asked, as I grabbed the sidecar and wheeled it over.


    ---


    Our first stop was Magister Brown''s office, and boy was he not happy to see me.


    "Him! Arrest him, this instant! I just know that thieving little jackrabbit stole my statue!" Magister Brown shouted as I approached.


    The Paladins guarding his office simply looked at me, a well-dressed elf in a long coat, accompanied by another Paladin, and then turned to regard Magister Brown with cold,  unfeeling visors. Sometimes, there was something beautiful about the Paladins and their insistence on wearing full metal body armor at all times.


    "First and foremost, Magister, we''ve been over the question of ownership," I said. "That statue was already stolen property; if there''s any dispute over ownership, it''s between Napoleon and Frederick Ironheart, the surviving heirs of the man who commissioned the statue to begin with, but they live in the same house, so that dispute doesn''t matter. Secondly... Do you think I''m stupid enough to associate with Paladins if I had stolen it?"


    "Additionally," the Banneret (third-grade Knight, leads a squadron of between two and five Squires or lower-rank Knights) on duty began, from behind his helmet, "we do require probable cause in order to arrest people. Your claim that this young elf stole the statue is not enough, especially not when he''s already been deputized by Page Jones, here. I assume you''ve got that wolf under control, by the way?"


    "She''s a shapeshifted druid," I said, reaching down to pat Talia''s head, and scratch behind her ears. "We figured that if we were going to sniff around the crime scene, we should have someone sniff properly."


    The Banneret grunted and nodded. "Smith, go inside with ''em. Don''t make a mess, alright?"


    Another Paladin saluted, then opened the door to usher us inside.


    "Names?" the Paladin- Smith, I suppose- asked.


    "Faith Jones, Page," Faith said, before gesturing at me, then Talia. "Joseph Ironheart, deputized civilian wizard. Talia Jones, deputized civilian druid. No known relation between Faith and Talia, sir."


    "Got it," the Paladin said, jotting all that down on their clipboard. "Please alert me and wait for the go-ahead before casting any spells or moving anything."


    I nodded wordlessly to show I was paying attention, then patted Talia''s shoulder. "Go ahead, girl. Start sniffin''."


    It should be noted that, despite our confidence, Talia and I had absolutely no fucking idea what we were doing. Sure, I''ve read plenty of serialized adventure stories and dime novels, but there, the "investigations" mostly amounted to a handful of abstruse logic puzzles constructed around whatever stupid trivia the author had managed to pick up, which itself only served to break up the monotony of kicking ass and taking names, and then going to find the next guy to beat up and interrogate.


    That felt like the sort of thing that''d only really make sense in contexts where you could, in fact, reasonably expect a guy to know a guy who knows a guy who knows who did the thing. Given that we were reasonably confident the Thieves'' Guild was involved in this, however, we actually were in one of those contexts. The Thieves'' Guild was a hotbed of organized crime, after all, and everyone was involved in someone''s business. So long as we only seemed like we were gonna ruin someone else''s day, I''m sure they''d happily tell us who to bother in exchange for not getting their shit ruined.


    "Have you two done this before?" Faith asked, as Talia put her nose to the floor, sniffing around.


    "Oh, absolutely not," I said. "I was, in fact, just thinking about how I don''t know what I''m doing, and my only knowledge of investigation is from dime novels. Which... Squire Smith, do investigations usually involve beating up a Thieves'' Guild member in a back alley until he tells you the name of his fence?"


    "Torture and intimidation are unreliable sources of information," Squire Smith said, shaking his head. "Our interrogations take a long time, so we can establish a rapport, and convince someone that they do in fact want us to have all the information we need to conclude our investigation. They walk us through it in boot camp, but it''s not a major focus."


    "Huh, how about that," I said, glancing at Faith, who resolutely ignored me.


    "I don''t know what Castellan Tenpenny is thinking," Smith continued, also facing Faith. "But honestly, I do not think she''s doing you a kindness here, Page."


    "I don''t know how useful a hound is going to be, here," Faith said, ignoring the Squire as well. "There''ve been a lot of people coming in and out of this office, and not all of them are here for Talia to rule them out. We''re gonna get a lot of false leads, here, and whatever the true lead is... well, we''re not the only people who''ve had the thought of using dogs to track thieves. Throwing off a hound is a pretty fundamental skill in the Thieves'' Guild."


    Talia reared back on her haunches, before shifting back into an elf, leaving her squatting there on the floor, deliberation written all over her face.


    "See?" Faith said, unable to see Talia''s face from where she was standing. "Talia''s given up, too."


    "The guy who did this," Talia began, "was a half-elf with a sick family member."

 Book 1, Chapter 7

    "...How do you know it''s a sick family member?" Squire Smith asked.


    "I can smell some medicinal herbs mixed in there," Talia said. "But someone who just works in an apothecary is gonna smell like a lot of medicinal herbs; this kinda scent is consistent with someone who needs a few specific herbs to treat an illness. But he didn''t smell sick himself, so it''d be someone he''s taking care of. Probably a family member, but I could be wrong about that bit specifically."


    "Huh," Squire Smith said. "Well, good news. That narrows it down a lot."


    "It narrows it down too much," I said. "I know just about every elf and half-elf who lives in this city, and none of them are fool enough to do this."


    "Except Joseph himself," Talia said.


    "I beg your pardon?" Squire Smith asked.


    "...I had contemplated breaking into Magister Brown''s office to recover the funerary effigy of Terpsichore Ironheart, the blood-mother of my uncle and hearth-mother of my father," I said. "However, I didn''t actually do that, partly because someone else beat me to the punch. Now, correct me if I''m wrong, but thinking about robbing someone is not actually a crime, correct?"


    "No, but I do have to sternly tell you to knock it off," Squire Smith said.


    "Duly noted," I said.


    "I also have to tell you that, legally, the statue does belong to Magister Brown," Squire Smith continued. "I understand where you''re coming from, but legally, it is his property, and you won''t actually be permitted to keep it in the event it''s recovered."


    "Yes, yes, I get it, I get it, laws are made to benefit those already in power, and the powerful don''t think of elves as people with property rights of our own, you can shut up now," I said. "Unless you''ve got a useful insight into this investigation, we''re done here."


    "Not every elf in this city lives in Greenwood Village," Squire Smith said. "There''s more than a few of ''em working in the Ducal Palace, in fact, and some of ''em are bound to have a bastard or two."


    "...I need you to understand that my resentment right now isn''t petty," I said.


    "Yeah, yeah, you and every other loser who thinks he''s entitled to a mansion and a butler."


    "Let''s go talk to some people at the Palace," Faith said, grabbing me by the shoulders and pushing me out the door.


    ---


    "So what made you say you know every elf in this city?" Faith asked.


    "Because I''m Joseph Ironheart," I said. "That may not mean much to you, but among elves, that name carries at lot of weight. Not every elf in this city actually lives in Greenwood Village, but it''s certainly the case that most of them do, and the ones who don''t still make time to visit every so often, because that''s where their families live. Hell, even elves from out of town, with no family in Greenwood Village, come to visit because it''s a really nice place to be if you''re an elf... y''know, compared to the rest of Redwater."


    Even just walking out of the Mage''s Guild building, I''d gotten a few dirty looks from people I''d never met, who''d likely never met me, simply for the shape of my ears. In rougher parts of the city, well...


    ...There''s a reason I didn''t get around that much.


    "And the reason Greenwood Village is such a nice place to live, even for the humans who live there, is Napoleon Ironheart," I continued. "He was an Elven Mage-Knight, like his father before him, and even fought in the War Of The Roses, until his unicorn, Elken, lost all hope and threw Napoleon into a snowbank, telling him the war was already lost, and to plant a new life for himself in the ashes. So, Napoleon moved into a slum, and started using his druidic magic to make things better for people. He healed the sick, fed the hungry, helped mothers deliver their babies, and cared for the old. As word spread, elves flocked to him, adding their own talents to his efforts, and now? Greenwood Village is a really nice place to live. Nicest place in Redwater that isn''t the Noble Quarter."


    "I see," Faith murmured.


    "At least, that''s the story I was told," I said. "The notion that there''s an elf community in this city that is disconnected from Greenwood Village and Napoleon Ironheart is, therefore, something of a surprise to me. Because this is the first I''m hearing about elves working in the Ducal Palace."


    "Which is a little weird," Talia added, "because if this was common knowledge, then we should, y''know, know it. If only from someone using it as material to bully us with."


    "Anyhow," I said. "There''s probably a reason none of us know what''s going on in the Ducal Palace: for all that my dad''s a big man in his community, none of us are part of this city''s elite, and therefore don''t get into the Ducal Palace. Which is going to be a problem, because now we do need to go there, snoop around, and ask some questions. Which... is probably going to be tricky."


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    ---


    Thankfully, it was not actually that tricky. We got near the Ducal Palace, but not quite within line-of-sight of it, and were suddenly stopped by an elf man I''d never met before, wearing a well-tailored tuxedo and a pair of white gloves.


    "I''m afraid you don''t seem to have an appointment with the Duke," the butler said, one arm folded over his stomach, the other behind his back. "If you could please state your name, the cause for your audience, and your address, I''m certain His Grace can fit you into the schedule sometime soon."


    "My name is Faith Jones, Page of the Paladin''s Guild," Faith said, carefully climbing out of the sidecar to stand up. "My deputies and I are investigating a burglary at the Mage''s Guild, and we need to speak to the staff more than the Duke himself."


    "...I see," the butler said, his ears twitching just the tiniest bit. A human likely wouldn''t notice it, but to an elf? This guy was annoyed, now. Did the Paladins have a habit of harassing elves every time something got stolen? Because if they did, then they certainly knew better than to try that on Napoleon Ironheart''s turf; he might not have a unicorn anymore, but you still don''t wanna mess with a guy who can turn into a pseudodragon and throw lightning bolts if he thinks you''re harassing his people. "I''m afraid the staff are no longer available for interview by the Paladin''s Guild, per His Grace''s orders. However, as it so happens, Her Grace, Duchess Melody, has an opening in her schedule, and would be quite willing to settle any concerns you may have. If you''ll follow me, a valet will be along shortly to stable your... ah, pardon, I''ve never quite seen something like that. To what name does it answer?"


    "My uncle called it a motorcycle, and I haven''t yet found a reason to contradict him," I said, dismounting the bike. "At any rate, there will be no need for a valet." I pulled a canvas tarp from within my coat, and threw it over the now-unoccupied bike (Talia had been sitting in Faith''s lap as a wolf again, and had been forced to get out so Faith could), which seemingly disappeared.


    The Bag of Holding enchantment was such a useful one, and I am very grateful that my mother made a point to teach it to me early on in my studies.


    "After you, sir," I said, bundling up the canvas and tucking it back inside my coat.


    ---


    Duchess Melody Redwater was an obnoxiously gorgeous woman. Her skin was dark brown, with golden undertones and a light sheen to it that looked amazing on her cheeks, her nose, and other... rounded patches of skin. Her hair, rather than the deep black often found among people like her, was instead a curiously bright red, reminding me of nothing so much as a fox''s summer coat, albeit a fair bit curlier. Her dress was undoubtedly more expensive than anything I owned (and I was definitely a person of means, all things considered), and yet it somehow conveyed the impression of "This is what constitutes casual clothing for me, when I''m entertaining a small audience of guests who aren''t even my wealthy peers who I need to impress."


    One of the things that conveyed that impression was that her dress had exposed corsetry, despite the fact that a corset is typically considered an undergarment. It was almost like visiting a normal person who wasn''t expecting company, and they''re just wearing a bra and a bathrobe. Except in this case, it was almost certainly done on purpose, and it was definitely on purpose that she leaned back in a very comfortable-looking leather armchair and fanned herself gently, while an elven maid poured us all cups of tea.


    "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, sirs?" Duchess Melody asked, once the maid stepped back to the edge of the room, a serenely blank look on her face. Despite my temptation to focus on the elf as the real person in the room, it was in fact a practical reality of the situation that I could not in fact safely ignore the busty tart who owns a hat made of gold and wears it in public. For one thing, she''d all but confirmed my theory that the Paladins did shake down the elves with alarming frequency, to the point that even the wealthy and powerful humans were sick of dealing with it.


    "If I may?" I said, eyeing Faith before she could say anything. "We''re currently looking for a half-elf man with a sick family member. Are you familiar with the name Napoleon Ironheart?"


    "So you''re Joseph," Duchess Melody said, tilting her head as she considered me carefully. It wasn''t quite "looking at me like a piece of meat," but I very much could tell that she was wondering how to incorporate me into her family''s power base. "Well, Mr. Ironheart-" she snapped her fan closed, and tucked it into her cleavage, managing to fit the entire fan inside without any particular effort; whether that was a deliberate attempt at flirtation or simply a thing she did naturally since it was an option to her, I had no idea. "-as it so happens, while I wouldn''t ordinarily disclose this information... A year ago, my personal maid, Amelie Rosepetals, came down with a mysterious illness that our Healers could not cure. She was unable to work, but considering the centuries of exemplary service she has performed for our House, we gave her a generous stipend, and relieved her of her duties until such time as she has recovered." Duchess Melody sighed. "And, yes, she does have a son- a half-elf by the name of Robert Thorn."


    "Why doesn''t he have the same last name as his mother?" Talia asked.


    Duchess Melody clenched her jaw for the briefest of moments- clearly, she thought it was obvious, but was realizing that we weren''t steeped in the intricacies of nobility.


    "''Thorn'' is the traditional surname given to a... child born out of wedlock," Duchess Melody said. "Now, as it so happens, we do know where Amelie and Robert live. But. Before I can disclose that to you, Mr. Ironheart... I require an assurance."


    "That being?" I asked.


    She finally straightened up in her seat, before leaning forward, dark brown eyes staring into my very soul.


    "Amelie is mine," Melody said quietly. "Whatever price you charge her for your father''s healing, it will not interfere with her returning to my service. Do I make myself clear?"


    I picked up my teacup and took a calm sip, all without looking away. Fun fact about elves, our eyes don''t dry out nearly so fast as human eyes do; you do not want to start a staring contest with an elf.


    "It''s her decision to make," I said. "Not mine. And not yours. And that''s the best you''re getting from me." Unless she decides to barter for elf-grown tea leaves; this tea was pretty good, and had clearly been brewed by someone who was really good at it, but there was room for improvement.


    "...It will suffice. Claudia, fetch the address book, a pad, and a pen."


    "Right away, Your Grace," Claudia said, setting the teapot down and walking out.

 Book 1, Chapter 8

    I knocked on the door, and sighed quietly. Robert and Amelie lived in an absolute slum. Like Greenwood Village used to be, except this part of town didn''t have a powerful druid to overturn the cold calculus of money and power in favor of respecting the basic dignity of all people.


    The door opened just a crack, and standing there in the gap was a man I could only assume was Robert Thorn. Looking at him, I''d never guess that he was a half-elf; his skin was a medium-brown, his hair jet black and tightly curled, and his features not quite so sharp and pointed as a half-elf''s tended to be. He was also a bit on the short side, but that was likely more to growing up poor rather than anything genetic; I had a suspicion I knew his human father, and that guy wasn''t short either.


    "...You from the Palace or somethin''?" Robert asked.


    "Kinda," I said. "Duchess Melody sent me. I don''t really work there, though. Can we come in?"


    His eye darted from me, to Talia, and then to Faith, who had- taken off the duster I''d told her to wear so that this guy did not immediately clock her as a Paladin god fucking dammit Faith!


    "You got a warrant?" he asked, his voice deceptively mild.


    "I''ve got a healer for your mom," I said, gesturing at Talia, who waved. "At the low, low price of answering two simple questions for me."


    Muscles tensed in his face, as he considered the question very, very carefully.


    "...Fine," he said, as the door opened. "Watch your step, I wasn''t expecting company."


    The apartment was tiny, and cluttered, all just one room for him to eat, sleep, and live in, with only a tiny bathroom for him to shit in. I wouldn''t be surprised if he didn''t even have a proper bathtub or shower in here, and had to wash himself with a rag.


    All over the floor was all sorts of miscellaneous shit- mostly paper and cardboard wrappers, and a few empty bottles. No dirty clothes on the floor, though- the only clothes this guy had were the ones he was wearing and the ones he''d washed and hung up to dry- indoors, since he couldn''t risk anyone stealing his laundry. And the less said about the smell, the better.


    In the corner of the cramped room was a mattress on the floor, where a gaunt elf woman was lying, motionless but for her slow breathing. Her skin had taken on a yellow tint- even I knew that meant her liver was bad- and her cheeks had gone hollow.


    "Shit, that''s bad," I muttered. "Talia, can you-?"


    "I''ll do what I can, but... we might need to get your dad for this," Talia said.


    "Dammit," I muttered. "Okay. Robert, we''ll do what we can, but depending on what''s wrong, we might have to move your mom to Greenwood Village for healing."


    "You''re not taking her anywhere," Robert said, folding his arms. "If you need a better healer, they can come here."


    "...I''ll see what I can do," I said quietly. "Sorry. This is..." I turned back to look at what remained of Amelie Rosepetal, and grimaced. "...Suddenly my questions don''t seem so important."


    "...The hell are you on about?"


    "She''s clearly dying," I said.


    "And what''s it to you?" Robert asked, scowling. "Huh? You think I''m some kinda low-down snake who''s gonna screw you if I don''t get exactly what I want? I''m no saint, but I know how to play ball. So what''re your questions?"


    I blinked a few times. What the hell was this guy''s deal? I- y''know what, no, it doesn''t matter. I''ll make sure his mom makes it through this, but what Robert thinks about this is irrelevant.


    "Liver cancer," Talia announced. "You''ve been treating it pretty well, all things considered, but she''s gonna need actual surgery for this."


    "Shit," Robert muttered. "Damn fixer didn''t give me enough to cover surgery..." Then he realized Faith and I were still here, and his eyes went wide.


    "Were you involved in stealing a statue from Magister Brown''s office?" I asked.


    "...What''s it to you?" he said, folding his arms.


    "Oh, I don''t give a rat''s ass about putting people in jail or anything," I said. "As a matter of fact, if you did rob that fucker, I''d shake your hand and give you five dollars. What I want is that statue, and I''m pretty sure it''s not here. So, Robert. Were you involved in stealing that statue?"


    "...Yeah. I was."


    "Do you know where it is now?"


    "...I don''t," he admitted. "Sorry, but... Look, my mom is dying, and I can''t afford the medicine it takes to keep her from vomiting up everything she eats, and... and the Thieves'' Guild came to me. Said I had potential. Said I just had to do one little job for ''em, and they''d make me a member and pay me good money for it. So I got a job mopping floors in the Mage''s Guild under a fake name, and one night, when I was the only one on my floor, I let myself into Magister Brown''s office and used the Bag of Holding they gave me to steal the statue and the glass tube with the clay figure in it- I think they called it a relic or something."


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    "Reliquary," I said. "There''s a history lesson in there, but let''s be honest: you don''t give a shit. So you handed off that Bag of Holding to your fixer, and he promised he''d make you a member of the Thieves'' Guild, right?"


    "And he paid me," Robert said, pulling out a cloth pouch that jingled as it moved. "Wouldn''t''ve done the job if there wasn''t pay in it; told him I needed money, not work."


    "So who''s your fixer?" Faith asked, folding her arms.


    "He told me that all I needed to know is his name was Mr. Smith," Robert said. "It''s a fake name- the fake name, for those guys."


    "Okay, well... where''d you meet him?" Faith asked.


    "The Goblin''s Trumpet," Robert said. "It''s a bar nearby."


    "...Goddammit, not now!" Faith groaned. "I cannot have this trail go cold now of all times!"


    "That bag in your hands," I said, pointing at Robert''s coinpurse. "Did he give it to you, personally?"


    "Yeah," Robert said, already tucking it back away. "Why?"


    "So it was something that was on his person, for at least one important event," I said, as I took my duster back from Faith.


    "Listen here, I need this money-"


    "And you can keep the money," I said. "I need something your fixer owned. Money isn''t great for that- it''s always changing hands, and one dollar coin is the same as any other. But the bag?" I smirked. "Well, I doubt that''s passed through a thousand hands over the course of its life." I pulled out a small canvas bag- well, it wasn''t that small, it was in fact big enough to fit your head inside, but, whatever. "How''s about a trade?"


    "...Alright," Robert said, snatching the sack from my hands and dumping his coins inside, before tossing the empty purse at me. "Here."


    "Thank you kindly, sir," I said, carefully tucking the purse away in my pocket. "Oh, and, I did say I''d do this, so..." I pulled out five dollar coins, and dropped them inside his sack, before grabbing one of his hands and shaking it firmly. "You wouldn''t be looking for work, would you?"


    "...Yeah? What''ve you got for me?" Robert asked.


    "Get yourself down to Greenwood Village, to the Greenwood Publishing House," I said. "They always need errand boys to deliver stuff to shops, and pick up ink and paper from their suppliers. They''ll pay you good money."


    "I don''t live in Greenwood Village," Robert said.


    "They''ll fix that," I said dryly. "They''ll pay you real good money."


    Now, admittedly, I was so confident that the Greenwood Publishing House would employ Robert and give him someplace to live because he was a half-elf, and elves look after each other- if I''d tried to do this for a human, there wasn''t nearly as much chance of this working. I mean, it also probably wouldn''t work for a dwarf, but dwarves had their own "look out for each other" arrangement, and thus likely wouldn''t need it.


    "...I don''t know what to say. Thank you, I- I can''t thank you enough-"


    "You don''t need to," I said, patting him on the shoulder. "You''ve given me a lead on my grandmother''s statue; it''s worth this much to me and more."


    I turned to look at Talia, who was doing what little healing she could to ease Amelie''s pain.


    "Lemme know when you''re done, Talia, and we''ll get out of here and go get my dad."


    "Got it."


    ---


    "Fancy," Faith remarked, as I drew out the spell circle on the floor of the garage in chalk.


    "I don''t know this spell too well, and it''s big enough that I can''t hold it all in my head at once," I said. "Lucky for me, that''s something humans have to deal with all the time, and they developed ways around it."


    I set the coin purse in the center of the circle, and stepped back, closing my eyes and clearing my mind.


    "Everyone shut up," I said, before starting to work my magic.


    I was really glad I was a dabbling Occultist right about now, because if I wasn''t, I''d have to do this with Arcane magic, and... well, it''d be a lot harder. "Give up and ask Mom to do it for me, and possibly even be told no because it''d use a lot of effort and magicka even for her" levels of ''harder.''


    This spell was, ultimately, pretty simple from an Occult point of view: it determines who the object''s owner is, and with a bit more effort, can figure out its past owners, too.


    With a grunt, the last piece of the spell''s formula locked into place in my mind''s eye, and suddenly magicka flowed out of me like water from an overturned cup. I opened my eyes to see images appearing over the coin purse.


    The current owner was me, and so we all saw a picture of a tall, broad-shouldered elf man with a black leather duster and long flame-red hair. The previous owner was Robert Thorn, and we saw a much more humble-looking half-elf man with short-cropped black hair and a shirt that hadn''t been washed recently.


    But it was the owner before him who we were interested in, and it was his face that came up next.


    "Oh, you have got to be shitting me," Talia said.


    "You know this guy?" Faith asked.


    "John Courser," I said, staring at the face of the loser who''d bullied me in school. "We''re acquainted."

 Book 1, Chapter 9

    "We don''t need these to go talk to John," I said, handing Faith the copper deputy''s badge she''d given me at the start of our investigation. "We''ll just go to his house, talk things over, and get back to you with our findings."


    "You''re going to tie him to a chair and break his legs," Faith said dryly.


    "...What makes you say that?" I asked.


    "I have eyes," Faith said. "You and Talia hate this guy, and you''ve just found reason to believe he fucked you over."


    "Okay, maybe I do hate him," I said. "Why do you think I''m gonna break his legs? When have I ever given you a reason to believe I''ve ever so much as laid a finger on my fellow man?"


    "You''re a fighter," Faith said. "I can tell just from the way you walk. Your dad walks that way too. Talia''s dad, though, doesn''t- he''s just a normal guy, and carries himself that way too."


    "...You''ve got a keen eye," I muttered. "Wait, when did you meet Talia''s dad?"


    "I wanted to buy some more of that elven tea, after I had some at your place, and he brought me behind the counter to show me how to brew it right. I''m... still learning, though."


    "I can give you some pointers. It''s not the work of centuries, I promise."


    "Anyhow, no, I''m going with you two, and we are not going to break John''s legs while we question him."


    "...What about his arms?" I asked.


    "Also no," Faith said.


    "Fingers, and that''s our final offer," Talia said.


    "You cannot break any of John''s bones, or I will arrest you," Faith said, throwing up her hands in exasperation. "Okay, if he attacks you first, then fine, you can defend yourself, but we are not going to abuse our power by beating him senseless just because you don''t like him!"


    "...Fine," I said, folding my arms. Spoilsport. "At any rate, considering the last time I saw John, he took a few swings at me, I''m not exactly willing to see him without being full up on magicka, and I just drained myself pretty dry casting that spell for you. Also, I do have to take my Dad over to Robert''s place, so he can heal Amelie."


    "Fair enough," Faith said. "But, since you were so eager to go after him and break his bones, I am going to insist on being here to watch you tonight."


    "Yeah, sure, whatever, I''m sure we can accommodate a guest for the night," I said, rolling my eyes. "C''mon, let''s go tell my parents about it."


    I opened the door from the garage back into the rest of the house, and listened for the sounds of my parents'' presence, and found that they were both in the kitchen, probably working on tonight''s dinner.


    "Hey, Faith has insisted on staying here to make sure I don''t go enact vigilante justice on the guy who bullied me in high school," I said, leading the group into the kitchen, where Mom was chopping vegetables for a classic pot of Whatever Soup, and Dad was watching whatever was currently in the pot- probably a pigeon or two; Greenwood Village had a number of robust dovecotes for exactly this sort of thing. "That alright with you guys?"


    "Sure, why not?" Dad said. "Although... Joseph, can I talk to you in private for a moment?"


    "Sure," I said, shrugging and following Dad as he led me out of the kitchen, through the dining room, and up the stairs. "What''s up?"


    "I think it''s time I enchanted your weapon of choice," Dad said quietly. "You''re a man now, and... well. You''ve dedicated yourself to the path of the Mage-Knight. I can tell. So... it''s time to enchant your weapon, so you can really walk the path."


    "I... thank you," I said. "But... I''m not ready. I''m not even strong enough to beat a human in a fistfight, let alone wield a sword."


    "Horseshit," Dad said, firmly. "A Mage-Knight is not a swordsman, Joseph. Yes, we have swords, and are good at using them, but they are not our primary weapon. You hear the stories about how Artorias Wind-Caller got into such dire straits that he had to use his sword to survive. What you don''t hear are the stories where Artorias Wind-Caller gets to have his way and pick off his foes from a distance with his enchanted bow, or the stories where I destroyed the entire 13th Legion on the march with my bow, instilling the Paladins with such fear that they retired the number 13 for their legions and made them start accepting women into their ranks, for fear they''d otherwise run out of young men to field."


    "Wait, that was you?" I asked, eyes going wide.


    "The Paladins don''t come near me for a reason," Dad said with a cruel smirk. "Now. I know you have a few ranged weapons of your own- I''ve taken you out into the woods to practice with them more than enough times to figure that out. What I need is for you to pick a favorite one, one that you think is versatile enough to be worth treating as your main weapon... and then, I need you to give that over to me so that I can get to work on enchanting it with everything a Mage-Knight''s weapon should have."


    "...Alright," I said, nodding slowly. I reached inside my duster, pulled out the weapon in question, and handed it over to him. "The safety catch is on; you know where the toggle button is."


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    "I do," Dad said, nodding as he accepted the weapon from me. "Alright. I''m gonna get started on this now, so it''ll be ready by the time you need it. Good luck."


    "I''ll need it."


    I walked back downstairs, returning to the kitchen, to find Talia and Faith being put to work in clanking up vegetables for the soup.


    "Oh, I need to talk to you in private as well," Talia said, standing up and hustling over. "C''mon, back to the garage."


    "Alright," I said as she led me out to the garage.


    "I don''t have to stay here tonight," Talia said as the door closed behind us. "I can just go home, take a nap, and then go hunt John down tonight. I''ve got enough juice to do that, no problem."


    "We know John''s in bed with the Thieves'' Guild," I said, shaking my head. "Just because he''s a clown doesn''t mean everyone in the Thieves'' Guild is, too- those fuckers are good at fighting dirty, and just because you''re a good druid doesn''t change that fact. Don''t go after them on your own, it''s not worth it. We all need someone watching our backs."


    "So, what, you''re gonna let the paladin ride herd on us and prioritize John''s life over ours?" Talia asked, folding her arms. "What, you suddenly decide you''ve got a thing for redheads?"


    "Your tits are still bigger by a big margin," I said dryly. "Besides, I know Faith did just give us shit about it, but... well. She hasn''t met John yet. I assure you, the fact she cares about his bodily integrity is a very solvable problem, and we won''t have to lift a finger." I tapped my chin, frowning. "Also, I''m pretty sure Faith is only into other girls."


    "...I think she''ll make an exception for you, in particular," Talia said, to which I could only roll my eyes. "Hey, listen, sexuality is complicated, alright? Just... something to keep in mind."


    "I don''t really care," I said. "I already have a girlfriend, and while, yes, I am aware that it wouldn''t exactly be scandalous for me to have a second one, I don''t want a second one right now."


    "Well if you''re not gonna fuck her, can I?" Talia asked.


    "...Sure, have fun," I said, rolling my eyes. "Whatever. We done here?"


    "I think so, yeah."


    I opened the door, walking back to the kitchen.


    "I''ve also got something-" Faith began.


    "Do you really?" I asked, staring straight through her eyes and into her soul.


    "Honestly, no, I was just feeling left out," Faith admitted.


    "Yeah, that''s what I thought."


    ---


    "There''s something wrong with you," I said.


    "Look, I am taking no chances with the two of you sneaking out to catch John without me," Faith said, folding her arms over her chest. She wasn''t wearing her uniform anymore, having stripped down to a sleeveless undershirt and a pair of shorts, revealing that, indeed, her arms and legs were thickly-muscled, and also, she had freckles on her shoulders.


    "So you''re going to insist on sleeping in my bed," I continued. "A bed I will also be sharing, I should note, with my girlfriend."


    "Hey, plenty of humans fantasize about joining an elven couple in their bed," Talia pointed out. "I mean, usually they fantasize about older elves, but still!"


    "Joseph, you still hold out hope of becoming a proper, unicorn-mounted Mage-Knight, don''t you?" Faith asked.


    "...Yeah," I said, slowly. "How did you..."


    "Then I''m not worried about the two of you getting up to anything while I''m here," Faith said, before throwing one arm over my shoulders and the other over Talia''s, and dragging us towards my bed. "Now, let''s get ourselves tucked in, shall we?"


    ---


    The next morning, I woke up to the sensation of someone beside me, and blearily thought, "Oh, it''s Talia. Good morning, Talia," before rolling onto my side and kissing her. She did her usual thing, of latching onto me and refusing to let me go, and I just rolled with it, letting her keep the kiss going until she decided she was done.


    "Huh, and I though you didn''t wanna kiss the paladin," Talia said, waking me all the way up as I pulled myself out of Faith''s iron grip.


    "...Okay, I know what I thought I was doing," I said, breathing heavily. "But what the hell did you think you were doing?"


    "I thought you were Talia," Faith admitted.


    "...Okay, fair enough," I admitted. "But did the lack of boobs not clue you in, there?"


    "I just woke up."


    "Right." I sat myself upright, yawning and stretching. "Well, it''s morning now, and we''d better get up. We''re not going to recover my grandmother''s funerary effigy by lying in bed all day."


    "Not until I get my good morning kiss," Talia said.


    "I''m closer-" Faith began.


    "I assure you, it is no trouble," I said, conspicuously leaning over Faith to kiss my actual girlfriend for far, far too long.


    Couldn''t have the Paladin thinking I liked her, now could I?

 Book 1 Chapter 10

    "Now just what the hell has that little shit gone and gotten himself into this time?" Matthew Courser, John''s father, said. We''d caught him on the way out the door; he had work, and we knew better than to keep him for long. "No, he''s not here- been out all night with his new friends, a buncha no-good lowlifes if you ask me. That he''d join the Thieves'' Guild, though... When I get my hands on that boy, I''m gonna-"


    "Easy, sir," I said. "We''ll teach him the error of his ways, I promise. You mind if we go inside, take a look through his room?"


    "Yeah, of course, go ahead," Matthew said, nodding. "Now if you''ll excuse me, I''ve got work to do."


    Matthew Courser was a factory worker- a laborer who did get paid a decent enough wage, but whose skillset was pretty limited, thanks to being trained to perform exactly one task on an assembly line, and having no practical experience in doing any other part of the process of building a bicycle. It was a dead-end job, without any real path of advancement; if he wanted a better job, he''d have to go to a night school to spend his time after work learning a whole new skillset, and be left with no time to rest, relax, and actually recover from a long shift in the factory.


    He was, also, an absolute asshole. Boys tend to grow up like their fathers, and that''s fine when their dad is Napoleon Ironheart, Pillar Of The Community, but when their dad is an impulsive, violent moron like Matthew Courser... well. Maybe it wasn''t completely John''s fault he sucked so bad.


    I mean, it was still a little bit his fault, he was still a person with agency who was old enough and exposed enough to other people that he should know better by now, but still. I understood why John was an awful person.


    "Alright," Faith muttered, once Matthew was gone, and we could walk inside. "Talia, you gonna go wolf again?"


    "Not unless I need to," Talia said, shaking her head. "John''s an idiot, so he probably left something incriminating behind."


    I opened the door to John''s bedroom, to find it looking already-ransacked and quite barren, as though he''d packed all his shit and left.


    "...I''ve been wrong before, though," Talia said, as she turned into a wolf.


    ---


    "Okay, so, whoever came and got John, they had a car," Talia said, turning back into an elf. "Now, I''m not sure if you''re aware, but boxes of metal on wheels are not especially fragrant things, and I can''t really track those."


    "Fuck," Faith said, scowling. "Is that it? Do we have nothing else we can do?"


    "Of course not," I said. "We''ve got magic, hon. And we''ve also got a few of John''s belongings he left behind."


    Not many of them, admittedly- a few old socks that had been left behind, plus a comic book that''d fallen behind the dresser. It was the first piece of evidence I''d ever witnessed that suggested John could read, but it was hardly conclusive- comic books did have a lot of pictures in them, after all.


    "And as it just so happens," I continued, reaching into my pocket, "I came prepared."


    I pulled out a compass- the north-finding sort, not the circle-drawing sort- and the comic book I''d taken. Some Boy''s Adventure drivel, starring a plucky thief who went against the law and the Thieves'' Guild to forge his own path of nobly taking whatever he wants from whoever isn''t strong and attentive enough to effectively resist him. That was probably how John saw himself, all things being equal, but honestly, I didn''t really care. My sympathy for this asshole was pretty strictly limited.


    "...Is that compass magical or something?" Faith asked.


    "It is, yeah," I said, nodding. Admittedly, it looked pretty magical- it was a flat pointer sitting on a pivot in the center of a three-ring gimbal, whose outer ring was suspended from two points by a fine copper chain. It was very much not a typical compass, and had clearly been made by a machinist with time to kill. So, y''know. Me. "I''ve had this thing ready and charged for a while, so all I gotta do is key it to the book."


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    "What did you make a half-enchanted compass for, originally?" Faith asked.


    "Because Mom thought it''d be a good exercise for me," I said, shrugging. "I honestly had no idea what I''d end up using this thing for, when I first made it."


    "And your mother is a wizard?"


    "She''s that Ariel Silver."


    It was actually a little funny; since Ariel was the archetypally common name for elf women (among elf men, the archetypally common name was Artorias), and Silver was a surname that was taken by anyone who disowned their family for whatever reason, there were a lot of Ariel Silvers running around the former Rosewood Kingdom, some of whom were mad that they kept getting confused for that Ariel Silver, the very-old-even-for-an-elf archmage who the other Ariels Silver were not.


    "...Ah," Faith said. "Well. That makes your skill as a wizard a bit less impressive, if you had a woman like that as your mentor."


    "Hey now, I would not be this good at wizardry if I didn''t have the right personality for it," I protested. "My dad''s every bit the archmage that Mom is, except with primal magic rather than arcane, and I have never once been able to call upon the powers of the Living Earth."


    "I can!" Talia said.


    "Yes, Talia, I''m aware you''re a druid," I said dryly. "You don''t have to rub it in. My point is that the student matters just as much, if not more, than the teacher. Both are important, obviously, otherwise education would be pointless, but still. I''m not a talented wizard just because of who my mom is."


    "I mean, personalities tend to be kinda hereditary," Faith pointed out. "You are your mother''s daughter, after all. I mean, son. Son."


    I rolled my eyes, and focused on the compass. It only took a few moments to link its latent charms to the comic book, and soon, the needle started pointing a different direction, hopefully towards one John Courser.


    "So," I said, gently swinging the compass from my fist. "Let''s see where this leads us, yeah?"


    "Hang on, do you still have a real, north-pointing compass in there?" Faith asked. "Oh, and a map of the city?"


    "Yeah? Why?"


    "I''ve got an idea."


    ---


    Faith''s idea had proven pretty clever. Despite only knowing which heading John was from us, by taking multiple readings from different parts of the city and plotting some lines on a map, we''d been able to pinpoint his location with surprising accuracy, tracing him to a cluster of warehouses in what was, funnily enough, often called the Warehouse District.


    Once we had that information to work with, we could make a more detailed plan to catch that rat bastard and get what we needed from him. We''d need even more information for a real plan, but, well.


    Who''d be suspicious of a crow flying overhead, hm?


    Talia flew back to our little corner where we waited with my bike, and turned back into an elf, rattling off details about windows, possible lookouts, how many people she thought were inside, and how many people there were in nearby warehouses. Most important, though, were the entrances.


    "Knock knock," I said, after blowing the door off its hinges with a force bolt. Once upon a time, the spell had been called ''magic missile,'' for the old version''s resemblance to a thrown javelin, but ever since, the spell had been refined, and new spells that incorporated magical elements beyond mere kinetic force emerged, thus necessitating a renaming of what was, in modern times, a different sort of spell. "John Courser?"


    "You son of a bitch!" I heard someone yell from within the warehouse.


    "Shut up!" someone else said, trying to be quiet, before thumping John with something hard.


    A thief stepped out of the shadows, a knife in her hand as she cleaned under her fingernails with it.


    "We might know a guy who answers to that," the thief said calmly. "What''s it to you, coppers?"


    "John Courser is wanted for questioning regarding the burglary of Magister Brown''s office," Faith said firmly. "We don''t care about anyone else here, unless they had anything to do with that."


    "A compelling offer," the thief said, nodding solemnly. "However... Rock Salt?"


    "Orders from the top, sorry," a thief who was presumably named Rock Salt said, up in the catwalks above the warehouse floor. "John''s ours, and we can''t let him go for questioning."


    "Well, you heard the man," the first thief said. "No can do, coppers. Unless you think you can take all of us?"


    "Or if that elf with you happens to be Joseph Ironheart," Rock Salt added.


    "What''s that matter?" I asked mildly.


    "The boss wants to talk to you, Mr. Ironheart," Rock Salt said. "Now, Sandpaper, if you wouldn''t mind breaking Mr. Ironheart''s legs so we can arrange that chat?"


    Before Sandpaper- the thief who''d greeted us at the door- could do anything, I powered my ring back up, and put a force bolt through her kneecaps, sending her crumpling to the floor like wet paper that had been cursed with the ability to scream bloody murder.


    "...Nobody told me you were a wizard," Rock Salt said mildly. "Well, shit."

 Book 1 Chapter 11

    There were, unfortunately, more than two thieves in the warehouse, and so me breaking Sandpaper''s legs wasn''t enough to put an end to the fight. If I''d been fighting alone, that might actually be a problem for me. As it stood...


    "Hano, now," Faith whispered, before a suit of full Paladin plate shimmered into existence over her body, made of translucent golden light, while a sword and shield of far more opaque golden light formed in her hands.


    It wasn''t a surprise to me that Paladins could wield divine magic; they were one of the Grand Hikaano Guilds, sponsored by Hano, the God of Paladins, and that meant at least some of them had some holy magic at their disposal. Hell, considering what the Paladins were like, I wouldn''t even be surprised that all fully-fledged Paladins were clerical spellcasters of some sort.


    But that Faith, who had joined the Paladin''s Guild a month ago, was already a cleric of Hano?


    Yeah, that was just the tiniest bit surprising, to me.


    "Talia?" I asked.


    The roar of a brown bear was all that I received in return, as Talia had apparently decided that the best use of her magical abilities wasn''t to, say, conjure vines to restrain her foes, or conjure flowers with an enchanted smell that would charm them to sleep, but to turn into a fucking bear and maul them.


    Which, in fairness, probably was her most effective option. We weren''t really in an environment that was conducive to primal magic, considering we were inside a stone-and-steel building in the middle of a city. If we were in a forest, though, these guys would''ve been fucked.


    I sighed, and kept my head on a swivel for any thieves who decided to use ranged attacks, like- aha, that one in the catwalks with the crossbow. I cast a simple cutting spell, snapping the bowstring right where it looped over the end of the bow, prompting it to whip back into the thief''s face for the briefest moment as it released all that tension in the worst possible way.


    I looked around for another crossbow-wielder, and only managed to duck out of the way just in time to avoid catching one of Sandpaper''s throwing knives to the face.


    "Yyyooouuu... motherfucker!" Sandpaper ground out, pulling another throwing knife.


    "I don''t care," I said dryly, before slamming her with another force bolt, which seemed to finally break her enough that she gave up the fight. Still breathing, but... well. I doubted she''d be in any shape to throw another knife at me.


    I turned and watched, as Faith ducked under one thief''s swing with a club and ended up between two thieves. And yet, rather than getting flanked and taken down by people who knew how to fight dirty, what instead happened is she took both thieves down with a simple yet well-executed strike from both her sword and her shield- neither of which seemed to actually cut into live tissue or even break skin, but did leave glowing, smoking marks on their victims.


    Talia, meanwhile, was absolutely tearing through these people, claws and teeth gleaming in the dim light as she spilled blood every which way. The thieves learned quickly that they did not in fact want to fight a bear to the death, and ended up running away- some of them towards me, where they got put down with force bolts to the face, some of them towards Faith, where they got put down with a holy sword to the face, and one of them, most sensibly, through an open window.


    "You son of a bitch," John Courser growled as he landed on the warehouse floor, far enough away from Faith and Talia that I couldn''t count on them taking him down for me. "Everywhere I go, you show up to ruin it for me."


    "I don''t care," I said. "Shut up and fight me, pissweasel."


    He snorted like a bull, and charged at me, fist cocked back... and received a swift kick across the ankles for his trouble, as I decided that, actually, I was gonna fight this motherfucker barehanded. I knew how to fight, and while I might not be as strong as he was... well. Elves have had ways of working around that for a very long time.


    I grabbed his shoulder as he fell, and threw him into the ground, before following that up with an elbow drop to the stomach, driving the wind out of his stomach, and ended it with a knife held against his throat.


    "So, John," I said calmly, well aware it''d just take a flick of the wrist to open his jugular and start bleeding him dry. "You know anything about the burglary of Magister Brown''s office?"


    "Fuck you," John spat, eyes narrowing into a squinting glare.


    "Because I''ve got good reason to believe you paid one Robert Thorn to break in and steal the statue," I said, one of my knees now pressing pretty firmly against his sternum. "You handed him a bag of coins, he handed you a bag of statue... Where''d that statue go, John?"


    "I ain''t tellin'' you shit, knife-ear," John said.


    "Knife ear?" I asked. "Well, if you insist." I lifted my knife, before I plunged it downwards, carving through the cartilage and flesh of John''s left ear, until the useless chunk of flesh came away in my hands. "Now, I know your other ear works just fine," I continued. "So I know you can hear me say I need an answer." I paused. "Y''know. When you''re done screaming."


    "This isn''t exactly standard operating procedure for Paladins," Faith pointed out.


    "Yeah, well, we''re not Paladins," Talia said with a shrug, having turned back into an elf after she ran out of thieves to maul. "Also, we know John. He''s an asshole who''s been pushing us around for years, and doesn''t quite seem to understand that he got away with it because we let him, because it wasn''t worth putting him in his place. But now we''re not in school anymore. And our patience has finally worn out."


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    "You ready to talk, John?" I asked.


    "Fffffuck... yyyyou..." John rasped out.


    I sighed, preparing to stand up and kick him around some more.


    "You fucking... rich bastard," John continued. Fuck, was he about to start monologuing? "Never had to struggle a day in your life. Don''t know what it''s like to be nothing but a poor, worthless human in a world of magical elves and strong dwarves and cunning orcs. Just another disposable cog in the machine. The Guild... The Thieves'' Guild, it''s my way out. Make something more of myself. Get me a good woman, so my kid doesn''t have to struggle like I do. But you kept standing in my way... Getting between me and Talia... Made her hate me."


    "John," Talia said softly, as she approached him. This time, I did stand up, knowing instantly where she was going with this. "John, I... I''m sorry, I... No, John. Joseph didn''t make me hate you."


    "...Talia?" John asked, a flicker of hope igniting in his eyes.


    With a meaty thud, her heel landed right where John''s legs joined together.


    "No," Talia continued. "You did that all on your own, you piece of shit. Whenever you weren''t chasing after me like I was just a trophy, you were drooling over me like I was just a piece of meat. I was never a real person to you. Never someone you wanted to talk to, get to know, be friends with, but just... That one elf chick with the huge knockers who you wanna take as your wife so she can have your awful fucking babies. And then you joined the Thieves'' Guild, so you could, what, steal me away from Joseph? Newsflash, asshole! I am not some fucking thing that you can steal! I am my own fucking person, with a brain and a heart, and from the bottom of that heart, I want nothing more than to say: I hate you. I hate you so, so fucking much. You are everything wrong with how humans treat elves all wrapped up into one shitty little self-absorbed asshole."


    And with that, Talia turned and walked away.


    "Huh," I said, nodding slowly. "Would you look at that? Turns out I''m not the person who hates you the most of all in the entire world."


    "You know, Mr. Courser," a voice said from within John''s pocket. The hell? Did he have some sort of speaking stone?


    I reached into John''s pocket, and pulled out a fist-sized box made of... some strange material I couldn''t identify. It was lightweight, fairly rigid- a bit stiffer than wood, but without any obvious grain direction. On it were two circles, each partially covered by a horizontal grille of thick bars of the same matte black material. The larger circle seemed to be where the speech was coming from; presumably, the smaller circle was where you spoke into it.


    "When I asked if you knew Mr. Ironheart, and you said yes, you neglected to mention your relationship was adversarial."


    "Y- your highness, I," John gasped out.


    "Shut the fuck up, you worthless shitbag," the voice said flatly, the polite veneer stripped away. "It was a simple plan: Joseph Ironheart wanted the statue from Magister Brown, so we would steal the statue and offer it to him as part of a deal. All you had to do, after your man handed over the statue, was pass along an invitation to talk to Joseph Ironheart, and do you know what happened instead? You made him come to you as part of a fucking Paladin''s Guild Investigation, and got a dozen of my operatives pointlessly wounded in the process! You are the most worthless, unreliable scumbag I''ve ever had to work with, and considering I am The King Of Thieves, that is fucking saying something!" A bit of heavy breathing came through the speaking stone. "Well. At any rate. Mr. Ironheart, are you still there?"


    "You''re the King of Thieves?" I asked.


    "The one and only," he said.


    "The fuck are you doing in Redwater?" I asked. "Hikaan is like two thousand miles east of here."


    "To conduct my business with you, as a matter of fact," the King of Thieves said. "Now, I would like to offer my apologies for hiring quite literally the worst person in the world to contact you; my ignorance has no excuse. Would you be willing to speak with me in the red warehouse at 5th and Tira sometime soon?"


    I grunted. That was pretty nearby... "What''re you aiming for, here?"


    "I need a man of your precise talents and nature for a very simple and brief job," the King of Thieves said. "I''m willing to pay handsomely- not just in the form of your grandmother''s effigy, but also in the form of two million dollars in cash."


    I blinked.


    One dollar was enough to buy four monthly comic books, a day''s worth of hot meals from street vendors, or a week''s worth of dry rice from a greengrocer.


    Ten dollars was enough to pay rent on a decent apartment, buy a new bicycle, or even buy a horse- although you''d need more than that to feed it.


    A thousand dollars was the kind of money that''d buy you a house. Even a nice house, fit for an upper class family, was only about ten thousand dollars.


    With two million dollars? I''d have the kind of money that only aristocrats and the Merchant''s Guild see. It wouldn''t quite be "I am now the peer of Duke Redwater," but it would be enough that I could demand to speak with him and it''d be inconvenient to tell me no.


    Well. There was only one thing I could say to that.


    "I don''t believe you when you say all this hostility is John''s fault," I said. "Make it ten million, paid in advance, and then we''ll talk."


    "...You drive a hard bargain. Fine. Remember: the red warehouse at 5th and Tira. This Saturday, when the clock strikes noon. Don''t be tardy, Mr. Ironheart."

 Book 1 Chapter 12

    "I''m a little surprised you were fine with just leaving them there," I said.


    "Standard operating procedure with the Thieves'' Guild," Faith said, as we rode back to Greenwood Village. "Unless we''ve got something specific to pin on them... we just leave ''em where they lie, once we''re done with ''em. They prefer it that way, and it''s easier for us."


    "Even if they''re bleeding?" Talia asked.


    "Hano is willing to acknowledge that Fingers, the God of Thieves, is a full member of the Hikaano Pantheon, but is otherwise wholly unsympathetic to anyone who pledges themselves to Fingers'' service."


    "Man, Paladins do not fuck around," Talia said.


    "Yeah, that''s kinda their whole thing," I said. "Most of the Guilds are just interested in maintaining their social power, and their monopoly on certain trades. The Paladin''s Guild is well-known for being different, and having a different agenda that they proactively pursue rather than reactively maintaining. Makes ''em less dysfunctional than most other Guilds, but... well. Let''s just say their agenda isn''t always unobjectionable."


    "The War Of The Roses was three hundred years ago," Faith said.


    "My goddamn dad fought in that war, so no, you don''t get to act like it''s not within living memory," I snapped. "Sure, three hundred years is several human lifetimes ago, but humans aren''t exactly the aggrieved party here, are they?"


    "I meant more, it''s been three hundred years, every Paladin involved is dead now," Faith said.


    "Hano is very much still alive and in charge," I said bitterly. "And he refuses to apologize or admit that slaughtering children like lambs was a bad thing, because then his Paladins might refuse to kill children for him, and he''s not willing to take that option off the table."


    Thunder rumbled overhead, and I snorted.


    "Come down here and say it to my face, asshole."


    The thunder rumbled again, but quieter.


    "Yeah, ''swhat I fuckin'' thought."


    "I feel like the God of Paladins isn''t quite as intimidated by you as you might think," Faith said dryly.


    "Then you need a theology lesson," I said. "The Hikaano Pantheon aren''t called The Living Gods for no reason, after all. They''ve died before, and they''ll die again. Look up how many Gods of Thieves there''ve been over the millennia."


    "I think maybe we should find something else to talk about that isn''t going to become a huge argument that ends with drawn weapons," Talia said.


    "I think that there should be a God of Gay People," I said.


    "Fuck no," Faith said. "Could you imagine how humiliating it''d be to get rejected by the Faggot''s Guild?"


    ---


    "So, Saturday at noon, huh?" Dad said, once we got back from the Warehouse District.


    "The King of Thieves wants to see me," I said simply. "He''s got something he needs an elf for, and he''s willing to pay for it. I''ll get the statue back and ten million dollars for it."


    "That''s a trap," Mom said immediately.


    "Well, obviously," I said. "Luckily, we''ve got time to prepare for it, so I can kick his ass up and down the street." I turned to look at Faith. "You got any complaints about that?"


    "...The King of Thieves, by default, has lost all protections of the law," Faith said simply. "Whoever they are, they are always wanted by the Paladin''s Guild. Dead or alive."


    "Duly noted," I said.


    "I don''t feel good about you walking into an obvious trap," Mom said, frowning. "Even if you are my son, the fact that you can handle yourself doesn''t mean you can handle everything. Are you sure this is worth it?"


    "Very certain," I said, nodding. "But hey, since you need assurances, how ''bout I promise to bring you back something pretty, like the funerary effigy of Dad''s hearth-mother?"


    "I''ll pass."


    "The King of Thieves'' head?"


    "Now that''s my boy."


    "Ahem," Faith said.


    "Is the Paladin''s Guild willing to pay a bounty for the King of Thieves'' head?" I asked.


    "...Well, not as such, but-" Faith began.


    "Then they''re not getting it," I said. "Once I''ve taken it from his shoulders, it is mine by right of conquest, and they can either pay a fair price for it, or they can come down here and try to take it by force. And I don''t know about you, but I don''t like their odds."


    "...Fair enough," Faith said, sighing. "So... what next?"


    "Well, I''m the only classically-trained Mage-Knight in town, so I am about to have my hands full giving my son one last bit of training," Dad said. "You and Talia, though..." Dad shrugged. "I don''t know. Catch up on your reading? Waiting is all you''ve got."


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    "Well, fair enough," Faith said. "Is there... any chance we could participate in that training, or...?"


    "I can only train one person at a time, and with all due respect, I''m more interested in training my son than the girl wearing the uniform of the people who killed my entire family."


    "...So that''s who he gets it from," Faith murmured.


    "Faith, I have told you that my hatred of Paladins is born from the fact they killed my grandparents," I said. "That was a half hour ago."


    "Also your aunts and uncles," Dad added. "Hell, the only reason Frederick survived is because he wasn''t in the country at the time- he was off studying with the shugenja on the far side of the continent, and the Paladins couldn''t kill him. Now, you, young lady, are not being chased out of here with a sword because you''re eighteen, and your stupidity is as excusable as it is unsurprising. You''ve been lied to about the noble cause of the Paladin''s Guild, and it''s not completely your fault you believed them. But..." Dad grimaced a little. "Well. If you''re going to be sticking around after this Sunday, I''d appreciate it if you didn''t bring that uniform past my doorstep again."


    "Napoleon," Talia said firmly, planting her hands on her hips.


    "Talia," Dad said calmly. "I understand your position, and also your father''s position. You both grew up knowing only a world where elves living under Hikaano law was the norm. I understand how and why your position is to just make the best of what we have now, and work for a better future. I can even respect that. But Talia, I cannot join you in the land of letting go, because I didn''t grow up that way, and I still remember having to identify my father''s crispy-fried corpse by his fucking teeth. That tends to leave a mark on a fellow!"


    "Likewise," I continued, "the fact that I got to grow up hearing stories about all the cool shit my extended family did, and then be reminded that they are all dead, has also left its mark on me. At any rate, it sounds like I''ve got a camping trip to pack for, so... Both of you out of my house."


    ---


    The targets all popped with a puff of smoke and a sharp noise- but much, much quieter than my own weapon should''ve been. They were all balloons, created from leaves and kept aloft by what Napoleon Ironheart called ''simple druidcraft,'' but which would be devilishly complicated for a wizard to accomplish, despite the fact both primal and arcane magic dealt in the material. It was down to the driving forces; primal magic was powered by the Living Earth and your relationship with it, while arcane magic was all you. The Living Earth understood the natural world very, very well, better than any scholar of the natural sciences could ever hope to manage, but the truly artificial, while often conceptually simple, was often far beyond its grasp.


    "I didn''t have time to do it properly," Dad admitted, as I lowered my weapon. "These are just the basic charms- silencing, accuracy, and power. But they''ll have to suffice."


    "It''s already a lot better than it was," I said. "The accuracy enchantment is throwing me off a little, but... it mostly amounts to not accounting for the arc at long range. I''ll have to adjust the sights a little, get it dialed in. But for now..." I engaged safety catch, and holstered my weapon. "I like it. Thank you."


    "I''m glad," Dad said. "There''d usually be a long ritual of finding the right tree, carving it into your bow and the hundred unbreaking arrows that would forever be by your side, and anointing it through three trials, but..." Dad shrugged. "Well, we don''t have time for that, and you''re not using a bow in the first place. We''re improvising."


    "And some people say elves don''t understand the meaning of haste," Mom said. She''d decided to come with us, to shore up my training as a Wizard, on account I couldn''t do the same sorts of magic that Dad could.


    "As if elves don''t deal with the same cycle of the seasons as everyone else," Dad muttered. "The one thing we do struggle with is the specific timeframe of a human life, and that''s because it''s so much longer than anything else found in nature, aside from elephants, tortoises, and some sea creatures. And even then, humans have lived among elves for thousands of years! Half-elves have always been a fact of life!"


    "Focus, Napoleon," I said.


    "Right," Dad said, nodding. "The fact we like to run our mouths probably isn''t helping with that misunderstanding. Anyhow! I''m going to mark out a circular trail, and you''re going to ride it on your motorcycle a few times. Once you''re confident, I''m gonna put up targets, and you''re gonna shoot ''em while riding your motorcycle. Ready?"


    Using a ranged weapon from the back of a moving horse- steel or otherwise- was the sort of skill that was so abominably hard to do usefully that it was pretty much impossible for a human to learn it as an adult. They had to be raised in an environment where horse archery was a basic life skill- how every adult man hunted and fought, and what every boy played at from the day they were old enough to sit on a sheep and shoot a toy bow.


    Now, I''d been practicing with a toy bow in a little toy wagon pulled by my father since I was four, and with this weapon on this motorcycle ever since I''d built them, two years ago. I was already pretty good, and could reliably nail even moving targets- fake riders on fake horses, constructed from leaves and twigs by more of my father''s druidcraft. But I didn''t strictly need long practice- I was an elf, and one of the things elves were known for was possessing a dexterity and quickness of reflex that surpassed humanity, making us far more accurate archers with the same amount of practice, for all that a human could shoot a heavier bow that would launch arrows farther and with more power behind them. With humans, archers had to be raised, not trained, and doubly so with horse archers. But with elves, those were skills that could be learned in adulthood, given that elves learned them faster and had more time in which to learn them.


    So, what did it matter, that I wasn''t strong enough to fight a human with just a sword and win? That wasn''t the elven way. That was the human way. The elven way was to fight smarter, not harder, and pick our enemies off from afar with well-placed shots; not to fight them like men, but to hunt them like animals.


    I nodded to my father. "I''m ready," I said.

 Book 1 Chapter 13

    "One last try," Dad said, stepping back, a clay pot in his hands holding the last dregs of the ritual paint he''d mixed up. "It''s a longshot, but... It''s worth a try."


    I nodded solemnly, although... I was rather more pessimistic about my chances than he was. We''d tried this before, and it had never worked. It wasn''t a case of me saying, at the young age of 18, that if it hadn''t happened yet then it never would- that was preposterous nonsense, given just how fucking long elves lived- but rather, a case of me saying that if the last five attempts over as many years didn''t work... well, then this one probably wasn''t gonna work either.


    If it did work, if I really did manage to commune with The Living Earth and attune myself to the rhythms of nature, then I''d have a brand new ace up my sleeve: the primal magics of the druid. Even if I wasn''t a very good druid, and I would absolutely suck at druidcraft with only a day or two in the woods with my dad to learn it in the few spare moments where I wasn''t drilling my riding and shooting and swordplay, a greenhorn druid would still be capable of some tricks that neither a wizard nor occultist could properly match.


    And if this didn''t work... well, I was already more-or-less out of magicka for today, and in fact really appreciated having the chance to rest my sore and weary muscles. I might as well use this time to try communing with nature instead of just napping.


    So, I just... sat there. Listening to the chirping of crickets, the soft beating of a songbird''s wings... The sounds of nature.


    Well. Something approximating nature. The forests around Redwater were well-traveled and well-maintained by the local Ranger''s Guild, and this stretch of it where we''d made our camp was hardly wild. It wasn''t our house made of bricks and steel, though, so... hey, maybe that was close enough.


    I frowned. It wasn''t that I didn''t understand the Path of the Druid, what with being raised by Napoleon Ironheart and growing up with Antiope and Talia Jones. The Living Earth was a metaphor; you attuned yourself with the many distinct yet interconnected magical forces that flowed through the natural world, where men did not make their homes. Once you were in tune with those forces, once you were enmeshed in the natural world, you could act upon those forces, gently nudging them to produce great magical effects.


    And yet, I couldn''t do that. It was strange, was it not? I was perfectly capable of teaching myself the occult magic of story and song simply because I thought it a worthwhile path of inquiry, and yet here I was, with a fucking master of primal magic trying to teach me, and I couldn''t do it.


    It was almost as though I didn''t understand the Path of the Druid, and was fundamentally wrong about it.


    I was starting to understand, now- while it was the case that a Druid was not a Cleric, and The Living Earth was not a Divinity, there still remained some similarities. A Druid needed sincerity- a genuine, good-faith desire to understand the dynamics of nature, to live alongside nature, and to compromise with nature when conflict arose. Druidcraft wasn''t a field of study, a vocational skill you could just learn with a few hours of study a week. It was a sacred calling, every bit as holy and life-defining as the divine.


    And that left me in an awkward spot. Druidcraft was a useful tool, and I''d like to be able to wield it, but I can''t, because I''m just fundamentally not that kind of person. I''m not a naturalist. I''m not an herbalist, a huntsman- hell, I don''t even like camping. I''m a city slicker. Worse than that, I''m a machinist. I built a steel horse with a beating heart of iron, and can''t imagine why the spirits of the natural world might take offense to that.


    It was... This was all pointless. Why the hell was Napoleon bothering here, anyhow? Is he just in denial about how little of a shit I actually give about hugging trees and touching grass? Is he hoping that I''ll spontaneously develop a desire to go fishing with him? Or have I somehow managed to arrive at a different misunderstanding about how druidcraft works?


    "...I''m not learning anything here that I didn''t already know," I said, sighing after a good few minutes of trying and failing to commune with nature. "I just... I don''t think I have it in me."


    "That''s..." Dad sighed, shaking his head. "...I expected that, honestly. But... I had to try."


    "I''m just... not any kind of nature-lover," I admitted. "I''m a city boy, I''m a machinist, I''m a wizard, and the dwarves all call me Shathur, which means something like ''tall dwarf'' in their language. I keep approaching druidcraft like a skill to be studied, rather than a relationship to be built, and when I do think of it as a relationship to be built..." I shrugged. "...well. Hard to build a relationship with something you don''t really like, isn''t it? Incidentally, I think Talia might have a thing for Faith, and I''d rather Faith not stick around like that. You got any advice for that?"


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    "...Well, you could tell Talia that you don''t like Faith and don''t want her around," Dad said, a bit nonplussed by the sudden tangent. "Just because we''re elves doesn''t mean you have to accept everyone into your bed that Talia brings before you."


    "Fair enough," I said, before pushing myself up off the forest floor. "Right. Well... I have another idea. Don''t suppose we have any candles, do we?"


    ---


    The Living Gods of the Hikaano Pantheon were hardly the only divinities around. The High Elves have followed our own gods since time immemorial, and even after the War Of The Roses, with their worship outlawed, the faith was still carried on, just... in private.


    "I give my thanks to The Father," I recited, kneeling before a trio of lit candles, all set into a carefully-carved wooden block with copper filigree. "He has taught us of the world as it is; of the constant passage of Time, of the inevitability and necessity of Death, and of the loving kindness of Fatherhood. May we meet in truth when my time comes; I hope to make you proud.


    "I give my thanks to The Mother," I continued. "She has taught us of the world as it should be; of Freedom for all peoples from oppression and control, of Justice to set right that which has been made wrong, and of War to enforce Justice when all else has failed. May you protect me from those who would collar and bind me, may you give me the moral clarity to avoid collaring and binding others, and may you give me strength to protect others from oppression."


    A gentle breeze picked up, ruffling the candle flames, but not quite putting them out. In a forest, though, there wasn''t really a way for a breeze to be felt at this level. That was divine intervention, just as surely as the rumble of thunder overhead had been when I blasphemed Hano. The breeze went away, but I was certain they were still listening.


    "Mother, I beg of you," I whispered, moving past the standard prayers. "I am on a quest to make things right, to return to my family the funerary effigy of my father''s hearth-mother, and to thwart whatever evil is being plotted by the King of Thieves. Please, Mother, I need your help- lend me your strength, so that I may see justice be done."


    The breeze picked up again, but this time... I could hear the faintest impression of words within the breeze, if I truly focused.


    "I hear you, child," a gruff voice whispered in my ear. "You''ve come to me, hat in hand, asking for help. I''m not unsympathetic; that statue does rightfully belong to your family, and the King of Thieves really is cookin'' up somethin'' rotten. But, kiddo... you''re wrong."


    "...About what?" I all but demanded, before catching myself and trying to reel it back in.


    "You don''t need my help," The Mother whispered to me. "You''re stronger than you think. You can do this on your own, I promise. You don''t need to go cutting deals with some celestial busybody to bring Justice into this world."


    "I- but-" I blinked, struggling to process that. "Look, I want to work with you! I want to become a force for Justice in the world, to right wrongs and make life better for everyone I come across! All I need from you is a little help, and I can do so much more!"


    "You''re doing enough."


    And with that, The Mother dismissed me, the breeze finally blowing out the candles.


    I sat there, still and silent, for long moments, turning over what had just happened. A lifetime of prayer, every night before bed, and this was when I finally got my answer from The Mother. Where she said she didn''t want me as one of her Clerics.


    "The gods," I said, at long last, and a bit more loudly than was strictly necessary, "can fuck themselves."


    "Tried to pray to The Mother for strength, I take it?" my actual mother said, stepping into the clearing. "And then she told you that you already had plenty?"


    "Has she done that to you as well?"


    "She has. And it was the most infuriating thing I''d ever heard, for all that it''s supposed to be encouraging." Mom sighed, coming to a stop beside me, and squatting down to my level. "But kiddo? You''re a fucking wizard. You can throw fireballs and lightning bolts just by thinking about it hard enough. The gods wanna tell you that you don''t need ''em? Fine, fuck ''em. You''ll prove ''em right, and lay low everyone who stands in your way. Not because you''ve got the blessing of some fragmentary personality wrapped around an abstract idea and a fuckload of power, but because you have power all of your own."


    "Sure, but... Is it going to be enough to overcome the King of Thieves?" I asked.


    "You look me in the eyes and tell me that you, someone who can snap bowstrings and burst blood vessels with your will alone, have anything to fear from a glorified pickpocket who has to go running to daddy every time he wants some magic done."


    I grunted wordlessly. "I... I mean, I get it, I''m just..." I sighed. "...We''ll see if you''re right, once the dust settles. I sure hope you are right."


    "Hope is nice to have," Mom said, before standing up. "Preparation is nicer. That''s what I''m here for."

 Book 1 Chapter 14

    It was Friday evening, the last chance to prepare me for the upcoming fight. Mom was drilling me on the first, and only, new spell she''d taught me on our little training trip.


    Dad had taken my weapon, called upon the winds, and then threw it, through the air, to land a mile or so away, in some random part of the forest, where I''d likely never find it if I couldn''t use magic.


    I exhaled gently through my nose. Wherever my weapon was, it was glowing blue. Then it disappeared with flash of violet light, reappearing with much the same as I called it to my hand.


    This was one of the simplest forms of teleportation magic there was: preparing an object ahead of time with a personalized arcane marker, and then teleporting it to your person from wherever it currently was. And because it was, supposedly, so goddamn simple, the spell had been drilled into me relentlessly, until I could call my weapon to my hand from a mile away while dodging hostile projectiles and riding my motorcycle through a difficult trail.


    Once my weapon appeared in my hand, I squeezed off a shot at the next rock Dad threw at me "just to make sure I was still sharp," and pulled my bike into a sideways skidding halt, kicking up loam and litter at him as I came up to his hiding spot.


    "Asshole," I said, slugging him in the shoulder.


    "Hey, you''re about to fight the King of Assholes," Dad said. "Or, well, one of the Kings of Assholes. There''s other assholes in this world. Point is, I want you to be ready for this. I want you to walk in there, handle this, and think that the training was harder than the real thing, because training should be harder than the real thing. The more you sweat, the less you''ll bleed."


    I sighed. "Yeah, I know. Just, y''know." I shrugged. "You put a lot of work into being an asshole, there, and I just want you to know: I recognize your efforts, Napoleon. Your efforts in the field of being a colossal prick."


    "Hey, if you''re breathing easily enough that you can smart-mouth me, maybe we oughtta run that a few more times," Dad said, stroking his chin.


    "Absolutely not," Mom said, shaking her head as she walked into the clearing with us. "Even you can see it, Napoleon- the boy''s damn near out of magicka. If he casts another spell in the next ten minutes, he''s going to get mana burn, and even you''d be hard-pressed to treat that well enough for him to survive tomorrow."


    "I could just go in his place," Dad suggested. "He is my son, after all, and I doubt the King of Thieves can tell elves apart that well."


    "We look very different to anyone with even a scrap of magical perception," I said, shaking my head. "Considering that, if anyone in the Thieves'' Guild is capable of divine magic, it''s the King of Thieves, we''re probably not gonna be able to sneak that one by him."


    "Also, you are a redhead, and your father''s hair is green," Mom pointed out dryly.


    "In the meantime, though..." I stretched and yawned, and holstered my weapon inside my jacket. "I think I''m in agreement with Mom: I am done for today, and I would really, really like to get some sleep."


    "Fair enough," Dad said, nodding. "We''ll meet you back at the house, then, so you can sleep in a real bed."


    With a flourish of magic, Dad turned into a hawk and flew off, and Mom teleported away in a flash of blue light.


    "...Assholes," I muttered, before kicking my motorcycle back down into first gear as I puttered off back towards Redwater.


    ---


    Despite my imprecations upon their character, I did return home to what was very likely my favorite meal: beef stew, with leeks, carrots, and potatoes. Which, well, was also probably just a generally good choice for the night before a big day- it was hearty and filling in addition to being my personal favorite.


    Antiope and Tim were here, too, what with Tim having come by after the able-bodied members of House Ironheart went camping for several days and left behind a wheelchair-bound old man whose ability to take care of himself wasn''t quite what it used to be. Considering the looks Tim and Frederick shot each other every now and then, I had the sneaking suspicion that the two had taken quite the liking to each other.


    Talia and Faith, meanwhile, both patted me on the back as I regaled them with tales of my training, and Uncle Frederick simply beamed with pride the whole time, as though I were his own son- which, considering that he''d helped raise me, and was the impetus behind my birth, I kinda was. He may have been my uncle, but... well, now that I thought about it, he wasn''t just my uncle- he was my Hearth-Father, for all that he wasn''t also romantically involved with my parents- or at least, I hoped he wasn''t.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    "Alright," I said, once I''d emptied my bowl. "I... am going to fall asleep the second my head hits the pillow, so if anyone''s got anything to say, now''s the time to say it."


    "Good luck, my boy," Frederick said.


    "Go forth and conquer," Dad said.


    "Bring me back something nice, will you?" Mom added.


    "I''ll bring you the head of the King of Thieves," I promised.


    "Are you going there alone?" Faith asked.


    "He absolutely is not," Talia said, before I could say anything. "This isn''t just about him. We were there from the beginning, and we''re gonna see it through to the end."


    "...Sure, why not," I said, nodding. "I don''t think they''ll let you two through the door, but... well, better safe than sorry."


    I may have been relying on my abilities as a wizard so far, but... I was a student of the occult, too. The magic of story and song. Maybe I wasn''t a real bard- I couldn''t play an instrument, after all- but I did know a thing or two about the structure of stories, and... Well. This didn''t feel like a real ensemble piece to me. Talia was just here because she''s personally attached to both myself and Faith, whereas Faith was here because of some weird bureaucratic fuckery that has not, to my knowledge, been meaningfully advanced.


    I, however, was here to reclaim the funerary effigy of my father''s hearth-mother, as well as to prove myself as a competent and capable combatant.


    Maybe it was just bias from only seeing the world through my own perspective, but, uh. Well. Couldn''t help but feel like this was a story about me, which Faith and Talia simply happen to also be present for.


    "Anyhow," I said, slowly standing up on shaky legs. "I am. So fucking tired. And I''m going to bed now. Talia, mind coming with me?"


    "Her parents are right there," Faith said.


    "Get it, girl," Antiope said flatly.


    "...Right. Elves." Faith stood up. "Well, fuck it. Room for one more?"


    "Yes!" Talia said.


    Some occult insight flashed through my brain, and I held my tongue. On the one hand, I did not like Faith. On the other hand, Talia clearly did, and, well¡­ Some amount of compromise was necessary.


    Honestly, aside from the parts where Faith spoke positively about the Paladin''s Guild- which had killed my grandparents and most of their children- she wasn''t that bad. Sure, the bad stuff was pretty bad, but¡­


    ¡­Iunno. Maybe I can fix her.


    I wondered if this was how Elana had felt about Terpsichore at first- darling dearest brought home some random human that they clearly want to fuck, and I have no idea what the hell is going on, but I''m mildly concerned and wished I wasn''t in this situation.


    So instead, I let Faith and Talia take my arms and help me up the stairs.


    ¡ª


    "So¡­ after this..." Faith began, as I climbed into bed. "...Have you considered joining the Paladin''s Guild?"


    "I''d rather eat glass," I said.


    "Okay, can both of you chill out?" Talia said, planting her hands on her hips. "Faith, I get it, the Paladin''s Guild is important to you, but it also killed his grandparents, and I would really like it if you''d stop bringing it up every ten minutes. ''Polite tolerance'' is the best you''re getting out of him about your Paladin-ness, and frankly, that''s all you''re getting from me, too."


    "Oof," I muttered.


    "And you!" Talia said, turning to address me. "Yeah, yeah, we both know the definition of ''generational trauma.'' But could you maybe try being diplomatic instead of rattling your saber of moral high-ground? You could''ve been the one to tell Faith to chill out on the Paladin stuff, if you weren''t too busy trying to score points in this stupid fucking culture war!"


    "...Point," I admitted. "Okay. Faith, I''m sorry I was so abrasive. Please stop talking to me about the Paladin''s Guild, so I can have an easier time of not being a dick to you."


    "I... can try, yeah," Faith said. "It''s... well, it is important to me, like Talia said, but... well. I guess I can get where you''re coming from, here."


    "There we go," Talia said. "Now... kiss."


    "I''m going to sleep now," I said dryly.


    "Aw, c''mon," Faith said.


    "Aren''t you a lesbian?"


    "Yeah, but if I can show you to my parents as a boyfriend, I can get away with sleeping with your girlfriend."


    "...I''m going to sleep now," I repeated, this time more forcefully.


    ---


    I looked myself in the mirror with trepidation, the next morning.


    Despite my initial thinking... I''d ended up shaving. A man of any age could be clean-shaven, but only a teenager playing at being a man could grow a mustache as scraggly and pathetic as mine was.


    From there, though, my grooming was a simple matter. I combed out my long, flame-red hair, before applying a thin film of waxy oil to fix it in place as I slicked it back, and tilted my head this way and that as I examined the way it, and my ears, framed my own pale, sharp-featured face.


    Ultimately, an elf is simply never going to look like a human''s archetypal "tough guy," with broad features and a neck as thick as a tree stump. But there was an image of the archetypal Elven Mage-Knight, still in the popular consciousness, and to my good fortune, that image was largely based on my fucking dad. Even for people who can''t tell elves apart... I was one scary motherfucker, once I slipped into my black leather duster.


    Mom had helped enchant it further, during my training. Before, it had simply been unnaturally durable, and waterproof, and likely to survive centuries of being worn, provided I didn''t get into any motorcycle crashes while wearing it. But now, it was proper armor, the leather affording me the sort of protection normally associated with plates of steel, to the point it would likely outlive me, even if someone killed me while I was wearing it.


    I laced up my boots- nothing special, save for a noticeable heel and a notch under the arch for grabbing stirrups or foot-posts on a motorcycle- and stepped out of my bathroom.


    "Alright, ladies," I said. "It''s showtime."

 Book 1 Chapter 15

    "Well, you''re certainly nice and inconspicuous," the Thieves'' Guild enforcer said acidly as we walked into the red warehouse at 5th and Tira, right before the clock struck noon. "At least you had the good sense to leave the Paladins out of this."


    "The Paladins would be for your protection, not mine," I said, folding up my motorcycle storage cloth before stowing it in its designated pocket- there were ways to nest pocket dimensions inside each other, and I even knew some of them, but they were all difficult, and I hadn''t really bothered with it for this. "Now, where''s the King of Thieves? He and I have business to get to."


    We were inside the warehouse''s receiving area, which had been walled off from the rest of the warehouse floor, with no visible doors, and only one hallway leading back into gloomy shadows. Here to greet us were a pair of Thieves'' Guild Enforcers- as well-dressed as men could be without looking out-of-place in a warehouse, with conspicuously cheap suits befitting the sorts of men who did clerical work in these buildings.


    I stifled a chuckle at the fact the lights weren''t on in here. Thieves had a reputation for keeping their territory poorly-lit, to spook everyone else, but if that was what they were going to try on an elf, then they were too stupid to be worth taking seriously; everyone knows elves can see in the dark. Not to the same extent as dwarves and goblins, sure, but definitely better than humans can- in fact, humans had the most uniquely pathetic night vision out of the common bipedal peoples of the world.


    "Right this way, sir," the other Thieves'' Guild enforcer said, in an inappropriately refined voice. "I''m afraid your friends will have to wait outside."


    "Yeah, yeah, whatever," I said, idly noting that the interior wall didn''t look like it was made of brick, and could probably be punched through if I was willing to really put my back into it.


    "Your coat, too," the first enforcer said, holding out an expectant hand.


    "...I''ve got stuff in my pockets, so I''m handing it off to someone who won''t rifle through it at earliest convenience," I said dryly, slipping my coat off my shoulders and passing it to Talia- who did not need her hands free in order to fight, considering she was a spellcaster. "There. Unarmed. Happy? Where''s the boss-man?"


    "Right through here, sir," the second enforcer said, as I followed him down the hall. The gloom deepened further, until I was pretty confident a human wouldn''t be able to see in the dark. However... I didn''t get to grow up among humans without learning something about their stupid gods, and one of the things I knew was that the most common gift Fingers gave to his thieves was the ability to see in the dark like dwarves can. "Through the curtain."


    I grunted as I passed him, ignoring how the door closed right behind me and left me with only one way forward: through the curtain on the other side of this impromptu pseudo-closet.


    It was bright in here, and while that likely would have dazzled a human for a moment, an elf like me was more-or-less unfazed. What did faze me, however, was the sheer glittering, opulent wealth on display inside this warehouse. All sorts of ostentatious objets d''art, from every corner of the world, and if I had to guess, each and every one of them had been stolen. The centerpiece, I knew for a fact, certainly was. There was no other earthly explanation for how the King of Thieves had come into the possession of that statue, that funerary effigy, the carefully-carved stone that represented in its totality what little remains of Terpsichore Ironheart.


    And beside the statue stood a man who could only be the King of Thieves.


    "She truly was a beauty," he remarked, examining Terpsichore''s effigy, his chin in his hands. He was a wisp of a man, barely an inch taller than Talia, and so otherwise nondescript and indistinct that he could blend into any crowd. "Small wonder you''d want it back. Hello, Joseph."


    "Thief," I said, folding my arms.


    "If you must have a name for me besides ''The King of Thieves,'' you can call me Butterfly," he said, turning away from Terpsichore''s effigy to regard me. "Or... for you? I''ll even let you call me Maxwell. Maxwell Tenpenny."


    "I''m sure telling me your real name is a big deal among thieves, but I''m a normal person," I said dryly. "Now, I was promised ten million dollars in cash up-front?"


    "That you were, that you were," Maxwell said, turning and reaching behind the statue, before picking up and pulling out... a briefcase. A fancy briefcase, made of polished aluminum, but still, a briefcase. "Now, pardon the question, but with elves, I find it pays to clarify- you are familiar with the concept of paper money, correct?"


    "It''s been around for longer than I have," I said dryly. "I''ve never known a world without paper money. Now, I''ll admit I don''t handle that much paper money, but I understand that you simply can''t hand me a briefcase containing ten million dollars in coinage."


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    "Just so," Maxwell said, before opening up the briefcase in my direction so I could see it. "This, right here, is one hundred standard bundles of one hundred standard bills, printed by the Merchant''s Guild themselves, with each bill being worth a full one thousand dollars. I trust you can do the math to tell you that adds up to ten million dollars?"


    "I''m a wizard," I said, yanking the briefcase out of his hands with a quick spell, and catching it in my own. I thumbed through the bills for a brief second just to catch any obvious chicanery, but... well, if it turns out he did cheat me, oh well. I only needed the statue. "Now, the statue as well?" I snapped the briefcase closed, and cast a variant of the teleportation spell Mom had taught me- rather than teleporting a marked object to my location, I teleported an object in my hands to a marked location, in my house. Unfortunately, it wouldn''t work on anything alive, and especially not on me, but... well. I was still learning. I''d figure it out eventually.


    "I must say, you are being awfully brusque with me," Maxwell said, even as he threw an enchanted dropcloth over the statue, before bundling that up and tossing it to me. I teleported it back home too, to land on top of the briefcase. "What have I ever done to earn such hostility from you, Mr. Ironheart?"


    "Well, there''s the part where you used catspaws to steal the funerary effigy of my grandma just so you could twist my arm until I agreed to whatever it is you wanted from me," I said dryly. "But there''s also the part where you, Maxwell Tenpenny, King of Thieves, are the High Priest of a god that gleefully partook in the slaughter of my people and the plundering of my lands. That''s kind of the downside of being the King of Thieves, y''know? Nobody with morals likes or respects you. Everyone thinks you''re the Asshole In Chief of a notably vicious criminal cartel, because that''s what you are. Why exactly are you surprised that I look at you with the sort of disgusted contempt normally reserved for things I scrape off my boots?"


    "...Well, for one, it''s usually dwarves who go on a tirade about the evils of thieves," Maxwell said. "At least, that''s how it goes in the stories. But we''re not in a story, are we? Not unless you''re a Bard and didn''t tell me?"


    "Yeah, I don''t care," I said. "Just spit it out, Max. What do you want from me?"


    "A conversation, first and foremost," Maxwell said. "Come now, my boy. You''re an elf, aren''t you? Lacking the patience of even a human is simply embarrassing."


    "Maxwell, I have things to do," I said, stepping forward. "Get to the point, now."


    Maxwell sighed wearily. "You want to be the first Elven Mage-Knight in three centuries, don''t you?"


    I flinched, just a bit. How did he-


    "It''s not that hard to figure out," Maxwell continued. "Talia talks, and talks a lot. I hear it''s quite frustrating for her, actually."


    "You''re in your forties, aren''t you?" I asked. "Isn''t it just a little beneath you to be paying attention to the sex gossip of teenage girls?"


    "Ah, but as the King of Thieves, nothing is beneath me," Maxwell said, grinning. "There''s no such thing as... how do you say it, again? Hhhhonorrr, among thieves." He grinned wider, waiting expectantly, than frowned. "That was funnier in my head. Do you at least get it? That I was trying to imply that honor was such an alien concept to me that I didn''t even know how to pronounce the word?"


    "Truly, I weep for you," I said dryly. "Now if you''ve got something actionable to say?"


    "I want to live forever-"


    "Even after that joke flopped? Usually that makes people say they wish they were dead."


    "Do you or do you not want to get out of here faster?" Maxwell demanded, his grin finally gone. Looks like it was his turn to lose his patience. Yeah, now you know how I feel, motherfucker. "Then stop interrupting me, you little shit. I want to live forever, and you are the material component of a ritual that''ll make that happen."


    I reached for my knife, realizing halfway that the guards had taken my coat before I went in. It was stupid instinct, anyhow; I knew how to call my weapons to my hands, now, and when I was actually ready to turn this into a fight, then I''d call my weapons.


    "Oh, it''s not blood magic," Maxwell continued, well aware I''d just reached for a weapon. "It''s a divine ritual, handed down to me by the God of Thieves himself."


    "Something tells me I''m still not gonna like this," I said, starting to pace around him in a circle, looking for a way out.


    "I assure you, you''ll enjoy what comes next," Maxwell said. "After all, I didn''t steal this reliquary for no reason." In his hand, he held a glass tube with iron caps at each end, one end having an eyelet for a chain to fit through. Inside the tube was a small, crudely-shaped clay figurine; a not-very-true-to-life sculpture of a woman.


    "Oh no," I whispered.


    "Once I''ve metaphorically stolen your hopes and dreams for the future, I can use the magical principle of Unequal Exchange to literally steal your lifespan," Maxwell added. "So, little Joseph, how much are you willing to give to get back your family''s legacy?"


    I called my weapon to my hand, along with my duster, which hung from my shoulders as though I''d never taken it off.


    "I''ll pay in blood, you son of a bitch."

 Book 1 Chapter 16

    A deafening bang rang out through the warehouse and punched a hole through Maxwell''s side, drawing a loud curse from him and a splatter of blood.


    I suppose it''s time I finally stop playing coy about what my weapon is.


    A long time ago, right after the Mountainhomes of the Dwarves were first invaded by the Hikaano Empire, the dwarves experimented with a novel form of non-magical weapon, consisting of an iron tube that was sealed at one end, with a charge of explosive powder and a heavy projectile inside it. The powder was lit, went boom, and the projectile, taking the path of least resistance, flew out the barrel at obscene speeds- faster than any ordinary arrow, and hitting hard enough to punch through the tall, thin stone walls that typified Hikaano fortifications of the time.


    Despite the dwarves now having a weapon that could break castles in the course of a few hours when scaled up, and slaughter an armored man in a single shot when scaled down, they still weren''t able to win; the weapon was still primitive, the supply lines weren''t mature or stable, and it simply could not be used enough to defeat the Hikaano Empire''s endless legions of heavy infantry.


    And so, the weapon was relegated to the dustbin of history- a curiosity, a sort of distant precursor to the steam-driven piston engine, and maybe a symbol of dwarven nationalism, although the hammer was a far, far more common symbol.


    Maybe, deep in the Mountainhomes, a hidden resistance group is cursing my name for having the same idea they did and not keeping it a secret until the dwarven people were ready to win their independence from the Hikaano. Or maybe they haven''t figured it out yet. But I had found a way to take these guns of centuries past and turn them into a viable weapon.


    Step one: replace the powder with a blasting hammer.


    Another bang echoed out, tearing through the side of Maxwell''s chest, just below the armpit, likely shattering ribs.


    Step two: find a way to load lead bullets into the firing chamber. Anything that was better than stuffing it down the barrel backwards with a ram-rod. For my part, I''d found a way to do it that let me just hold down the trigger and continuously fire bullets until the spatially-expanded magazine finally ran out of bullets- which would not be anytime soon.


    Step three...


    I lept backwards as Maxwell swung a glowing shortsword through where my midsection had previously been.


    "Fine!" Maxwell yelled as he charged me. "Fuck me for trying to play nice, then! I''ll just play dirty like I should''ve from the start!" He screamed as he caught a third bullet, this one through the stomach.


    ...put it in the hands of an Elven Mage-Knight.


    I shot once more, finally missing him and shattering a vase that was probably of goblin make, or in imitation of their style. I''d caught Maxwell by surprise with the first two shots, but that was over now, and the fact I hadn''t managed to shoot him in the head yet meant I was unlikely to manage that anytime soon.


    He duck and wove through the withering hail of bullets like an absolute champion, moving with a fluid, unnatural grace that even my father would be impressed by. Once he was within arm''s reach, I pulled my gun back, as he came up with his sword in hand...


    ...and was then blasted straight into the air with an overcharged force bolt, putting him into a predictable arc that let me nail him with two more bullets before he hit the ground- although I still couldn''t quite manage to hit that little pissweasel''s head. But, well... I''d put, what, five slugs of lead through his body by this point? There was no way he was in any shape to keep fighting-


    "YEARGH!" I screamed, as his blade rammed through my kidney, coming out the other side covered in blood and piss and everything in-between.


    "You think it''s gonna be that easy to take me down?" Maxwell whispered, as the illusory double disappeared. Didn''t know he could do that... "Bitch, please. Now, if you could just give up the fight like a good little knife-ear-"


    I was dead certain that Maxwell Tenpenny''s real body was, in fact, right behind me. I''d checked with mage sight, and I could feel his vital essence humming behind me, holding a magic sword.


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    So I channeled everything I had into the most hideously lethal spell I''d learned: Ariel''s Wrathful Lightning Bolt.


    Maxwell was thrown off his feet, as lightning traced a path down from his head down to his feet, ignoring every path of lesser resistance that didn''t involve human flesh. Smoke wafted off of him, his sweat flash-fried by the heat of the bolt.


    With a grunt of pain, I pulled the shortsword out and snapped it in half over my knee. Dad had given me a primal amulet that''d let me slowly regenerate from my wounds like a cave troll, and I could already feel it working on my kidney... but it was slow, and I''d likely only be back in top fighting shape after the fight was already over.


    Okay. So there''s a difference in combat effectiveness between John Courser the Thieves'' Guild apprentice and Maxwell Tenpenny the King of Thieves. Could''ve stood to learn that in a way that hurt less, but... what''s happened has happened. Time to deal with the present and the future.


    Maxwell grunted as he clambered to his feet, golden light washing over his wounds. Not for the first time, I found myself wishing that I had some kind of healing magic I could cast, but nope, I had to get stuck with a talent for the arcane, and a complete inability to connect to the primal. Not that I''d be able to heal myself right now- I had, after all, burned all my magicka on a killshot that hadn''t even disabled him.


    "You are... a real pain in the ass... aren''t you?" Maxwell said, breathing heavily as he produced a new weapon from somewhere on his person.


    "Even the King of Thieves is barely a match for the greenest of Knights," I said, leveling my gun at him once more. If magic wasn''t an option, then fine- I''d shoot his dumb ass to death and decorate my house with his corpse.


    Maxwell, for his part, went straight back to ducking and weaving, dodging the spray of bullets without issue. Note to self for the next version of this: develop a kind of ammunition that sprays even more so that it can''t be dodged by someone as nimble as the King of Thieves. A golden glow manifested in Maxwell''s hands, and I bolted for cover, but it was too late to hide from his wrath- a blast of holy fire erupted before me, flinging me back with its sheer force, and setting my hair and clothes alight in the process. I hurriedly put it out with a quick roll, but that gave Maxwell all the time he needed to cast another spell, this time a pillar of earth that shot up beneath me, kicking me in the ribs hard enough to launch me into the wall of the warehouse.


    I groaned as I slumped down, losing my grip on my gun. Fuck. Fuck. Everything hurt so fucking bad...


    "Well, now you''re cooperative," Maxwell muttered darkly, stalking towards me with heavy footfalls. "Let me explain how things are going to go now, boy." He lifted my chin with the tip of his sword. "You''re going to go in a dark closet with a succubus, and she is going to ruin your life. And once she''s done with you, I''m going to take what''s left, and live forever as the immortal King of Thieves. And you are going to die in the gutter, as nothing more than a footnote in my legacy."


    "Big words... little man..." I hacked out, before he kicked me in the stomach, driving the breath from me. Fuck, that hurt. But if I was gonna die here... at least I could make sure he couldn''t enjoy it.


    "You''re going into this closet," Maxwell said, repeating himself, as an invisible force picked me up and threw me through an open doorway. "And you''re not coming out until that succubus is done with you." He lifted the reliquary that was now back in his off hand, which began to glow with a sickly purple, and tossed it into the closet with me. "Have fun while you can, boy."


    The door slammed shut as the reliquary bounced off my chest, and rattled to the floor. From the end with the chain, purple smoke began to leak out, pooling and coalescing into the silhouette of a woman.


    The smoke began to solidify, until, at last, a beautiful woman in a downright indecent dress stood before me, looking me over with black eyes whose centers burned like candlelight.


    I closed my eyes and went limp, hoping that if I played dead, she''d lose interest. After all, she was a succubus- a demon, sure, but also a creature of occult magic.


    "Mother, please protect your wayward son," I prayed in my head. "Give him the strength to make this right."


    As with all my prayers, though¡­ this one went unanswered.


    She sighed wearily, and with the sharp clicks of a woman wearing hard-soled dress-shoes walking on tile, she came to kneel beside me, putting one hand on my wrist to check my pulse. I sighed, admitted defeat, and opened my eyes, to find her gaze meeting my own. All that was left now was... facing my doom with some level of grace.


    "...Not again," she said, rolling her eyes.


    Well. Wasn''t expecting that.

 Book 1 Chapter 17

    "Who... who are you?" I asked, catching my breath, before wincing.


    "Volex," she said. "You''ve likely heard the name before, but I promise, it''s pretty common among succubi. It''s like being a human named Jane, or an elf named Ariel. Hang on, are you dying?"


    "Not... actively," I said. "I''ve... got a regeneration charm." I grunted. "It''s helping, but... fuck, it''s slow. Can you... can you give me a minute to catch my breath?"


    "I''ve got something to say, so how''s about you just relax and listen for a minute, m''kay?" Volex said, quirking an eyebrow. "So, I am a succubus. The occult demon. A being of story and song, more purely than any bard could ever manage. And I... am fucking sick of this kind of story."


    "...Beg pardon?" I asked.


    "You and I both know this story," Volex said. "You want to be an Elven Mage-Knight, but here comes Volex, the vile temptress from the depths of Hell sent to corrupt you away from your ideals and steal your virginity, yadda yadda blah blah blah. It''s hackneyed, it''s boring, it has been done to fucking death. I have already witnessed the one interesting variation on this story, and we''re not exactly in a place to recreate it, unless you''ve got a busty girlfriend nearby?"


    "Funnily enough, I actually do," I said. "But, that''s through two locked doors and three armed men, and, uh... well. I don''t think I softened Tenpenny up that much."


    "Huh, wouldya look at that?" Volex said, tilting her head to the side. "But, whatever, she''s not here, so she can''t participate. The only way that story can go now is with you crying, and honestly? I just don''t feel like dealing with that today. So! How''s about we try a different story, huh? C''mon. You''re a smart boy, I''m sure. Tell me a story where I don''t have to be the monster."


    "Do I... strictly need to?" I asked. "I''m a bit of an occultist, I''ll admit, but I''m mostly a wizard, so... Not really that equipped to tell you a story. Besides, you clearly don''t want to rape me, so just... don''t?"


    "I''m a creature of stories," Volex said, shrugging. "I''ve got some agency, sure, but... Less so than you do. So... Again, tell me a story, here. Tell me a story where a demon of lust decides to help you against..." She frowned as she looked around at the closet. "...What even is going on, here?"


    "The King of Thieves is using us for a ritual to steal my immortal lifespan," I said. "First, though, he has to metaphorically steal my future, so... that''s where you come in."


    "Ahhh, so you''re not currently a Mage-Knight," Volex said. "I''m a little out of the loop, I gotta admit, but... I know Mage-Knights are pretty rare, these days."


    "Practically extinct," I admitted, pushing myself up with my left arm- my right was still sore and stiff, and had probably been broken entirely. "The Orders are all gone, and unicorns are only occasionally spotted out on the frontier, and only sometimes with riders. We don''t know if the wood elves have started being Mage-Knights too, or if they''re doing something else with the unicorns, or... Hell, maybe the wood elves aren''t doing anything with the unicorns. Maybe the unicorns are on their own. But... whatever a Mage-Knight is these days, my dad says I''m the closest thing we''ve got."


    "I see," Volex said, tapping her chin. "You done regenerating yet?"


    "Still a little sore, but..." I finished levering myself upright, and grunted. "I''ll live. Listen, if you don''t want to participate, I''ll just put you back in the reliquary, and... uh... find somewhere for you to go, I don''t know, but... I''ve got business to finish."


    I reached into my pocket, pulling out the cloth containing my motorcycle, and deployed it inside the (thankfully spacious enough) closet with us. I checked it over, and...


    "Oh son of a bitch, he somehow stole the fucking power crystal," I muttered. "Fuck. I don''t have the juice left to power this myself..."


    "Ah, so you ride a steel horse," Volex said. "I''ve seen a few of these, here and there. Well... What''s your name?"


    "Joseph," I said.


    "Well, Joseph, it seems to me that you are, in fact, a Mage-Knight," Volex said, tilting her head to the side. "In fact... Mmm, yes, I think I see how this is going to play out, now. Ooooh, I like this new story- all the better that it''s spontaneous. I''ll forgive you for not telling me the story yourself, this time."


    "What?" I asked, turning away from the empty space where the power crystal should be.


    "You, Joseph, are correct: you are every inch a Mage-Knight," Volex said simply. "You just don''t ride a unicorn, is all, because there aren''t any unicorns to ride. Instead, you''ve got a steel horse, the precision and power of a wizard... and now, you''ve got me."


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    "Beg pardon?" I asked.


    "A Mage-Knight''s mount doesn''t have to be a unicorn," Volex said. "It just has to be something intelligent, that can guide him with his chosen field of magic. And you''re not just a wizard, you''re an occultist, too."


    "I understand that a succubus can be something a man mounts and rides, but that''s usually a euphemism," I said dryly.


    "Very funny," Volex said, before gesturing at her reliquary. "You need a power source? There''s your power source. Stick that in your horse and ride it."


    "It''s not gonna be that simple," I said, even as I reached over and picked up the reliquary- I suppose she couldn''t touch it herself? "For one, this is an occult artifact, and the motorcycle is powered by arcane magic. Two, this is a reliquary, not a power crystal; it''s not meant to be tapped for power. Maybe if I was a properly trained occultist, I could still make this work, but..." I trailed off, turning my gaze back to Volex, in all her purple-skinned beauty. "...I''m starting to see what you''re getting at, here. You want to be my partner, teaching me the secrets of occult magic, and actually getting out into the world again, rather than being passed around like a toy for the rich and powerful."


    "Actually, I kinda like being treated like a toy," Volex said, her tail starting to swish behind her, a black arrowhead at its tip. "But... I think I''ve had enough of being passed around for a good, long while. So, yeah. I want to get back out there. And you''re the one who''s gonna take me. So. What do you say, partner?"


    "...What''re your terms?"


    "You''re the boss," she said, shrugging. "But I am going to need some compensation. I think an orgasm a week should be fair? Oh, plus one right now, to seal the deal."


    My breath hitched in my throat.


    "I know," Volex said. "You still want to ride a unicorn, someday. But Joseph... You''re an occultist city elf who''s never even ridden a horse. Some dreams are worth chasing, but... I think you''re getting a little too caught up in the details."


    "I-"


    "I know, I know- your father, and his father, and his father all rode unicorns into battle," Volex continued. "But none of them were wizards named Joseph, were they? The old stories are over, partner. But you and me, together? We are going to write a new story. A story about a modern Mage-Knight who rides a steel horse, wielding the arcane and occult rather than the primal and divine. And what you get in exchange for your dreams of riding a unicorn is a succubus who accepts payment in blowjobs." She smirked a little, revealing sharp, gleaming teeth. "I think you''ll get over it."


    "...If I may finish a sentence?" I said.


    "Go ahead," Volex said.


    "If it''s just an assisted orgasm you want, I can provide that," I said. "There''s... Let''s just say unicorns are specific about what ''virginity'' really means. And there are a lot of loopholes in that definition that could still let me pleasure, and be pleasured by, a woman. A lot of things that you would probably count as sex, but which a unicorn would not."


    "...So, even with the offer of a pet succubus, you''re still gonna try and weasel your way out of giving up the chance to ride a unicorn?"


    "What can I say, I''m an optimist. Don''t like it? Suck my dick."


    "Well, someone sure thinks he''s clever. Fine, I can work with this. But just so you know, now I have to keep tempting you with the one kind of sex you can''t have."


    "Yeah, well, so will my girlfriend once she learns about this. Join the fucking club."


    ---


    "So, what''s that?" Volex asked as I called my gun back to my hands.


    "...I''ll tell you the full story after we get out of here," I said, climbing astride my motorcycle. "For now? Back in the bottle, doll; I need all the juice I can get." I kicked the engine back to life, and revved it up something fierce, getting it nice and warmed up. I grinned. "Hit it."


    I burst through the closet''s door on my motorcycle, which now had a lot more power behind it, and grinned an ugly grin as I watched Maxwell bolting for cover, arms over his head.


    "Knock knock, asshole!" I yelled, before squeezing off another shot with my gun. One of the benefits of binding yourself to a magical creature was that you could, with the right techniques, borrow some of their magicka, which was why I could summon my gun back to me. Sure, the first shot I took missed, but I wasn''t too worried, now; Volex said it was an occult working, that''d keep me from doing any serious harm until the natural climax of our confrontation, and then I''d start hitting a lot harder and more accurately, bringing this in for a big finish.


    There was, of course, a reason why bards didn''t always do this: sometimes, they''d misjudge the situation, and end up getting killed before the story could reach its climax, because everyone who wasn''t an occultist was not bound by story logic.


    "You son of a bitch!" Maxwell yelled, hopping on an enchanted bike of his own. "This isn''t over!"


    "He''s getting away," Volex noted as Maxwell rode out of the room.


    "He''s already dead," I said. "He just doesn''t know it yet, and I''m taking the opportunity to make this sporting."


    "Oh?"


    "I''m giving him a head start," I said dryly, before gunning the throttle, and tearing after him, down the hall, out the loading dock, and into the cobblestone streets of Redwater. I had one hand on the handlebars, and in the other, my gun.


    He might be the King of Thieves... but what was a Thief to a Knight?

 Book 1 Chapter 18

    I took careful aim down the barrel of my gun, and squeezed off a quick burst of shots.


    The gun itself was very, very different from how the dwarves had designed theirs. They had taken a crossbow''s wooden shoulder-stock and simply replaced the prods of the bow with a big iron tube, whose trigger was just a lever that would touch a slow-burning match to a flash-pan full of powder on the side of the barrel, whose ignition would lead to the ignition of the main charge inside.


    What I had done was take the barrel, wrapped it in a shroud of carefully-bent sheet metal so I didn''t risk touching the hot barrel, and gave it a one-handed grip with a mechanical trigger that held back the internal spring-loaded blasting hammer, along with a grip for my other hand in the form of the detachable magazine, and a shoulder stock that had been made from thin strips of plate steel riveted together so they could pivot and fold up when not in use. It could be used easily in one hand, but also with two hands, and/or braced against my shoulder, for better accuracy and stability.


    I had also taken the liberty of installing a set of sights on the top of the barrel, so I could more easily line up accurate shots. I''d stop needing it once I got really good with this thing, but that''d take years, so it wasn''t exactly a waste of time to install them now.


    "C''mon, Maxwell," I called out after I stopped shooting. "Fight me like a man, don''t just run like a dog."


    It was a little depressing, just how accustomed people were to fighting in the streets. Everyone hurried inside, shuttered their windows, and generally tried to be anywhere that wasn''t ''near a running fight between a thief and a pissed-off elf with a gun.''


    For my part, I tried to make sure there wasn''t anyone alive in the path of my bullets, and so kept my aim low, gunning for Maxwell''s tires and feet. I didn''t have high hopes of hitting said tires and feet, not unless that would somehow make things interesting, but at least it made me feel like I was trying to accomplish something.


    "How stupid do you think I am?!" Maxwell yelled, darting down a tight alley I''d never fit my own bike into, earning himself a few seconds of respite as I had to ride all the way around the building. As much as I was faster than him on my bike, I had to admit he still had some kind of advantage, here. You didn''t become the King of Thieves by being a complete clown who had zero good options when a novice Mage-Knight tries to kill you. You needed at least three, including divine magic that he wasn''t skilled enough in spellcasting to use while riding an enchanted bicycle. A common problem, that, but hey, look who''d been trained from birth to ride with such ease that he could cast spells while riding.


    Not that I would cast such spells. Not now, anyway- I''m damn near out of magicka.


    "You don''t want me to answer that," I said, because hey, why not trash talk this guy? After all, if he realizes my position isn''t as secure as he thinks, then he might try something dangerous.


    The waterfront district was also sometimes known as the warehouse district, what with all the many, many warehouses that got built near the docks. And with the warehouses around came a lot of clutter on the streets, like empty crates repurposed as a street vendor''s stall, or an empty cart with a ramp down the back.


    And so when Maxwell deftly wove through a tightly-packed crowd, I simply shot the legs out from under one side of a cheap table and ramped over the crowd, trusting in my magic and also the pneumatic suspension of my bike to stick the landing. Sure, that vendor was probably upset about it, but I''d find him later and compensate him for his troubles.


    "What happens next, Maxwell?" I asked, as I pulled up alongside the King of Thieves. "Are you just going to ride around the city until one of us collapses from exhaustion, or I finally manage to shoot you? I know you''re not stupid enough to run from an elf in the forest."


    He threw a knife at me, and I slammed the brakes to dodge it, letting it whizz right past my nose.


    "Of course he''s got knives," I muttered, letting off on the brakes but still letting him lead me so I wasn''t in a convenient knife-throwing position. "A Thief always has knives."


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    "He''s got at least twenty three more throwing knives up his sleeves," Volex said.


    "Mother of fuck," I muttered. "And now he''s remembered he can throw those at me."


    He threw another knife at me, this time back over his shoulder, and I had to duck and weave to the side, and then again as he threw a third knife.


    "Twenty one knives."


    "You don''t have to keep count, darling."


    We left the warehouse district, moving into a more residential area, where the working poor and their families lived, sending their kids to school and working at either factories or the many shops dotting the streets. The next knife Maxwell threw, I actually caught, nicking my fingers a little in the process. But better me than the kids playing in the street behind me, who didn''t have anything to do with this.


    "People live here, you asshole!" I yelled out.


    "People live everywhere!" Maxwell yelled back, before throwing another knife and swerving down an alley between apartment buildings.


    I followed after him, and thankfully, he also didn''t want to try and fight in this neighborhood, because now we were heading back towards the river, this time into the Guild district, where the various Guilds were headquartered. Even the Thieves'' Guild, which you''d think would be hidden away, what with being an obvious and well-known criminal cartel and all, had a public headquarters here, because nobody could afford to offend the God of Thieves that much.


    Still, I could do my best to herd him away from the Thieves'' Guild headquarters- using my speed to get ahead of him, and in his way, before he could turn towards his home base, and just deal with the knives.


    "Out of my way!" Maxwell yelled, trying to get around me, and being blocked at every point.


    "No," I said, before leaning out of the way of his thrown knife, and leaning over to drive the one I''d caught into his thigh.


    He screamed, and turned the other way, heading away from the Thieves'' Guild building, but I was fully prepared to keep following him. Lucky him, he doesn''t need to pedal that thing; if he tried that with a knife in his leg, he''d be screaming even louder.


    He led me deeper and deeper into the Guild District, but strangely, he didn''t seem to be heading for the Thieves'' Guild anymore. There were too many other Guilds that he could be heading for instead, but I was pretty sure none of them would give him any more sanctuary than they had to; nobody liked the Thieves'' Guild, only tolerated them.


    Huh. That''s the Fighter''s Guild building. Why''s he turning here? I turned the corner a second after him, just in time to see him ride up on some poor Fighter and steal their sword right off their hip, and I came to a stop.


    Maxwell wheeled his own bike around, coming to a stop at the other end of the block, stolen sword in hand.


    "So, it''s come to this," I said.


    "It ends here," Maxwell said, snarling.


    I called a new weapon to my hand- not my gun, but a rope, with a slipped loop at one end. A lasso, as the cowboys on the frontier called it.


    Without another word, we both kicked ourselves into motion in an instant, him charging with a sword aiming for my neck, and myself with my lasso. I''d marked it for recall to my hand on a whim, later thinking it might be useful for climbing or setting a tripwire, but now, I was glad I had it, as I readied myself to throw it, occult insight flowing through my mind.


    Our paths crossed for the last time. I let go of the handlebars, leaning all the way back under his outstretched blade... but he wasn''t so lucky in dodging the rope.


    I grabbed the other end of the rope, and opened the throttle all the way, speeding up even more, until the rope went taut, and then loose again, with a horrendous tearing sound. I let the magic guide my next move, as I jerked my bike sideways into a sliding stop, then let go of the rope and lifted my hand, closing it once again in the hair of Maxwell Tenpenny''s messily-severed head.


    "Well, Max, looks like you will live forever," I said quietly, holding his dripping head in my hand. "In history books and dime novels alike, as the first man ever killed by Joseph Ironheart." I pulled out the enchanted bag Mom had given me specifically for his head, and  stored it away; I kept my promises, and I would not be leaving without his head for her to put on the mantel.


    I eyed the Fighter that Maxwell had robbed, and watched him decide just how badly he wanted to hassle me about this. Discretion, it seemed, was the better part of valor, and he scurried inside. Still, I did just murder a man in the streets in broad daylight, so... I''d better get the fuck outta here.

 Book 1 Chapter 19

    "Well, I''ll be damned," Dad said, as I put the enchanted jar atop the mantel, just off to the side of the mechanical clock I''d built from scratch last year. "The head of the King Of Thieves. I''ll admit, son, I didn''t think you had it in you." It was a further desecration of Maxwell''s corpse- adding insult to injury, by not only displaying his severed head like a hunting trophy, but also by wordlessly stating that his death was less of an accomplishment than making a fucking clock.


    "Oh, ye of little faith," I said.


    "I know, I know, it''s just... you''re eighteen, Joseph. In the old days, a Mage-Knight started his training at that age, and didn''t finish until he was fifty."


    "That was then," I said, stepping back to admire my handiwork. Maxwell Tenpenny had died screaming. I grinned a little. "This is now."


    "What your father means is that you''ve impressed him beyond words," Mom said. "And I am also proud of you, Joseph."


    "Thank you," I said, nodding to her.


    "Hey, weird question, but... was there a practical reason for taking that guy''s head?" Talia asked. "Or are we just being vindictive and ghoulish?"


    "A good cleric can bring someone back from the dead if they''ve got the whole body," Faith said. "Taking the head is a surefire way to prevent that, and make it hard for them to even identify who died."


    "Ahhh, gotcha, gotcha," Talia said.


    "By the way, Mom, I''m really sorry about this, but I''m gonna need another power crystal for my bike," I said. "The King of Thieves managed to steal the power crystal from my bike, and I had to jury-rig in another magic item."


    "Are you referring to moi?" Volex asked, emerging from her reliquary. "Because I assure you, Master... you''re gonna have to explain a lot more than that."


    "...You have a succubus?" Talia demanded.


    "That was the other thing Tenpenny had stolen from Brown''s office," I said. "She was originally supposed to rape me as part of a ritual that''d steal my lifespan and give it to the King of Thieves, but it turned out that a literal demon had a more functional moral compass than the King of Thieves, and she joined me in mutiny against Tenpenny."


    "...Oh," Talia said, in a very small voice.


    "Anyhow, where is... ah, there is. One moment, please." I walked over to the end table where my pre-battle spoils had gone, and picked up a bundle of enchanted dropcloth. "Napoleon, Frederick, I present to you..." I unfurled the cloth, depositing into the center of the den the funerary effigy of-


    "Is that Terpsichore Ironheart?" Volex asked, emerging from her reliquary.


    "Oh no," I whispered.


    "You two knew each other?" Talia asked.


    "Volex?" Frederick asked. "Is that you?"


    "In the flesh," Volex said, nodding. "Joseph, you should''ve told me you knew Terpsichore! We go way back. God, what a woman..."


    "I think I''m gonna be sick," I said.


    "What''s wrong?" Faith asked, frowning.


    "Oh, he''s just upset because he fucked me before he knew I fucked his grandpa," Volex said, waving dismissively.


    "You had sex?!" Talia demanded.


    "Not the salient point, here," I said.


    "Fuck the salient point, I want to get fucked!" Talia yelled.


    "Maybe don''t say that with your outside voice," Faith said.


    "Oh, please, we''ve all heard worse over weeknight dinners," Frederick said dismissively.


    "This is why I left the Rosewood Kingdom," someone said behind me, causing me to whip around to see-


    Ah. Fuck. Of course there''s consequences for killing a sitting Guildmaster.


    "For those of you who don''t recognize me, my name is Helen Rosewood," the Archmage of the Adventurer''s Guild said. She was an elfish woman with vibrant, rose-red hair, a well-tailored suit with cufflinks that glowed the distinctive arcane blue, and a pair of gold-rimmed, half-moon spectacles perched on the bridge of her nose. And she was the only woman in the world bold enough to position herself as a peer to the Hikaano Gods and powerful enough to survive doing that. "And you, Joseph Ironheart, have just earned yourself a place in the Adventurer''s Guild."


    ...Huh.


    "Is this, like, a punishment in disguise?" Talia asked.


    "How did you get into my house?" Dad demanded.


    "Of course not," Helen said, frowning, ignoring my father. "What''s he done wrong?"


    "I mean I did just decapitate a man in the streets in broad daylight," I remarked.


    "I asked what you''ve done wrong, Joseph," Helen said dryly. "I assure you, nobody is weeping for Maxwell Tenpenny. The Thieves'' Guild is going to tear itself apart fighting over who gets to be the next King of Thieves, but that''s as close as anyone will come to regretting his loss. Legally, what you did wasn''t even murder- at worst, it was littering, because you left the rest of his body laying in the streets. I took the liberty of collecting that for you, incidentally- he had a number of valuables on his person that you''re legally entitled to the right of first refusal on."


    "Please don''t pull that out right now, I do not want to mop blood off the floor," I pleaded


    "At any rate," Helen continued, "I''ve heard the Mage''s Guild was too shortsighted to take you, and considering your achievements so far? Their loss is my gain. So, Joseph, how would you like to join the Adventurer''s Guild and receive a peerless education, travel the world, meet interesting people, and then kill them and take their stuff?"


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    "...Well when you put it like that, that sounds awful, and your approval fills me with shame," I said. "I didn''t kill a man and take his stuff, I killed a man to take back my own stuff."


    "Hm? Oh, that statue of Terpsichore- I swear, that girl was a royal pain in my ass. Wasted her potential, she did."


    "I beg your pardon?" Frederick said, evenly.


    "She could''ve kept going, and cleared out even more demon cults," Helen said. "But instead, she decided she''d rather sleep on silks and ride that stupid knight''s little pony for the rest of her life."


    "You know humans actually age, right?" I said. "That''s why they have the concept of retirement."


    "If you''re healthy enough to have children, you''re healthy enough to keep adventuring."


    "Right, well, you''re incredibly annoying and I''ve lost all interest in working with you," I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Get out of my house, please and thank you."


    "Young man, you will keep a respectful tongue in your head when you address me," Helen said sternly.


    "Last I checked, I wasn''t your student, and you weren''t my mother," I said flatly, staring down the Archmage, against whom even my own mother didn''t-


    Ariel Silver coughed awkwardly.


    "Absolutely fucking not," Dad said, rounding on his wife. "Ariel, no. You did not use the fucking Archmage as a surrogate without me knowing."


    "It''s not that she''s his mother..." Mom began. "...she''s my mother."


    I blinked a few times. Okay, sure, Mom was a natural redhead who bleached her hair blonde- I figured she just had some royal blood in her that she wanted to hide for normal reasons.


    But Helen Rosewood was her mother?


    That was...


    What the fuck?


    "...Volex, do you know Helen too?" I asked. "Y''know, while you''re busy revealing you''ve shtupped my grandparents?"


    "Never met her before now," Volex said. "Hi, nice to meet you, I''m Volex, Joseph''s familiar and occultism mentor. Now, what kind of education does the Adventurer''s Guild provide?"


    "What the hell do you think you''re doing?" I asked, turning to face Volex.


    "Negotiating, now hush up and let me work," Volex said.


    "There''s not much negotiating to be done," Helen said. "I already employ world-class scholars to teach all of the classes he''ll go through, and if there''s any way to improve the quality, I''ll land on it before you can even blink."


    "Elaborate a little more on that, though," Volex said. "Really sell me on it."


    "Small class sizes, consistent office hours, and a well-stocked library," Helen said dryly. "In four years'' time, if he puts in the effort, Joseph could earn the title of Master of the Arcane Arts... or Occult Arts, if he so chooses to go down that route."


    "What about practical, hands-on experience?" Volex asked. "He''s a hands-on kind of guy, after all."


    "I wish he''d put his hands on me," Talia said.


    "If you refrain from saying anything else about how horny you are for the next hour, I will do to you what I did to Volex," I said wearily.


    "...Deal," Talia said.


    "There are frequent field trips throughout the school year to test your skills in real-world situations," Helen said. "They''re not all going to be ''beheading the King of Thieves in the streets,'' but I doubt he''ll lack for opportunities to prove himself in battle."


    "I''m not so sure about this," I said.


    "Oh, I''m sorry, did you think a Mage-Knight just rode around on a fancy mount all day and did nothing?" Helen asked. "You''re a Mage-Knight now, Joseph, and that means you''re going to fight. Or do you think sitting around porking a busty bard was the only thing Artorias did?"


    I simply closed my eyes, and sighed.


    "Honestly? You don''t have anything to offer me that I actually want," I said. "I have a tutor in the arcane, and in the occult-"


    "You should''ve told me you were an occultist," Mom said. "I would''ve understood."


    "-and I also have ten million dollars, which is more than enough to finance a trip to the Frontier so I can go unicorn-hunting. What else can you offer me, besides the promise that people are going to try to kill me at least once a year?"


    "Well, first and foremost, this is a group offer," Helen said. "You and your friends here constitute an adventuring party, and I''m offering an education to all of you at once."


    "Ooooh," Talia said.


    "But aside from that... I can offer you power," Helen said simply. "Power to rewrite laws, redraw maps, to grasp the very Book of Truth in your hands and write the next chapter of our world''s history in the blood of your enemies. You want to really bring back the Mage-Knights, Joseph? You''re welcome to try, but without the connections and skills and experiences and resources that you can only attain through attending the University of Mount Fate, you''re more likely to end up dead beneath a paladin''s boot, a martyr for whatever rebellion manages to actually succeed. You want to bring back the Mage-Knights and live to see what comes next? Then come with me. Pack your bags, say your goodbyes, and bring your nascent adventuring party with you to Mount Fate before the Autumnal Equinox. I''ll keep a dorm ready for you."


    "...This is a big decision," I said quietly. "I don''t..."


    Helen produced from thin air a thick packet of papers. "Here''s the orientation packet. Give that a read, and whatever answer you have for me... I''ll know it when you turn up at Mount Fate this September." She handed out additional packets to Talia and Faith.


    She handed me the packet, and then... softened. She was the first fullblooded elf I''d ever met who looked even the slightest hint old, with wrinkles at her eyes and mouth from the perpetual glare and scowl she seemed to wear.


    "Guild business aside, Joseph..." Helen said softly. "It is good to meet you at last." Her face returned to normal, as she turned to face the woman who refused to be called her daughter. "Ariel, why am I only now meeting my grandson?"


    "My last name is Silver," Ariel said flatly. "For the benefit of the human in the room, I''ll remind everyone that it means I have abandoned my previous family."


    "Are you still mad about Jason?" Helen asked.


    "I want you to guess," Ariel said.


    "Grandma, I hate to be rude, but I think maybe you should go," I said. "You''ve got eternity to figure out how to make it up to Mom."


    "Very well," Helen said, straightening her tie. "I''ll be off then. Take care."


    With a snap of her fingers, she disappeared in a pulse of blue light, leaving us alone in the den... well. "Alone" was a relative term, considering how many other people were here, nearly half of whom didn''t live here.


    "...So who''s Jason?" I asked mildly.


    "Yes, who is Jason?" Dad asked.


    "I don''t want to talk about it," Mom said, shaking her head. "He''s a dead man, and the reason I reject my mother; that''s all you need to know."


    "...Well, I guess we''re joining the Adventurer''s Guild, now?" Faith said, trying valiantly to change the subject. "That''ll be interesting."


    "That''s one word for it," I said. "Right, well... I should probably start fixing my bike. Got it banged up pretty good out there, and it''s gonna need some love taps with a machinist''s hammer to get back in order. Talia, Faith, you two should... probably tell your parents about the whole Adventurer''s Guild thing?"


    "Probably, yeah," Talia said, nodding. "I''ll be back tonight, though. We had a deal."


    "That we do," I said. "That we do."

 Book 1 Chapter 20

    "Well, you two look happy," Faith said, the next morning. "I take it someone''s no longer a virgin?"


    "Technically, I still am, and ''technically'' is all I care about," I said, picking up the second half of my sandwich. The sandwich was the greatest of culinary creations, having been independently reinvented by dozens of different cultures around the world; there were many like it, but this one was mine. And it had a really good tomato slice on it, to brighten up the sausage patty and fried egg. "The technicalities present some loopholes."


    "I''m not even mad about the month he spent knowing about the loophole and not sticking his tongue through it," Talia said. "That''s how pent-up I was before last night."


    "Also, he asked me to turn into Talia back in the warehouse," Volex added. "Which Talia here thought was romantic."


    "Honestly, it wasn''t even that," I said. "I''ve just got a type, and Talia happens to be a prime example of it."


    "Hey, I think it''s sweet that my boyfriend looked at a succubus who could turn into the sexiest woman he could possibly imagine, and just asked her to turn into me," Talia said, leaning her head against my shoulder. "Also. Faith. When''s it gonna be your turn?"


    Faith smirked, and chuckled once, just a quick lift of her chin. "Depends. When will you give me one?"


    "...I''ll have to get back to you on that," Talia said, frowning. "He still doesn''t like you all that m-"


    "I don''t mean a turn with him, I mean a turn with you," Faith said, putting a hand on Talia''s shoulder.


    "...Ohhhhh, I see."


    "Joseph might look like a butch lesbian to me-"


    "Hey!" I protested.


    "-but that delusion would probably be pretty hard to hold onto with his dick in my mouth."


    "Okay, can we please talk about something else?" I said. "Yes, Faith, I''m fine with you fucking my girlfriend if she''s fine with it too. The issue is settled, we are moving on. What do you two think about joining the Adventurer''s Guild?"


    "It''s hitting the same notes that made me want to join the Paladin''s Guild," Faith said. "Plus, just because I joined the Guild straight out of high school doesn''t mean I don''t want an education. I just figured it''d take longer to get one."


    "Personally, I just wanna get out there, meet more druids, and learn from people who aren''t my Mom and his dad," Talia said. "I also wanna follow you guys around, so whatever we decide..."


    "Personally," Volex said, emerging from her reliquary in the space of a second, "I think you should go for it. A university education is a valuable thing, even if you are the child of two grandmasters who you think can teach you everything you want to know. Exposing yourself to more perspectives and expanding your horizons is always a good thing, and while, yes, you can just go to a regular university... Trust me on this: the University of Mount Fate is very much worth the effort. Besides, it''s where Terpsichore went."


    "Alright, alright," I said, sighing. "I''ll take that under advisement, but bear in mind I''m willing to accept a median university education in exchange for not getting shot at, so..."


    "Oh, that''s going to happen to you no matter what," Volex said. "You''re not just a Mage-Knight in a society that hates elves, you''re the Mage-Knight who proved that humanity isn''t safe just because the unicorn glades are gone. People are going to try to kill you for that alone. But at Mount Fate, well. There, that sort of thing is an expected problem for students to have, and the faculty can be expected to actually do something about it."


    I reached into my pocket, pulling out her reliquary, and twisted the cap, sucking Volex back inside. I didn''t feel great about having a fully sapient person on a leash that I could, whenever I wanted, put in a cage, but I wasn''t enough of an occultist to meaningfully do anything about this, and...


    ...well. I''m not going to learn occultism from my mom. She legitimately doesn''t know anything about the practice; not once in her centuries did she so much as dabble.


    "I will get to it when I get to it," I said, before putting the glass tube away. "Ugh. I know Mount Fate is a thousand miles away, but like... it is a direct rail connection from here to there. All we have to do is get a train ticket a week before the equinox and ride the train for a few days. We have four months to mull this over."


    "Would you accept a change of subject?" Faith asked.


    "Yeah, sure, what''s up?" I asked.


    "Talia, do you have opinions about Volex?" Faith asked, and I groaned.


    "Hey, if I get to have a paladin girlfriend, he gets to have a succubus girlfriend," Talia said, shrugging. "It''s only fair. Unless I start fucking Volex too, in which case either he has to start fucking you, or he just gets another shot at finding another girlfriend who''s only interested in him."


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    Someone knocked on the front door, and I hastily finished off the rest of my sandwich as I stood up. "I''ll get it." I would take any excuse to escape this conversation quicker. And after a quick hustle, I opened the door to find an unfamiliar elf man standing there in a tuxedo. He''d either be an out-of-towner, or from the Ducal Palace.


    "Is this the residence of Mister Joseph Ironheart?" the butler-looking man said diffidently. Probably the Palace, then.


    "It would be," I said calmly. "To what do I owe the visit, cousin?"


    "Duchess Melody Redwater humbly requests your presence at Redwater Palace today, for a private audience," the butler said, producing from within his waistcoat a folded sheet of parchment sealed with red wax, into which was embossed the seal of House Redwater, which had ruled this Duchy ever since the War Of The Roses. "Is there a message that Sir would like me to convey to Her Grace?"


    "...I''ll be there, but I''m not making any promises," I said. "Have you eaten breakfast, cousin?"


    "I have, but thank you very much for the offer," he said. "I''m afraid I can''t stay long, sir- this is but one of my many duties today. By your leave?"


    "Don''t let me hold you up," I said, and he nodded and walked off. I closed the door, parchment in hand, and sighed. "It''s just one damn thing after another, isn''t it?"


    "You want me to kill them for you?" Talia asked.


    "Tempting, but not yet."


    ---


    Duchess Melody Redwater was much as I remembered her: obnoxiously hot, and dressed in what constituted relaxed casualwear for an aristocrat of her station. However, seated next to her on the couch was a girl somewhere between the ages of 15 and 21, who could not possibly be anything but Melody''s own daughter.


    The young black girl had a bob of bright pink hair, whose tight curls kept it close to her head and out of her way, and wore the traditional white robes and silly hat of the Healer''s Guild, with a staff that marked her as a freshly-fledged Healer- not a novice or apprentice, but a proper Healer in her own right. Considering that this was a distinction that typically took eight to twelve years to earn, for someone who joined the Healer''s Guild fresh out of high school or university, I was more than a little impressed by the fact she''d managed that while being so young and fresh-faced.


    She was also, much like her mother, unreasonably stacked, with her healer''s robes having clearly been custom-fitted to accentuate the fact. A little weird, since those robes were sacramental to her Guild, but hardly the most blasphemous thing an aristocrat had done to keep up appearances.


    "So, Mister Ironheart," Duchess Melody said, once I''d seated myself on the couch opposite theirs. The letter had been quite clear: it was a private audience, for myself and myself alone, and so Faith and Talia had been made to wait outside, despite their bizarre insistence on following me everywhere like person-shaped ducklings. "I''ve been told by no less than Archmage Helen herself that you''ve been invited to join the Adventurer''s Guild."


    "I have," I said, nodding. "I''m considering it, but..."


    "Well, perhaps this can sway your considerations," Melody said, reaching into her generous cleavage to withdraw a roll of parchment.


    "Okay, before you tell me what is on the parchment, I simply have to ask," I interrupted. "Do you have a Bag of Holding in your cleavage? And if so, could you please tell me how it''s arranged? My girlfriend asked me for something like that, and I''ve been trying to figure out how to make it work for nearly a month now."


    Duchess Melody flushed a little, but mustered her composure quickly. "I- yes, well, I do in fact have such a contrivance. It is... Perhaps after we''re done here, you can follow me to my chambers, and I will show you my spare."


    "That would be lovely," I said, nodding. "Apologies for the interruption- please, continue."


    "Upon this parchment is a writ of knighthood with your name on it, Mr. Ironheart," Melody said, popping the wax seal and revealing precisely that. "All it needs is your signature, and you will be officially recognized as a Knight by the law."


    "...And you have a task in mind for a Knight of your house," I said quietly.


    "Allow me to introduce to you my daughter, Lady Emily Redwater," Melody said, gesturing to the pink-haired girl beside her. "She joined the Healer''s Guild when she was only twelve years old, and has already earned her staff as a fully-qualified Healer at the age of eighteen. And she has decided to join the Adventurer''s Guild."


    "...Hi," Emily squeaked out, waving very gently, and failing to meet my gaze.


    "Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to escort her to Mount Fate, and guarantee her safety during her education there," Melody continued.


    "Are you... certain you want to join the Adventurer''s Guild?" I asked. "I mean no offense, but there has to be something deeply wrong with you to fit in with the Adventurer''s Guild. I earned that invitation by killing a man in the streets in an unusually gruesome way. Lady Emily, however... Well, nobody who makes full Healer before they''re 20 is unexceptional, but I think whatever''s wrong with her is incompatible with the sort of mental illness needed to be a good Adventurer."


    "I... I''m certain," Emily said, nodding vigorously, her hair bouncing a little as she did so. "It''s... This is important, to me. More important than anything ever has been in my entire life."


    I nodded slowly, and then sighed.


    "...Well. I suppose, if I''m going to have this many people badgering me into going to Mount Fate... then fine. I''m going to Mount Fate. I''ll sign the Writ of Knighthood, and make sure Emily gets to Mount Fate safely. The price of a fourth train ticket is hardly going to be prohibitive."


    "The train?" Melody demanded. "Absolutely not, young man. Trains get assailed by bandits all the time, and I will not make my daughter a sitting duck on one of those rattlebox deathtraps."


    "So, what, you want her to walk there?"


    "You are a machinist, Mister Ironheart, and if the stories of yesterday''s escapades are any indication, you have a knack for constructing vehicles. So... construct a new vehicle which can convey my daughter to Mount Fate quickly, comfortably, and safely."


    "...Fine, but you''re paying for it."


    Duchess Melody reached into her cleavage, drawing forth a bundle of paper bills. "Will ten thousand dollars suffice?"


    "...It''ll do," I said, accepting the stack of bills from her. "Well, ma''am, a pleasure doing business with you. I''ll get back to you with my vehicle once it''s complete."


    "Very good. Now, if you will follow me? I did promise a demonstration..."


    "Ah, of course. Goodbye, Emily."


    "Goodbye, Joseph."

 Book 2: The Highway To Hell, Chapter 1

    "There," I said, after tightening the last screw. "It should be working again now, Amelie."


    "Ah, thank you, Joseph," Amelie said, slowly planting her hands on her walker before levering herself upright. She took a small, halting, shuffling step forward, and let the walker roll forward, before nodding. "Yes, that''s much better now."


    "It''s a little funny," I said, standing up and putting away my screwdriver. "I keep ending up having to replace wheel bearings in people''s mobility devices. Manufacturers these days just cannot do it right, can they?"


    "They don''t make them like they used to," Amelie said, shaking her head. "Well! While you''re here, would you mind helping me cook something?"


    "Sure thing," I said, nodding. "I like to think I know my way around a kitchen. Glad my uncle was around to teach me, honestly- neither of my parents are actually good at it."


    "My condolences, Joseph," Amelie said, slowly shuffling from her chair to the apartment''s kitchen.


    Amelie and Robert now lived in Greenwood Village, in an apartment that was larger and nicer than Robert''s old one- this one had actual bedrooms in it. Additionally, the apartment had been re-furnished by one of Antiope''s daughters, an experienced carpenter and designer who''d done a lot of work on furniture that folded, was multi-purpose, or was otherwise uniquely suited to being maximally useful in the small floorspace of an apartment.


    And right now, I was fetching the eggbeater and some mixing bowls from inside a rolling cabinet that also served as a mobile countertop and which could be lowered to function as a dining table. Jenny Jones was a very clever woman, and collaborating with her on my current project was one of the most gratifying things I''d ever experienced.


    "Now, the thing about desserts is that they seem more impressive than normal dishes that take the same amount of effort," Amelie explained, while I got out ingredients from her refrigerator. "If you''re looking to impress someone, a fancy dessert will work better than a fancy dinner. And chocolate mousse was one of my favorite go-tos, because of just how easy it really is to make."


    "Considering it only has four ingredients, I suppose I can buy that," I said, looking at the ingredients in front of me: a pair of eggs, a small bar of dark chocolate, the pot of granulated sugar, and a bottle of cream. "So, how''re you holding up after the surgery?"


    "Much better," Amelie said, nodding. "You know how to separate eggs, don''t you? Good. Yes, I''m doing much better after your father helped me. It makes me feel like a damn fool for not going to him from the start, but..." Amelie sighed. "...Well. No matter. I doubt you want to hear about centuries-old elf drama."


    "Amelie," I said seriously, "I fucking love centuries-old elf drama. I know you''re thinking that you don''t want to paint my father in an unflattering light, but I don''t care. I want to hear about the times before the war, and the disagreements between you and my father that led you to distrust his willingness to help." I blinked. "...Well, provided you''re willing, anyways."


    Amelie sighed. "It''s... Well. Your father was a famous Mage-Knight, who fought to the bitter end. And I was... not. I was a servant of House Rosewood, one of the many people tasked with maintaining the household for our royal family."


    "Apparently I''m a Rosewood myself," I said idly as I got some sugar melting in a saucepan.


    "You''re what?" Amelie asked, eyes going wide.


    "Long story, I''ll tell you later," I said. "Still your turn. Elaborate?"


    "...Well, I was..." Amelie sighed. "I was worried your father would hate me, for surrendering, and ending up working for a human noble house. That he''d turn me away, or..."


    "I understand," I said quietly. "It''s... The war wasn''t good for anyone, as I understand it. Even now, we''re still bleeding. But... We can''t afford to be fighting each other over this. Even if my father says otherwise, I will honor my commitment to help you, if you need it again in the future."


    "You really are a Rosewood," Amelie murmured.


    "An Ironheart," I said, shaking my head. "At any rate, Amelie, do you have any stories to tell that aren''t about the war? Perhaps someone who was especially impressed by your mousse?"


    "Oh, well, that would be Lady Emily," Amelie said. "Such a sweet young thing. She''s Duke Sebastian Redwater''s fifth child, and at only eighteen years old, she''s already a fully-fledged Healer. And she has one hell of a sweet tooth. Oh, how my heart aches to remember when I had to leave the Palace for convalescence. She was heartbroken to realize she couldn''t heal me herself. If only I could see her now..."


    "Well, as it so happens," I said mildly, "I''m acquainted with her myself, and I''ve been knighted by Duchess Melody as Emily''s sworn protector. I reckon that it''d be pretty simple to arrange for you to see her again sometime this week, if you feel up to it?"


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    "Oh, child, thank you, but-" Amelie paused. "...Hrm. First the fact you''re a Rosewood, then the fact you''re my hearth-daughter''s sworn protector? You just love dumping shocking revelations on people."


    "I have had carnal knowledge of Duchess Melody," I said dryly. She''d demonstrated rather a lot more than just how she kept a bag of holding in her cleavage, that day. I wasn''t surprised she had a thing for elves, chasers were something I was quite familiar with, but with tits like hers, I''d let her chase me right down her rabbit ho- nope, nope, that''s too much, abort, abort.


    Amelie closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, and I continued working on the mousse as she sighed very loudly.


    "No, I don''t want Emily to see me like this," Amelie said, after a pause. "But... If you could tell her I''m getting better, and that I miss her..."


    "I can," I said, nodding. "Although I do have to point out that, as a fully-trained Healer, Emily Redwater should be perfectly capable of handling the sight of someone who is in poor health. The fact that you''re actively getting better should also help."


    Amelie sighed, closing her eyes again. "I understand, I just... I''m her hearth-mother, Joseph. I don''t... I don''t want to upset the poor girl."


    "It''s your choice," I said. "And don''t worry, I will convey your message to her. She''ll know you''re doing well."


    "Thank you," Amelie said. "Now, the mousse- it makes four portions. Robert and I will each have one with dinner tonight, and you get one as thanks for all your help, but-"


    "You''d like me to bring the last one to Emily," I supplied.


    "Yes, if that''s not too much of a bother?"


    "Not at all," I said. "I''m sure she''d love that. Plus, it''d help convince her that you are doing better."


    ---


    After the mousse was whipped up, it was portioned out into a set of four short drinking glasses- nothing fancy, nothing that''d grace the table of a duke, but still decent-quality glass that was clear enough to read a book through, if it weren''t for the fact there was now chocolate mousse in the way. After being portioned out with the help of magic to avoid spills or waste, and ensure a smooth top, I put the glasses back into the refrigerator along with the rest of the cream.


    At that point, Robert returned, and accepted a hug from both myself and his mother with grace and good humor.


    "Would you like to stay and have another cooking lesson?" Amelie asked.


    "I would, but unfortunately I''ve gotta get going," I said, apologetically. "Maybe next time."


    I took my leave, returning home, and making a beeline for my garage workshop.


    "Oh, there you are," Jenny Jones said, poking her head out the back of my latest creation. "Come on in and take a look. It''s all done."


    She pulled her head back inside, and I hustled over, up the ramp and through the door.


    As Emily Redwater''s sworn guardian, my first task was to safely transport her across a thousand miles of countryside from the city of Redwater to Mount Fate, without just taking the goddamn train like a normal person. Walking was out of the question, because even at the most optimistic estimate of three miles an hour and ten hours of walking per day, it would take an entire month to reach Mount Fate, and also, none of us wanted to walk a thousand miles across the countryside.


    Now, there were other alternatives. My own mother, the great wizard Ariel Silver, could have just teleported us from Redwater to Mount Fate for a nominal fee. My own father, the great druid Napoleon Ironheart, could''ve turned into a pseudodragon and carried us to Mount Fate on his back. A few friendly acquaintances of mine from school were dwarves with family members who happened to work in a carriage shop, and could have helped me find a good deal on a high-quality charter carriage.


    What I did instead was rely on my own skills, gained from years of machine shop and engineering classes (which was what endeared me to most of those dwarves, even if I did see them in Math and Language Arts and History too), to construct my own caravan from steel. On the outside, it was somewhat compact, measuring about two meters wide and four meters long, but on the inside...


    Well, I wasn''t just a machinist. I was a wizard, too, and creating spaces that were bigger on the inside was something my mother had drilled into me from an early stage in my training. Pocket dimensions were just so goddamn useful, and people would consistently pay good money for them- a wizard who knew how to make them would never go hungry.


    And so in the back of the caravan, behind the cab, a space that had been a two meter cube had been enlarged to the size of a whole house. Just not a huge house- while I had managed a spatial expansion ratio slightly higher than 3:1 on the van, the end result was still only a 20 foot cube. (I never did understand why so many people had trouble converting between Dwarven and Hikaano units- a foot is thirty centimeters, and ten feet is three meters. It''s really not that complicated.) Dividing that into two stories with ceilings about nine feet high, and allowing for hallways, closets, et cetera, I was able to fit in four bedrooms that were about eight feet square. Which was a bit on the small side, and therefore, why I''d been especially interested in Jenny Jones'' work.


    Jenny herself was one of the few half-elves who''d inherited the pointy ears from her mother, and from her father, she''d inherited skin like burnished bronze and hair like cloudy midnight, along with flatter, more rounded facial features than was ordinary for elves. She was wearing her shop coveralls, but had unzipped them and peeled the garment to her waist, exposing the plain, unremarkable white undershirt she wore under it, along with the thick cords of muscle undergirding her arms, shoulders, and back.


    "So, as you can see," Jenny began, as she showed me around.


    At the end of the tour, I was more than happy with the results, and happily handed over the other half of her payment- she''d been paid a full four thousand dollars for this job, and she was worth every penny.


    And tomorrow, I''d have to convince Duchess Redwater to also be happy with this.

 Book 2 Chapter 2

    Jenny and her shop worked fast, and four days later, I was driving the caravan up to Redwater Palace to show it off to Duchess Melody and Lady Emily.


    "So, this is what you''ve built?" Melody asked, looking over the enameled sheet steel exterior of the van- as Uncle Frederic called it, because he loved making up new words. "I suppose it must be an enchanted caravan, but... It looks so unlike any caravan I''ve ever seen. Why is the front of it sloped like that?"


    "So that it''s less affected by air resistance," I said. "When you get going fast enough, air resistance becomes much more noticeable- if you''ve ever ridden a horse, or some other fast, un-covered transportation, you''ll notice that the wind blows your hair back away from the direction of travel. Now imagine that, instead of just blowing back your hair, the air is blowing back a sail the size of the front of your caravan."


    "I see..."


    "Also, I happen to think it looks nicer this way, but the functionality is key, here," I added. "Anyhow! While the exterior is something I worked hard on, I''m here to show you the interior, so that you, Lady Emily, can give me your feedback on the layout."


    Emily nodded wordlessly, standing just a touch behind her mother.


    "Anyhow. Where''s Duke Redwater?" I asked.


    "Sebastian is currently away on business," Melody explained. "He often speaks of how, in his words, ''the luxuries of this station are effeminating,'' and if he were here, he would regard every measure you took to be considerate of his daughter''s comfort to be an insult to her constitution and ability to withstand hardship."


    "...Alright then," I said diplomatically. Sure, I could just say he sounded like a tremendous dickhead, and if Melody and I were alone she might even agree with me- women who liked their husbands generally did not cheat on them with an elf- but Emily was also here, and I had no idea how receptive she would be to me badmouthing her father. "Well, with the understanding that I intend no insult with my compassion and consideration, let us begin the tour."


    I grabbed a metal latch just below the back doors of the van, and pulled on it, extending out a thin yet sturdy ramp of rigidly-corrugated sheet steel. The step up into the back wasn''t that bad, but I figured I might as well make it easier on people who weren''t as nimble as an elven mage-knight. With the ramp deployed, I then pulled open the back doors, revealing the spatially-expanded interior of my van.


    "Oh, my," Melody murmured. "Now that really is something..."


    "It turns out that portable houses, usually but not always in the form of enchanted caravans, are very common among adventurers," I said. "This one in particular is unusual only in that it is made of metal rather than wood. And, as it so happens, the University of Mount Fate''s orientation packet even mentions that there are extensive accommodations for students who choose to live out of a portable house rather than the dormitories."


    "Fascinating," Melody said, nodding as she followed me inside, Emily trailing after her.


    "Anyhow, most of the downstairs is a mostly-open common area," I continued. "Kitchen, dining table, some couches and armchairs around a low table for socializing or entertaining guests, et cetera. In the back is a compact machine shop where I can fabricate replacement parts as needed, in the event of a breakdown in the field. However, the bedrooms are where things get particularly interesting- if you''ll follow me upstairs?"


    Without waiting for an answer, I made my way up the spiral staircase to the second floor, being followed up by the Redwater women I was going to be stuck with for the foreseeable future.


    "Now, there''s four of us going to Mount Fate, and thus four bedrooms," I said, taking a few steps down the hallway. "Everyone gets their own personal, private space, even if that space isn''t quite as spacious as I''d like. The bedrooms are all more-or-less identical, differing only in where the doors are, so we''ll use this one for demonstration purposes, shall we?" The bedroom doors opened inward, to avoid anyone walking into an unexpectedly opening door first thing in the morning. I stepped inside the bedroom, and immediately headed to the far corner because, as I was realizing, a bedroom that was on the small side of comfortable for one person was not going to do well with three people, two of whom were quite voluptuous and one of whom was broad-shouldered.


    "It looks rather austere," Melody remarked. "I suppose Sebastian would be happy you aren''t letting Emily go soft."


    I very carefully did not make a comment about Emily''s plush figure, not only because Melody would probably try to kill me, but also because I barely knew Emily and that''s just not the sort of joke you made about someone you didn''t already know would be okay with you saying that they had nice tits.


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    "Oh?" I prompted, gesturing for her to elaborate.


    "It looks empty," Melody continued, looking around the room that currently did not have any of its fold-up furniture deployed, aside from a wood-and-brass travel trunk perched on legs made of steel pipe, which could be made to retract into the trunk itself (which also had wheels on one of the bottom edges) for moving it somewhere else and re-deploying it.


    "All of the furniture is compact and foldable, to make the most of a small space," I explained. "The design and fabrication were done by a workshop in Greenwood Village run by a two hundred year old carpenter by the name of Jenny Jones, who is, incidentally, the current employer and mentor of one Robert Thorn."


    "You know Robert?" Emily asked, blinking.


    "Mhm," I said, nodding. "I met him while I was looking into the theft of my grandmother''s funerary effigy, and did my best to help him out. He''s got an apartment in Greenwood Village that has actual bedrooms now, and his mother Amelie is currently recovering from surgery- we''re reasonably confident the cancer didn''t metastasize, but she''s going to want to come back to Greenwood to see Napoleon Ironheart once a month for the next decade or so just to be sure."


    "I''m glad she''s okay," Emily said quietly. "Can... Is she seeing visitors?"


    "Well, I did tell her that I''d made your acquaintance, and could bring you down to see her if she wanted, but she said she didn''t want you to see her in that state, because it''d worry you a lot," I said. "I disagree with her assessment, because you''re a Healer- if you aren''t yet used to seeing people who are in poor health, you will be soon enough."


    "I''m a trauma surgeon," Emily said. "I... I deal with things like stab wounds or broken bones, not... Not cancer."


    "...Point," I said. "Well, while Amelie does need to regain a lot of weight, and can''t walk unassisted, we''re fairly confident that, with the help of a good druid, she''ll be back to full health soon enough. Anyhow, we''re getting off-track- this was supposed to be a tour of your new bedroom. First and foremost, the bed."


    I grabbed what looked like the handle of a cabinet, and upon pulling it, revealed it to actually be a bed that had been folded up against the wall. The mattress was fairly large, and had been enchanted by yours truly for longevity and comfort- it was a more complex enchantment than I could''ve put together on my own, with a lot of different factors to consider, but that was the cool thing about having a mentor who was very, very good at this. This enchantment was the one I''d put on my own mattress several years ago, when I''d decided I wanted a bigger bed.


    "And why precisely have you given my daughter a bed big enough for two?" Melody asked archly.


    "All the rooms are identical, and I knew I wanted a larger bed because if I was sleeping in a smaller bed, my girlfriend would simply sleep on top of me," I said dryly. "There are many benefits to a curvy girlfiend, but one of the downsides is that they are not exactly lightweight."


    Emily blushed, fully aware that she was also quite curvy and weighed more than a scarecrow.


    "Anyhow," I continued, before folding the bed back up into the wall. "Also in each room is an enchanted trunk for storing all sorts of belongings, including clothing, tools, books, et cetera, along with a folding table and a set of four folding chairs. And Emily, if you happen to already have an enchanted trunk that you like better than this one, you are of course free to bring it with you and replace this one; I''m sure I can find a good home for it."


    "How much space is inside that one?" Melody asked.


    "Almost thirty times as much as there should be," I said. "The spatial expansion was split into nine separate, overlapping pocket dimensions- you just pick which one you want when you''re opening it, and that''s the one that appears under the lid. Each pocket dimension is a bit bigger than the inside of the trunk should be, but only by about half again in each dimension- I wanted this to be a useful storage chest, not a second, less-convenient bedroom. Still, it amounts to a factor-of-three enlargement, so..."


    Now, as it so happened, I knew rather a lot about the market for pocket dimensions and spatially-expanded storage. A trunk like this one was pretty high-end, with a low-end one being equivalent to just one of the nine separate compartments in this. However, House Redwater was a Ducal House, and had absolutely obscene amounts of money. For all I knew, Emily had a trunk whose interior was the size of a house.


    "Could... You could do that?" Emily asked.


    "Well... Probably?" I hazarded. "I am fairly good with pocket dimensions, but the issue at hand is thusly: that would be a serious undertaking, and I don''t have a practical use for that." I tapped my chin. "...Of course, now that it''s occurred to me that I possibly can do this, now I want to do this. Hrm. Well, I can do that after we get you to Mount Fate. I''d like to leave early, because supposedly there are classes they run during the summer that aren''t as demanding as those of the main academic year, and some of them caught my eye, but-"


    "Leaving soon works for me," Emily said, nodding. "When can we leave?"


    "Hrm..." I chewed on this for a bit. "...Well, we need to do some last-minute packing, make sure we aren''t forgetting anything, say our goodbyes, et cetera... Let''s say, a week from today. And tomorrow, I''ll come by at noon to introduce you to the rest of the party. How''s that sound?"


    "I, um... I''m not sure what to bring," Emily admitted.


    "...I will also offer constructive criticism on your packing," I said dryly.


    "That all sounds agreeable to me," Melody said.


    "Then it''s settled," I said. "See you two tomorrow."

 Book 2 Chapter 3

    "God damn you''ve got some tits," Talia said.


    "Please stop being a freak to someone you''ve just met," I said wearily.


    "Nah, it''s different between girls," Talia insisted, approaching an already-blushing Emily. "Because I''ve got big tits too, so this is more a declaration of solidarity and sisterhood. See?"


    Talia punctuated that by pulling Emily into a one-armed hug wherein Talia attempted to press her own breast against Emily''s, and was stymied by the simple fact that Emily was a solid eight inches taller than her.


    A day after I''d brought the van slash portable house up to Redwater Palace for inspection, I''d brought it back around, this time loaded up with the rest of my "adventuring party," which was a really weird way to pronounce ''friend group.'' What, do adventurers not have friends? Whatever. Point was, we were in the living area of the van, and Faith was here too.


    "Yeah, let''s maybe reel it back in," I said, picking Talia up with magic and removing her from Emily''s personal space. "Emily, this is Talia Jones, my girlfriend. She is an elf and a Druid, which is a sacred calling much like your own, and from her devotion to nature stems access to all sorts of wonderful Primal magics. And this is Faith Jones, Talia''s girlfriend, who is a human Paladin, and I trust you to know what a Paladin is."


    Faith was, thankfully, no longer wearing the Paladin''s Guild uniform- either she considered herself "off-duty," or when Napoleon Ironheart told her to stop bringing that uniform through his door, she actually listened, and assumed that I agreed with my dad. So instead, she was wearing ordinary clothing much like my own- a plain white undershirt, a pair of sturdy blue jeans, and a short jacket made of the same material, plus a hat that consisted of a cylindrical cap with a single duckbill-like brim in the front, made of some sort of light-colored canvas.


    "Good to meet you," Faith said, extending a hand for Emily to shake. Oh, how strange it felt to think Faith was the well-behaved one. "So, you''re headed for Mount Fate too, huh?"


    "Mhm," Emily said, nodding. "I want to join the Adventurer''s Guild, and... And make a difference, in the world. Being a Healer is important, but... I need to be in the right place at the right time to really make a difference."


    "Fair enough," Faith said. "Me? I''m trying to change some of the Paladin''s Guild''s old-fashioned rules, and get them to accept gay Paladins."


    "And I... don''t really have a goal," Talia admitted. "I just wanna be with my friends. I kinda just go with the flow."


    "Is that common for Druids?" Emily asked.


    "No, most Druids have goals in mind," I said, shaking my head. "Talia''s just eighteen. She''ll figure herself out, in time."


    "Hey, since this is a meet-and-greet, why not bring in the last member of the party?" Faith asked. "Y''know, uh... Rolex, or whatever her name was."


    "Volex," I corrected her. "And... Y''know what, sure, why not. Emily, have you ever met a succubus before?"


    "You have a succubus reliquary?" Emily asked.


    "My grandfather made it with the help of a human bard named Terpsichore Ironheart," I explained, pulling out Volex''s reliquary from my pocket. "The succubus inside, Volex, was... apparently, a friend to my family, before the war."


    Volex emerged from her reliquary unbidden, smoke pouring out of the iron caps and coalescing into the form of a gorgeous woman with dark blue skin in a scandalously-cut black-and-red evening gown.


    "I was much more than a mere friend, darling," Volex purred, draping herself onto my side. "I was their comrade, their companion. I was sent to corrupt and distract them, to keep them from stopping Demon King Paimon''s entry into this world, and yet they showed me nothing but kindness and acceptance. And as I laid there by the campfire with them, I thought to myself... ''Why the hell would I keep working for that asshole Paimon, when these two have been nicer to me in two hours than he''s been in two centuries?''"


    "As you can see, Volex is more than just long legs and a low-cut dress," I said.


    "I, um..." Emily looked at Volex, her eyes wide, then turned to face me. "Aren''t demons dangerous?"


    "Well, yes and no," I said. "Demon is a catch-all term for any life form that originates in Hell, and technically, orcs and goblins are demons, just like helldrakes and blood moss. Given that orcs and goblins are people with civilizations and culture and language with whom you can easily share a meal and a conversation, while helldrakes and blood moss are mindless predators, there''s a lot of variation. Volex, here, as a succubus, is a creature of the Occult, and so, to a greater extent than is true for people, her behavior is shaped by what people expect of her. Now, considering that she introduced herself to me by saying she didn''t want to hurt me, and offering to instead work together with me to free myself from captivity, my expectation is that she''s my friend, and that I can trust her to, at the very least, be civil with my other friends."


    "He''s being polite," Volex said, smirking. "He also expects me to be flirtatious and lascivious, but in his defense, so does everyone who''s heard of a succubus. Now, I know we were talking about life goals, but why don''t we take a step back and consider our university goals, hm? Joseph, let''s start with you, shall we?"


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    "...Well, honestly, I''m not sure," I admitted. "I have... I think four separate skillsets that could each sustain an entire college education- arcane magic, occult magic, engineering, and martial arts, or whatever else you''d call a knight''s skillset. And the thing is, I''m an elf. I will live forever. And being asked to prioritize just makes me tilt my head to the side and say ''Sure, I have to start somewhere, but I''ve got time to get to all of it.'' Buuuuut, our little group is half human, and I get the feeling that they''d be less sanguine than me about spending a decade of their finite lives at a university."


    "Just a bit," Faith said dryly.


    "It feels like the sort of thing elves warn their kids against," Emily said.


    "I mean, yes but no," I said. "Elves warn their kids against open-ended time-consuming tasks, but something like ''I''m going to get four consecutive university educations in these subjects that fascinate me'' isn''t open-ended, it''s just impractically time-consuming for a human."


    "Oh. Sorry."


    "No, no, you''re good," I said. "Please keep doing that- while you might think you''re a pure-blooded human, by our standards you''re a half-elf, because you were raised by an elf. This sort of nitpicking and arguing and suchlike? That''s just how elves talk to each other, and seeing a human be able to do that is refreshing and heartwarming."


    "How come you didn''t react like that when I started sassing you?" Faith asked.


    "Because I actually like Emily," I said pleasantly.


    "Sucks to be you, then, because Talia does," Faith said.


    "Don''t drag me into your stupid feud," Talia said wearily.


    "Anyhow. Emily, you''re already a fully-fledged Healer," I said. "That''s the sort of training and education that people usually receive after they''ve gone to university, so... I''m curious what you''re going to be studying."


    "I want to learn how to use Arcane magic, actually," Emily said. "I know everyone says it''s not very good at healing people, but I think that Arcane telekinesis and clairvoyance would be really useful supplements to a Healer''s skillset. But, um... I''m not sure if I want to study that for a full four years. I might want to supplement my training with the University''s medical program, to get a more thorough grounding in healing- I have the impression that, while I am really smart, there was also a lot of simplification in my Healer training that left a lot of gaps I''m going to have to fill in."


    "Well, if you only want to do a few basic spells with Arcane magic, I can teach you a few things, no problem," I said, nodding slowly. "The main issue with learning Arcane magic as a beginner is that you need a specific set of mental skills- the ability to clear your mind, and hold an entire spellform in your head. Doing that at all requires either years of practice at meditation, or to willingly submit yourself to hypnosis from a teacher."


    "Hypnosis is real?"


    "Yes, but it also doesn''t work the way it does in the dime novels," I said. "It''s an altered state of mind that makes people more suggestible and bypasses some of their usual inhibitions and good sense, but it''s not perfect- it doesn''t bypass all of their inhibitions and good sense, and it doesn''t turn someone into a mindless puppet that blindly does whatever they''re told."


    "Oh," Emily said.


    "I mean, it bypasses enough that a malicious or merely incautious hypnotist can do some real damage, but for the most part, it''s something you have to approach with caution and respect, rather than something that''s inherently ludicrously dangerous."


    "Also, if you''re a Bard, it does work the way it does in the dime novels," Volex added.


    "Wait, what?" I asked.


    "It''s the magic of narrative and psychology, darling," Volex said, teasingly. "Of course it can have mind-altering effects."


    "Um... are you a Bard?" Emily asked.


    "Not really, no," I said. "I know some Occult magic, but... well, I''ve got a lot more to learn from Volex here."


    "And from your professors," Volex said, nodding.


    "Anyhow," I said. "Once we head out, I can do some sort of hypnosis slash guided meditation sessions with you to help build that foundational skill for Arcane spellcasting. I also recommend brushing up on your math, and not just arithmetic and algebra, but also formal logic and the like. Do some logic puzzles, that sorta thing. I know you''ve already got your main vocation lined up, but these are in fact bare minimum requirements to become a Wizard."


    "Right, well," Volex said, clapping her hands once. "Faith? Talia? What will you be studying?"


    "Alchemy," Talia said immediately. "I''m already a Druid, so I''ve got a lot of magic that lets me do shit with plants, and something like half of alchemy is just about getting the right plants to brew into potions."


    "There''s also the mineral side of alchemy," I pointed out.


    "Yeah, but that''s just rocks," Talia said. "There''s tons of those, and there''s already the entire mining industry dedicated to digging them out of the ground. And if I need minerals that are too expensive for my liking, then I can just get my pet wizard to make those minerals for me, because material transmutation is totally a thing you could do."


    "...I mean, yeah, but it''s harder than you''re making it sound," I said. "...Ugh, fine, I''ll ask Mom about it, I''m sure she''s got some notes I can copy..."


    "I think I''m gonna study law," Faith said. "Maybe even become a lawyer. Not super sure yet, though. Might go for martial arts instead? Or theology? Hell, if they''ve got a Paladin Studies program-"


    "They do," Volex said.


    "Then yeah, I''m just doing that," Faith said. "Honestly, I never thought that much about what I''d want to study at a university. It always seemed so... out-of-reach, to me. Something rich people did, not me."


    "Well, congratulations, you get to make more out of yourself than just another rank-and-file Paladin," I said. "It''s a good opportunity. Don''t blow it."

 Book 2 Chapter 4

    "So, you''re heading out on Monday?" Dad asked, over dinner.


    "Yep," I said, before spooning another mouthful of leek-and-potato soup into my mouth. "I''ve got a bunch of maps, I planned out the route, and I did a little test drive on some of the dirt roads out in the country to check some assumptions. You mind checking my work, actually? I''d rather find out I missed something now, rather than when I''m five hundred miles away and just broke an axle on a rockslide I wasn''t expecting."


    "Sure, sure," Dad said. "So, who all is going with you, again?"


    "Talia and Faith, plus Emily Redwater, one of Duke Redwater''s daughters," I said. "She''s a fully-trained Healer, and she''s also Amelie Rosepetals'' hearth-daughter."


    "Oh, that Emily," Dad said, nodding. "Yeah, I''ve heard about her. Local Healer''s Guild has been hyping up their prodigy for a while now, and Amelie can''t go ten minutes without talking about how proud she is of her children."


    "Does she at least talk about Robert?" I asked.


    "Oh, for sure," Dad said. "Says Robert would''ve made a good Healer too, but that she''s also proud he''s making for a good carpenter instead. I''m glad Jenny was looking for an apprentice when she was- errand-boy for the publishing house isn''t bad work, but it''s not something you can take as much pride in as building good furniture, you know?"


    "Yeah, I getcha," I said, nodding. "Right, well. Here''s the map." I reached into my coat- the downside to having so many bag of holding charms on its pockets was that I kept pretty much everything in my coat, and became very unwilling to take it off even in situations where it was contextually inappropriate- and pulled out a map that was big even folded up into sixteenths, and was printed on thick, tough paper.


    Dad took the map and scooted back in his chair, humming quietly as he unfolded the map and began to read it like a newspaper.


    "...Huh," Dad said. "You''re not going around the Black Desert?"


    "The way I figured it, the Black Desert is dangerous to travelers more because it''s just dry and relatively lifeless, and you can''t restock on food and water," I said. "Not because it''s, you know, full of dragons that will eat you, or whatever. So long as we can cross the Black Desert quickly, then we should be fine. Besides, it''ll shave a whole day off the trip- why wouldn''t I go through it?"


    "You know there''s no roads in the Black Desert, right?" Dad asked. "Wheeled vehicles don''t tend to agree with deep sand, after all."


    "I''m aware," I said. "I''ve got two sets of these steel plates connected to each other like a chain, and when I get to the desert, I can just loop those over the wheels to make a way bigger contact patch, letting me get through the sand without worrying about it."


    "...Alright," Dad said, relenting. "I think you could afford the extra day''s detour, but clearly you did think this through, so... I don''t have any arguments to make besides ''I''ve got a bad feeling about this.''"


    "You might want to listen to your father," Mom said. "He''s no oracle, but his intuition is rarely wrong."


    "It will be fine," I said. "Besides, I want to see the Black Desert for myself. I don''t want my trip across half the continent to just be plains, forests, and rivers. Those are cool, but I live in Redwater; I''ve seen those things before. I wanna see something different."


    "It''s your funeral," Mom said, shrugging.


    "Sorry, hon," Dad said, shrugging helplessly. "You know how stubborn we Ironheart men get."


    "I disowned my own mother more than two thousand years ago, and I still won''t talk to or about her," Mom said dryly. "If we''re arguing over who''s to blame for Joseph being a stubborn jackass, I think we can safely point the finger at me."


    "I mean, it could also be the case that I''m just 18, and being stubborn is a common symptom of that condition," I pointed out. "Fuck knows I''d hardly be the first teenager to settle on a mildly inadvisable course of action and refuse to take the advice of my elders that would push me off that course."


    "He''s got us there," Dad said. "Whatever the case may be, though, have you at least talked this over with your passengers?"


    "Talia wants to see the Black Desert too," I listed off, counting on my fingers. "Faith says she''s fine with it, as long as we pack an extra week''s worth of food and water. And Emily just kinda shyly says ''Okay, sounds good, whatever you say.''"


    "...Are you sure she''s cut out to join the Adventurer''s Guild?" Dad asked.


    Memories swam to the surface.


    ---


    "So, Emily," I began.


    We''d just finished a hypnosis session, preparing her for the most basic application of the Arcane Arts, and she was feeling more awake than usual- a common side effect of coming out of a well-executed trance.


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    "Yes?" Emily asked, turning to face me.


    "I have to say, you really, really don''t seem like Adventurer material to me," I said. "You''re a lovely person and I''m glad I met you, but you''re just... You''re kind of a pushover, honestly. You''re not very assertive, you don''t seem very confident, and you are so fundamentally unskilled at the basics of combat that I have had to teach you how to properly form a fist so you can punch things without breaking your thumb four times now."


    Emily cringed a little, before wilting.


    "I just... I don''t get it," I continued. "Why the hell do you want to join the Adventurer''s Guild? It can''t just be for the education- you''re a favored daughter of Duke Redwater, you can just go to a normal high-quality university that doesn''t encourage you to get into fights constantly. Help me understand, here."


    "...Do you... really need to know?" Emily asked, gnawing at her lip.


    "...As much as I want to encourage you to be more assertive and stand up for yourself, I can''t let that deflection stand," I said, my shoulders sagging. "I''m sorry. But... Yeah. I do, in fact, need to know. My job is to protect you, and that means I have to keep you alive by any means necessary. If it turns out the best way to protect you is to convince you to stay home and keep walking the path of the Healer?" I shrugged. "Well, that''s what I have to do."


    "...Alright," Emily said quietly. "I''ll tell you."


    ---


    "...I had my doubts," I said after a long pause, thinking about what Emily had told me. "But... when I asked her if she was cut out for the Adventurer''s Guild..." I paused again, chewing on my thoughts, trying to massage them into coherent, well-formed sentences. "...I mean, here''s the thing. Anyone who is cut out for the Adventurer''s Guild has something deeply wrong with them. Sane, stable, and right-thinking people are generally very uncomfortable with violence- seeing it or doing it. Someone who''s comfortable with violence, who can live with themselves after using it regularly to make a living... There''s something wrong with them, you know?"


    "I''m aware," Mom said dryly. "I did marry your father, you know."


    "Hey now," Dad said, as though he did not still carry the trauma of the War of the Roses in his heart, as though the white-hot, rapturous anger did not still burn incandescent in his soul every time he saw a Paladin.


    "Are you going somewhere with this, Joseph?" Mom asked.


    "When Emily told me her reasoning for joining the Adventurer''s Guild," I said carefully. "My first thought was... ''Holy shit. There is something deeply wrong with this woman.''"


    "Ah," Dad said.


    "So, yeah," I said. "I do think she''s fucked up enough to join the Adventurer''s Guild. Frankly, I think she''s a better fit than I am, and I literally decapitated a man in the streets."


    "Are you worried for your own safety?" Mom asked.


    "No," I said. "She likes me, and takes the whole ''sworn protector'' thing very seriously. She''s culturally a half-elf, after all, so to her, the idea of an elf being a knight isn''t a silly joke, it''s an evocation of the old stories she was told as a child by her hearth-mother."


    "Well, that''s good," Dad said. "Seeing as you''ll have to share a portable house with her. Hey, by the way, did you want your mother or I to help you make it even bigger on the inside, give you some more room?"


    "Huh? Oh, no, it''s fine," I said, shaking my head. "Jenny does really good work with folding furniture, and the space we''ve got is used really efficiently. I''ve been sleeping in one of the rooms in that thing ever since I got it back from Jenny, and I actually really like it. But, um, I wasn''t finished. Like I said, I''m not worried about my safety. Just, uh... Just that of everyone else around her."


    "...She really is Adventurer''s Guild material," Dad marveled.


    "You should be saying that like the deep insult it is," Mom said blandly.


    "Hey now, our son is Adventurer''s Guild material," Dad protested.


    "No, he is not," Mom said. "Joseph may be a bright young man with a remarkable talent for violence, but he is not an amoral brigand who''s only out to enrich himself. That is what an Adventurer is, Napoleon. They''re not the Hikaano equivalent of Mage-Knights- that''s the Rangers and you know it. An Adventurer is just an unusually wealthy bandit who doesn''t necessarily pay tithes to Fingers."


    "That just means he has a moral compass," Dad said, shrugging. "The fact of the matter is, Ariel, our son is capable, both in body and spirit, of looking a man in the eye, and accepting that he might have to kill them. The part at the end where a typical Adventurer would milk the situation for all it''s worth, and steal everything that isn''t nailed down, that part he won''t do, but... Frankly, that just means I trust him more with the sort of bullshit the Adventurer''s Guild is called on to handle."


    "Right, well, if you two are done debating my qualifications and my moral compass?" I asked.


    "Sorry," Dad said.


    "What''s your feedback on the route I''ve planned?" I asked. "Aside from the risks involved in crossing the Black Desert."


    "Hrm... Well..." Dad hummed quietly. "...You''re following the major roads, and mark all your stops for the night in major towns or cities, instead of just drawing a straight line across the landscape. That''s good, means you paid attention when I taught you this. Let''s see, let''s see... Ah, here we go. This town here, Bardale, is almost entirely human, and noted as being particularly hostile to elves. I''d suggest you go around it, rather than through it, and definitely don''t stop there for the night."


    "Fair enough," I said. "Alright, where''s the nearest place that''d be a good alternative stopping point for the night?"


    "Let me get my almanac out, I need to check some things..."

 Book 2 Chapter 5

    "So..." Talia said. "...Come here often?"


    "No, I''ve never been here before in my life," I said, eyes forward, because I was driving.


    This morning, at first light- Talia and Faith were not happy about waking up that early- I''d finished loading all my shit into my room, along with Talia''s since her house was maybe two hundred feet away, and then headed out to pick up Faith and then Emily, loading their trunks into their rooms.


    An hour later, the sun had fully risen, and I was very grateful I had the adjustable sun-shades to keep the low morning sun out of my eyes. Back in the ''portable house'' half of the van, Emily and Faith were both up in their rooms, having immediately gone back to sleep. Talia, however, had recently woken back up and come down to the driver''s cabin to be with me.


    "...You bored?" Talia asked.


    "Yeah, more than a little," I said, sighing. "I swear, driving this thing is the worst mix of boring and ''needs constant attention.'' Fuck me running... And I signed up for four days of this!"


    "You do know you can pull over, take a few minutes to recover, and then get going again, right?" Volex pointed out, as she slipped out of her reliquary. Considering how freely she could enter and exit that thing, I counted myself very lucky that she was reasonable and friendly; a more typical demon on a defective leash would''ve tried to maul me by now. "I''ve seen the schedule too, and if you stop for a ten minute break every hour or so, that''ll only eat up an extra hour and a half per day- an hour and a half out of a time block that you designated as ''non-essential, use for whatever.''"


    "...Point taken," I said. "Alright, well, this road has stone walls on both sides to keep livestock in, so I''ll wait until we get to somewhere I can pull off the road and get myself a drink."


    "Have you eaten breakfast yet?" Talia asked.


    "I ate a travel ration bar this morning, but..." I grimaced. "...Well, I think I got the recipe wrong, because that thing was not as filling as it should''ve been. Or maybe I just got the portions wrong- I''m not sure. It didn''t taste great, and I didn''t account for it in our actual travel rations, I just figured I''d want something extra that I could eat quickly, and-"


    "How''s scrambled eggs sound?" Talia asked.


    "Can I get some toast with that too?"


    "Sure."


    Talia got out of her seat, and ambled back into the living space.


    "Volex, can you go with her, and maybe offer to cook for her?" I asked, once the door had shut.


    "She''s that bad, huh?" Volex asked, smirking.


    "As a Druid, Talia does understand that humanoids are naturally evolved to eat and digest cooked foods," I said. "She is, however, not very good at cooking, because something about the process just disagrees with her brain. As it stands, I was prepared to do all the cooking on this trip, because I am good at cooking and I like doing it, but..."


    "Got it," Volex said, nodding. "Well, as it so happens, Terpsichore asked me to cook for her a lot, back in the day, so I''d say I''m pretty good at it." She grunted. "Of course, I did learn all the ingredient names in High Elven, so I might need someone to translate the labels on the spice bottles, but..."


    "Oh, I already relabeled all those," I said breezily. "I know it doesn''t matter that much to humans, but as an elf, it just sets my teeth on edge to see things written in anything besides High Elven. How can you expect anyone to be able to read that in two hundred years'' time? But, at the same time..."


    "It''s a mass-produced spice bottle," Volex finished. "It''s a disposable piece of ephemera. It''s barely meant to last more than two years, let alone be legible in two hundred. Anyhow, I''ll go interrupt Talia before she does any more damage."


    She left the driver''s cabin with a swishing of fabric and the clicking of her heels against the textured metal floor of the cabin, leaving me alone in the cabin once again.


    "Four days of this," I said quietly, staring ahead at the wide open landscape of grassy plains and various farm animals, without even a hint of the village we should be coming up on visible on the horizon. "Four fucking days of this."


    I huffed miserably. I wonder if I could teach one of the others how to drive this thing...


    ---


    At around eleven in the morning, we arrived in a town called Sandsdale, named after the sandy little gully that a stream flowed through, even in the summer. I checked my map, and after a few moments of muttering to myself to figure out just where the hell we were, I carefully navigated my van through the town''s poorly-cobbled streets until I arrived at our first real rest stop: the Sandsdale Traveller''s Inn.


    Alongside the Gods of Mages, Paladins, Thieves, and other high-prestige Hikaano professions, there was the God of Innkeepers, of all fucking things. The Innkeeper''s Guild wasn''t just a professional organization of innkeepers, hotel owners, and restauranteurs, it also employed a number of cartographers and copywriters, and operated a publishing house that regularly produced high quality maps, travel guides, and almanacs for the typical traveller.


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    Adventurers were, of course, a major source of income for the Innkeepers, but that didn''t mean that prices at a Guild Tavern were outrageously high- while the food was a little more expensive than what you could get from a street vendor, it was still totally possible for two people to walk in with a dollar between them and walk out with full bellies.


    "I''m sorry," I said. "I must''ve misheard you."


    "It''s twenty dollars to park here for an hour, and a hundred for a full day," the valet repeated.


    The operative word in that assertion was walk in. See, Adventurers and aristocrats were the only people who traveled through town in vehicles, and those needed to go somewhere when they weren''t moving. So, in order to milk this wealthy clientele for all they were worth, the Innkeeper''s Guild absolutely gouged you on parking fees.


    This wasn''t the only reason I wanted to take the train, or even the main one, but the fact that twenty dollars would''ve bought a ticket straight to Mount Fate that included meals was definitely one of them.


    "...Alright," I muttered, reaching into a pocket and pulling out a twenty-dollar bill. "Here."


    The valet took the bill, and then tore off a ticket from the end of a reel, before tearing it in half and pocketing one of the halves. "You''ll have to show this at your departure, sir. Don''t lose it."


    "Thanks," I said, instead of yelling at the guy who literally just works here, and probably wouldn''t get paid even ten percent of that bill for today''s work. It wasn''t like he set the prices, after all. "Where do I park it?"


    "Right in this marked spot, sir. Carefully, now."


    ---


    "That''s highway robbery!" Faith nearly yelled.


    "Please don''t yell inside this very lovely tavern," I said, my voice raised a little. I then quieted back down to a normal inside voice. "Look, we''re Adventurers now, and what that means is that everyone expects us to be rich assholes, and nobody is going to feel bad about milking us for everything we''re worth. Because as far as the common man is concerned, Adventurers already stole and looted all that money. So, no, we are not going to start a fight or cause a scene because the Innkeeper''s Guild, a business which has to make money to pay its employees and suppliers, has decided to charge wealthy patrons a premium for services that are legitimately expensive."


    "Legitimately expensive?" Faith asked, her low volume belying her simmering anger. "Joseph, it is an empty plot of land where you park caravans for an hour. How exactly is that expensive?"


    "That''s an empty plot of land that could have been used to build a house, plant a garden, or do all sorts of other productive things," I said. "Inside the town''s perimeter walls, where it''s so conveniently close-by. And instead of any of those productive uses, it had to be used for parking. The money you''d gain from turning that into a house or a food garden is, conversely, the money you lose by not turning it into a house or a food garden."


    "Well said, young man!" someone said from behind me, prompting me to turn around.


    Walking up to us was a well-dressed middle-aged man with wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, and a brightly gleaming set of teeth inside that mouth. His skin was a light-medium brown, the sort that left you unsure of whether it was a tan from working outside, or just what he naturally looked like. His hair was shiny black and curly, with dots of salt beginning to poke through the pepper, especially in his goatee.


    "Yes, indeed," the man continued, coming to a stop at the end of our table. "The economic principle of which this young man speaks is called opportunity cost, and it is one of the more basic, and also more important, terms of art for we in the Merchant''s Guild. Now, young lady, I hope you will forgive me for the presumption, but- you did not grow up in a wealthy household, did you?"


    "...Not really, no," Faith said. "We weren''t poor, Mom and Dad always had food on the table, and we never worried about not being able to pay rent and getting kicked out, but... I got a single dollar''s monthly allowance, growing up. And I knew that Mom and Dad couldn''t give me more than that- they were stretching just to give that much. So..."


    "So, now that you''re part of an adventuring party, you''re experiencing some culture shock," the man said sagely. "I understand completely- I had a similar experience when I first joined the Merchant''s Guild. Oh, I was very good with money when it was just numbers on paper for my exams and coursework, but twenty dollars? That was as much money as I spent in a whole month on food, rent, and a new pair of socks. But, when you''re a merchant, conducting all these business deals... You deal with huge amounts of money. Money that perhaps isn''t yours, and that you can''t spend freely, but that you''re still spending. And after a while... Well. When you''re cutting a deal worth a million dollars, spending a hundred dollars on a good bottle of wine to lubricate the negotiations feels less like an extravagance, and more like a hard-nosed business expense."


    "...Hm."


    "What I mean to say is... You''ll get used to it, young lady. Just give it time."


    "Thanks, I guess... Mister, uh...?"


    "Oh!" The man smacked his forehead with the heel of his palm. "Where are my manners? Augustus Hernandez, active member of the Merchant''s Guild. I do apologize for interrupting, young man, but I''m told you are the owner of that steel caravan with the shiny red paint. I don''t suppose I could convince you to tell me where you got it, can I?"


    Augustus planted his hand on the table, leaning forward a little, and in a neat little sleight of hand trick, a hundred-dollar bill appeared underneath that hand, sticking out enough that I could grab it.


    "I built it myself," I said. "And while I don''t have the time to build one for you or whoever your client might be..." I hummed quietly. "...Well. That doesn''t mean we can''t talk business, Mister Hernandez. Go tell the valet we''ll be another hour, and I''ll grab you a seat."

 Book 2 Chapter 6

    "The hell was that all about?" Faith asked, once we were back on the road.


    "I had an invention that would significantly advance the state of the art in vehicle manufacturing," I said with a shrug. "I also did not have the time to start my own carriage shop and exploit that invention myself. What I did have was a lot of money, some technical drawings I was confident that a good engineer would be able to follow, and a Merchant who was looking for his next big score."


    "So, what, you''re just gonna trust some random guy we met in a tiny village to start a business in your name?" Faith asked.


    "Of course not," I said. "And he knew that too, which is why we didn''t actually sign anything. When we get to Mount Fate, and I have free time again, I''ll look him up, look into his track record, and maybe shop around for someone better if he doesn''t strike me as suitable to run my carriage business for me." I shrugged. "I can afford to be patient. I already have one of these things, after all."


    "That... makes sense," Faith said, before sighing.


    I kept driving, and the silence hung in the air for a good minute or two. It was nice. Companionable, even. I was slowly managing to forget that Faith willingly swore herself to the God that killed my grandparents.


    "I keep thinking about what he said," Faith said, breaking the silence. "That... When you''re handling a lot of money, even if that money isn''t really yours, you just... You get used to it, to the point you don''t think much of spending a hundred entire Hikaano dollars on just a bottle of wine."


    "When you have enough of a certain resource, it stops feeling like a resource," I said. "Or rather... It stops feeling like a limiting factor. Elves live forever, and elven Wizards just keep building up their magicka reserves over time. For elven Wizards, there''s no point to using material components, because those cost time and effort, and only save a bit of magicka, which they inevitably end up with huge reserves of. You still notice costs, you just don''t feel them as sharply, and you become more willing to eat a larger cost if it means saving more of some other resource you value more, like your time and effort."


    "I mean, intellectually it makes sense, I just..." Faith trailed off. "...Despite all that, the image of someone casually spending a hundred dollars on a bottle of wine is... It makes me angry, but it also just feels so absurd, you know? It feels like a lazy joke someone would make about how stupid rich people are, but- but it''s not, it''s real, it actually happened, and Augustus thought telling me that would make me feel better about all this."


    "Did you know that High Elves didn''t really have currency?" I asked mildly.


    "...What?" Faith asked.


    "We didn''t trade goods and services for coins, paper bills, or any other common medium of exchange," I said. "If someone had something you wanted? You asked nicely, or traded something you had that they wanted. Something like a barter economy, if you remember that from history class, although of course history class got a lot of shit wrong about the High Elven economy."


    "How did anyone who wasn''t a farmer feed themselves?" Faith demanded.


    "We had a lot of Druids using Primal magic to grow fruits and nuts and vegetables and grains in tremendous quantities," I said with a shrug. "We had more food than we could eat. And, well... I mean, you didn''t pay your parents for the food they gave you, did you? Well, that''s how it worked for us, too. Just about everyone was related to a Druid, and the Druids made a lot of food to feed their families, so..."


    "What about people who didn''t have families, though? Orphans? People who disowned their parents?"


    "I should back up and clarify," I said. "The Gods of the High Elves are The Mother and The Father. And among the first, most basic of The Mother''s teachings is this: no one goes hungry. So, High Elves put a lot of importance on traditions of hospitality- to let someone go hungry when there is so much food to go around is an injustice, and it was the duty of all capable adults to correct injustices, to make things right. Four hundred years ago, if you came to Napoleon Ironheart as a beggar, dressed in rags, belly empty, he would take you into his home and feed you from his own stocks without a second thought. He would bring you to his bathroom, show you how to work the taps, and give you a bar of lavender-scented soap he''d made himself and a clean robe to wear. And once you were warm, and fed, and clean, he would ask someone in his family who liked to sew if they wouldn''t mind making some proper clothes for this poor, lost soul, and they would regard it as a blessing, as an opportunity to make the world better by doing something they liked.


    "Elves got new things by either making those things themselves, or as a favor from a friend or a neighbor. Elves considered money to be a saddening way to abstract away the delicate, interconnected social fabric of a community, of people helping each other out because it was the right thing to do, they didn''t have anything better going on, or even just because the help would take the form of an activity they enjoyed."


    "It sounds... It sounds like a fairy tale," Faith murmured.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "Yeah, humans wrote a lot of fairy tales about elves," I said quietly. "A lot of stories about the elves stealing humans away are... Not completely fictitious. Elves didn''t have a social practice of kidnapping humans, of course- that''s a stupid thing to do- but we did have a social practice of taking in lost strangers and treating them like our own. Plenty of humans found themselves without a place in the society that raised them, and decided... Fuck it, I''ve heard about the elves and their excess and plenty. Let''s go see if they''ll take me. And they did! Consistently, without fail, the High Elves would accept humans into their midst, accept them into their families. Half-elves were always pretty common." I hummed. "The stories portraying us as tricksters are also grounded in fact. The biggest problem we faced was boredom, and so we developed a sense of humor. When we learned about the human practice of intentionally aging wine, someone suggested using that as the basis of a child-rearing tradition."


    "Wait, what?" Faith asked. "How does aging wine relate to raising a child?"


    "Oh, it''s simple," I said breezily. "You tell the kid that, when they were born, you brewed a bottle of good wine, and that you were aging it, so that when they''d come of age, and had a matured palate, they could properly appreciate it, and experience the sublime joys of a wine that''s as old as you are."


    "...Wait, you said this was a prank?" Faith asked.


    "Uncle Frederick pulled it on me last week," I said dryly. "The punchline of the prank is that, twenty-odd years later, the wine has gone bad, and become vinegar. Badly-made vinegar, at that. And this is meant to teach an important life lesson: don''t wait for luxuries for no reason. If it''s ready, and you can enjoy it now, then just do it. Don''t put it off, thinking you''re gonna get to it one of these years- do it. Because, while a lot of what humans think about how High Elves think is wrong, it is true that we have tend to have bigger problems with procrastination than humans do. Of course, with immortality, it''s not as consequential as it is with humans, but it can still ruin your week."


    "Huh," Faith said. "...Did Talia''s parents do that to her, too?"


    "I asked her that exact question earlier today," I said. "And she said, ''No, my parents love me.''"


    "Ouch, burn," Faith said, smirking.


    "Yeah, Tim''s not really much of a traditionalist," I said, shrugging. "He''s only in his forties, y''know? If your dad wasn''t in his early 20s when you were born, he might actually be older than Tim. No, Tim grew up in the Hikaano Empire, surrounded by humans. For all that he''s a father with a stable, respectable job, he''s more a peer to me than he is to Napoleon. You can tell, because Tim actually charges people money for things."


    "Your dad doesn''t?" Faith asked.


    "Nah, he''s an old-school Druid," I said. "The way he sees it, his job is to keep his people alive and healthy- feed them when they''re hungry, heal them when they''re sick, help them give birth, et cetera. And he gets paid for this service by being a well-loved pillar of the community. People are happy to do favors for him- he''s helped them so much, it''s only fair they do what they can for him, isn''t it? He does still sometimes have to pay for things, of course, so he does take some paying work outside the community- mostly one-off contract work for the Ranger''s Guild- but for something like healing Amelie and removing her liver cancer? Nope. He did that for free, because that''s just how the world works, to him- he helps people when they need it, and later, they help him when he needs it. I know he doesn''t look old, but... He''s five hundred years old. That''s not ancient, the way my two-and-a-half-millennia-old mother is, but he is old. Old enough to remember the way we used to be, and to keep that spark alive, one day at a time."


    "...Do you think it would''ve still been that way today, if the war hadn''t happened?"


    "On the one hand, that social order lasted for millennia. The idea that it''d continue for another three centuries isn''t exactly hard to swallow," I said. "However... There were other things changing, too. Industrialization, the Scientific Revolution, the Dragon Wars... In the end? I don''t know. We''ll never know. The Rosewood Kingdom is gone. King Lysander Rosewood is dead, his legacy reduced to blood in the gutter and dust on the wind. But..." I sighed. "...Maybe we can make it that way, someday. Maybe we can build a better tomorrow, a world without hunger, where all want for naught. But we don''t live there yet. And the path is long, winding, and poorly lit."


    Faith sighed.


    "...I''m sorry," Faith said quietly.


    "It''s not your fault," I said.


    "I swore myself to the God who killed your grandparents," Faith said. "Who ordered the destruction of your homeland and your people. I... I mean, I knew that elves lived forever, that the War of the Roses destroyed their homeland, and I even knew that there were some elves still around who were old enough to remember it, but... I just... I never connected those dots, and fully realized what the Paladins had done. What Hano had done."


    Thunder rumbled, loud enough to be heard over the (admittedly, magically-muffled) noise of the van.


    I sighed, ignoring the impotent little godling''s pitiful little temper tantrum.


    "It''s not too late to change your mind," I said. "Apostasy is always an option."


    "What the hell else is there for me?" Faith asked. "Being a Paladin is all I have, Joseph. That''s... That''s why I''m sorry. I... I have to stick with this."


    I had a lot I could say to that...


    ...but. Well.


    I let it drop, and just kept driving.

 Book 2 Chapter 7

    Our first full stop, where I parked the van and could be confident I was done driving, was at a Ranger Lodge about twenty miles from Bardale. According to Dad, he knew a guy in the Ranger''s Guild who had ended up being transferred to here, and that guy had, through an enchanted messenger pigeon, assured him that we could stay there for the night.


    "Careful, carefu- aw, hell."


    "Whoops," I said, watching the remaining urine trickle out of the poor deer''s bladder.


    The assumption wasn''t ungrounded: boys tend to be like their fathers. Napoleon Ironheart is a master outdoorsman who could skin, drain, and gut a deer carcass in three minutes with his eyes closed and one hand behind his back. Therefore, Joseph Ironheart should be able to gut a deer carcass with a small amount of guidance and instruction from one of the Rangers.


    Unfortunately, I was not a great outdoorsman. I didn''t have what it took. And I had just demonstrated this by accidentally puncturing the deer bladder with the knife, spilling urine all over its lower half.


    "I, uh... I don''t suppose that''s the sort of thing we can just clean off, is it? Or do we just scrap all the meat that got piss on it?"


    "We rinse it off with a lot of water," the Ranger said, already doing that with his canteen. "Dammit. Oh well, mistakes happen. You''ll get better with practice."


    "Mm," I said. He was right that practice would improve my skills, but he was dead wrong about how often I intended to field-dress a deer.


    The High Elves were not called that because we considered ourselves to be better than anyone. We were called that because we lived in densely-built cities of high towers, just like how Wood Elves are called that because they live in fairy glades which are almost always in the woods, and Dark Elves are called that because nobody knows where they live and that''s how they like it. The fact that I was a city boy at heart was not a betrayal of my elven heritage, I swear, it''s Napoleon who''s the weird one with his stupid goddamn grass-touching addiction.


    "How about you do the rest of it, so I don''t screw up your dinner any further?" I suggested.


    "Fair enough. Alright, watch closely. So what you wanna do is-"


    ---


    We''d gathered around a bonfire as the sun set, and ate big, hearty bowls of deer and potato stew, seasoned with whatever wild herbs the Rangers managed to rustle up.


    "So," the lodgemaster began, cutting through the chatter. "Joseph Ironheart."


    "That''s me," I said, after swallowing my latest bite of stew. I was learning that I didn''t like deer very much, but whatever, free food was free food.


    "I''ve heard a lot about your father," he continued.


    "I take after my mother," I said idly.


    "Tell me... how good are you at campfire stories?"


    "Never done that once in my life," I said. "I''m sorry, I don''t want to be rude, but I am not a Druid and I am definitely not a Ranger. I built an entire goddamn house inside my caravan because I was that opposed to spending a few nights sleeping in a tent. I know my dad''s given you high expectations for what an Ironheart is like, but... That''s not me, y''know?"


    "You''re an occultist who studies the magic of story and song," Faith said dryly.


    "...Okay, point, but still," I said. "Uhhh... Okay, what kind of story would be appropriate..."


    "Well, you''re an elf," one of the miscellaneous Rangers (I would not be learning their names, I did not care about these people) pointed out. "How about something old and historical?"


    I tapped my chin as I thought about the stories I could tell.


    The first one that came to mind was the story of Terpsichore Ironheart, and how she''d united a Mage-Knight and a Succubus to destroy the cult of Demon King Paimon. And then I immediately dismissed that, because as cool and elf-like Rangers might like to think they are, they are fundamentally still Hikaano, and I''m not telling a bunch of strange Hikaanos a story about sex. Because that was the emotional moneyshot, for anyone who wasn''t a direct descendant of Artorias Wind-Caller- the way that Terpsichore flipped the script on Volex, weaving a tale of love and redemption and betrayal around her, until a formerly cold and cruel demon for whom sex was just her preferred weapon became a noble, caring person who would betray her own king for the people she loved, who had shown her kindness she was unaccustomed to.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    Because a big part of that kindness was that Terpsichore Ironheart fucked Volex so good she couldn''t walk afterwards.


    So... Time to pick a different one. Maybe... Ah, to hell with it, let''s go real classic.


    "...Alright, so," I began. "Let me tell you one of the oldest stories there is."


    ---


    Six thousand years ago, there had been only two true peoples in this world: humans, and dragons. The capriciously cruel Fairy Lords of Annwn would abduct humans from our world, but a thousand years and several generations later, the Fairy Lords were slaughtered like cattle and their grand manors laid to waste; staggering back out of Annwn, and sealing the plane away from ours with the Iron Gate, came the hardy dwarves and the immortal elves, lost and homeless in the world that had once been their home.


    The problem was easier for the dwarves than the elves- the inherent magic of the dwarves, plus their learned skills and culture, allowed them to carve vast holds into mountains, and begin building The Mountainhomes. For elves, though, they ultimately weren''t anything more than humans whose profoundly traumatized old-timers lacked the good graces to die of old age.


    The elves as a people splintered. The Dark Elves came to the dwarves, hat in hand, begging to learn their ways, and the dwarves, remembering their elven allies in the rebellion against the Fairy Lords, happily obliged; once the Dark Elves had learned enough of the dwarven craft to carve their own underground homes, they disappeared from the surface of the earth, never to be seen again. The Wood Elves found themselves longing for the lost splendors of Annwn, despite the overwhelming trauma of the Otherworld and the caprices of their captors, and strove to recreate some of those splendors, creating and nurturing rich Fairy Glades in the deep, untamed forests of the world. The High Elves tried their best to re-embrace their stolen humanity, and built dense cities of high towers, and welcoming humans into their midst.


    Unfortunately for the High Elves, the Fairy Lords were hardly the only otherworldly tyrants they had to worry about. In the time the High Elves had been away, some humans, secluded and in shadows, had managed one way or another to make contact with the Demon Kings of Hell. The Demon Kings wanted the riches and resources of the mortal plane, for Hell had long since been depleted and despoiled beyond repair by their rapacious greed, and they promised these humans that, if they were to open a portal to allow the demons into the mortal plane, they would be rewarded greatly, and made a Duke in their King''s new demesne.


    One of these would-be summoners, a human whose name was lost to time, spoke to a Prince of the High Elves about the Demon Kings, explaining his task, and offering to share the reward with the Prince. The Prince, Mordecai Rosewood, had been but a child during the Fairy Rebellion, and had grown up knowing only the glory of victory, and none of the true cost of war. Over his thousand years of life on the mortal plane, he had been perpetually frustrated by the other High Elves- he knew just how effective an elven army could be, and yet his people refused to fight, refused to conquer the world that he believed should rightfully belong to the High Elves.


    Mordecai wheedled everything he could out of this summoner, promising him that, soon, the time would be right to act. And then... Mordecai simply waited for the summoner to die of old age. He intended to rule the world himself, after all- why should he be forced to share it with some pitiful human? And once he knew he would not... He took a little vacation- he told his brother, Lysander Rosewood, that he simply wanted to visit the Wood Elves in the nearby glade.


    When he arrived, he slaughtered the Wood Elves, and everything else living in that glade. With the unholy power of his bloody desecration, he wrenched open a hole in the veil between planes, and threw open the Gates of Hell.


    And through those Gates marched the most successful Demon King there ever was: Lucifer Morningstar, the Dark Lord. The ranks of his armies were filled with special breeds of demon, crafted by Lucifer himself from the souls of humans who had been condemned to Hell, and bred into beings that we would today recognize as orcs and goblins.


    Mordecai welcomed the Dark Lord with open arms, expecting to be rewarded for betraying his people.


    The Dark Lord rewarded him as a traitor deserves: a swift death, before Mordecai knew it was coming. That he died painlessly was the only mercy.


    From that point onwards, it was war. Grandiose, bloody, terrible war. Mordecai got his wish, in the end: the High Elves raised an army and went to war, immortal masters of their craft slaughtering demons like cattle, carving a bloody swath through the hordes of the Dark Lord, until, at long last, after three years of fighting, High King Lysander Rosewood faced the Dark Lord in single combat.


    The fight was long, bloody, and brutal, carving huge gouges into the landscape, destroying their surroundings. By the end of it, their weapons- masterworks of artifice given the grandest enchantments their peoples could muster- had shattered, and become useless.


    So Lysander Rosewood beat the Dark Lord to death with his bare hands. By the time it was over, nobody could recognize the Dark Lord''s remains, and Lysander himself was only recognizable by the smoldering wisps of his soul still clinging to life.


    Lysander recovered, under the care of the greatest Druids to walk the earth, but alas, his victory was not final. A Demon King, you see, is much like a Living God- simply killing them doesn''t destroy them forever. A scant two hundred years later, in the lands still claimed by the orcs, a child was born with the reincarnated soul of the Dark Lord. Surok Mor''gash conquered the warring clans of orcs, and began the next Dark Crusade, starting a pattern that lasted for more than three thousand years. Only as recently as six hundred years ago was the mantle of the Dark Lord finally extinguished, by a young, half-elven knight sworn to The Mother, Elven God of Freedom, Justice, and War, bringing the world a measure of peace at long last.


    ---


    "...Eh, you''ll get there," the lodgemaster said, after I finished.


    I rolled my eyes, and stood up, preparing to head back to the van so I could finally get some fucking rest.


    "Wait," Faith said, before I could go. "Who was that half-elven knight? Don''t we remember his name? That was only six hundred years ago- your own mother is more than two thousand! Surely someone who was there remembers his name!"


    "You already know his name," I said. "His name was Hano, and he became the God of Paladins."

 Book 2 Chapter 8

    The next day, late in the morning, we stopped at a little farming village, right next to someone''s house- they seemed to already be home, and were coming out to see just what the fuck was going on.


    "Hi there," I called out, announcing my presence. "Do you mind if we stop here for a half hour? We can put the caravan somewhere else if it''s in the way."


    "It''s alright," the farmer said- a man who looked to be maybe thirty, well-tanned and weather-beaten, wearing a pair of battered denim overalls. "Oh- Jenny, no, Jenny don''t-"


    "Mister Elf!" the little girl who was evidently named Jenny yelled, running past her father and up to the van. "Are you a Wizard?"


    "I am, yeah," I said, nodding. "Do you need something?"


    "My kitty''s been lost for a week!" she pleaded. "Can you find her?"


    "Jenny, don''t-" her father began.


    "I''ll see what I can do," I said, before opening the door and getting out. "I''ll need your help, though."


    "Oh, are we at the village already?" Faith asked, poking her head out of the living space and into the cab. "What''re you doing?"


    "Helping this little girl find her lost cat," I said with a shrug. "Wanna watch?"


    "Sure, I wanna see where you''re going with this," Faith said.


    "Alright, now- Jenny, was it?" I waited for her to nod. "I need you to think about your cat really hard. Think about all the good times you''ve had together, the softness of its fur, and what it looks like. Are you doing that? Good, now keep doing that. So, what I''m about to do is a bit of Bard magic, and it''s going to feel weird, like an itch or a tickle on the inside of your head, but I need you to stay calm, and stay focused on the cat, and to just let the magic work."


    "Hey now," the farmer began, suspiciously.


    "What I''m going to do," I said a bit louder, for his benefit, "is I''m going to cast a spell to feel the connection between you and your cat, and then I can use another spell to find out where your cat is. Is that okay with you?"


    "Mhm!" Jenny said, nodding vigorously. "Please, Mister Elf!"


    "Call me Joseph," I said, taking a knee and patting her on the shoulder. "Alright, let''s see..."


    I hummed a little tune to myself as I shaped my magicka in different ways from my norm. I was very glad that Occult magic did still use the magicka reserves I built up from being a Wizard, because that meant I could cast way more of it than I''d be able to if I wasn''t a Wizard and was still just a dabbling Occultist.


    Jenny''s bond with her cat was very obvious to my Occult senses, now, and with just a little twist of magicka, I was able to grab onto the bond, rather than Jenny herself, and from there, with a bit more magicka, I was able to grab onto the other end of the bond, which was, of course, Amelia Rosenthal Whiskers herself. (Jenny was very good at naming things for a seven year old.)


    "Alright," I said, nodding slowly. "I think I found her, but I''m gonna need to take a little walk to be sure. Sir, would you mind coming with me, make sure I don''t get into anything I shouldn''t? I don''t want to trespass in someone''s pasture and get attacked by an angry bull."


    "Yeah, sure thing," the farmer said, nodding. "I''m James. James Courser. And, uh... Thank you."


    I blinked a few times.


    "...Either that''s a common name, or I know one of your relatives," I said carefully, as we walked around the house, through a little gate in the wire fence, and into a pasture full of sheep.


    "Are you from Redwater?" James asked. "I know my older brother, Matthew, decided he didn''t want to be a farmer, and moved there to find work in a factory, but..."


    "Huh, so I do know one of your relatives," I said. "I went to high school with your nephew, John Courser. Small world, huh?"


    "Are the two of you... friends?" James asked tentatively.


    "I never particularly liked him, honestly," I said primly, instead of the less-varnished truth of ''After stealing a family heirloom that was all we had to remember my half-uncle''s mother by, I beat him up and cut off his ear in a warehouse.''


    "That''s... fair, yeah," James said, sighing. "Matthew was always... Well, my brother''s a prick, to be honest. I''m not surprised his son turned out the same way."


    "What makes you think he''s the prick and not me?" I asked.


    "A little kid you''ve never met ran up to you and demanded you use magic to find her lost cat," James said dryly. "And as far as I can tell, it just hasn''t occurred to you that you could''ve told her no."


    "Well, fair enough," I said, chuckling. "Alright, so... On the other side of this hill- is that still your land?"


    "It is, yeah," James said, nodding. "Nobody wanted it, because hills are a pain to farm on, and nobody else wants to wrangle sheep, so..."


    "Alright, cool," I said, walking over the crest of the hill. "So, what I think happened is... Was there a big rain storm sometime within the last week or so?"


    "There was, yeah," James said, nodding. "Why?"


    "My guess is that the cat was outside when it started raining, bolted for the nearest cover, and after it finally stopped raining, a lot of the scent cues she used to find her way home had gotten washed away, and now she''s confused as hell."If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "That... is very possible," James admitted. "Jenny loves that cat to bits, but good gods is it stupid."


    "The best kind of pet cat, in my opinion, except when you live somewhere with predators," I said. "Hrm... Ah, there we go." I broke into a light jog down the hill, making a beeline for where I knew Miss Whiskers was hiding out.


    "Whoa, easy there," James said, picking up his own pace as I bolted down the hill.


    "Hey, kitty," I said, crouching down next to an old, rotted-out, hollow log. "C''mon with me, okay? Jenny misses you- I''m gonna take you home."


    Now, believe it or not, cats did not usually speak Hikaano, but with just a little pulse of Occult magic, barely enough to qualify as a proper spell, this truly stupid cat was very easy to convince of my safety and friendliness, and it took barely a second for her to clamber on out of that log and into my arms.


    "Well, I''ll be damned," James said, planting his hands on his hips. "I thought she''d been eaten by a coyote or something."


    "Nope," I said, scratching Whiskers behind the ears, earning some very loud purrs in the process. "The sheep protected her."


    James laughed at that, and shook his head slowly. "Well, damn. Thank you, Joseph- I mean that sincerely. If you''re going to be stopping here to rest anyways, I don''t suppose I could convince you to eat lunch with us? It''s the least we could do."


    "Sure, if you''re gonna twist my arm like that," I said, grinning.


    ---


    "Eat up, dearie," Helena, James'' wife, insisted. She was the sort of pretty that you saw in human-published magazines, with fair skin, a slender build, and golden blonde hair... which was, therefore, a little disconcerting to see paired with denim overalls, a plain cotton t-shirt, and the fact that the only reason she didn''t have dirt under her fingernails was because she knew better than to cook without washing her hands first. "Look at you, you''re all skin and bones!"


    "I''m an elf," I protested.


    "So is she," Helena said, gesturing at Talia.


    "I''ve tried for years to fatten him up," Talia said, sighing.


    "Talia, you''ve cooked for me maybe three times in your life," I said.


    "Over the course of years, yes," Talia said, nodding.


    I rolled my eyes, and moved on. "Anyhow... James, I don''t suppose you ever get out to Redwater, do you?"


    "Once a year, to sell some of my harvest and buy things we can''t get here," James said. "Why?"


    "Next time you''re there, go to the neighborhood called Greenwood Village- or just ''Elftown,'' people call it that too- and ask for a man named Napoleon Ironheart. Tell him you''re a friend of Joseph, and he''ll put you up for the night and send you off with a few bottles of elven wine and a big tin of elven tea-leaves."


    "Hey now, you''ve done enough for me," James protested. "You know I can''t pay you back for that."


    "This would be you doing me a favor, honestly," I said. "I wanna be a community Big Man like my dad is, and this is how I do that."


    "...Yeah? How''s that?"


    "For elves, the Big Man is a busybody who''s always got his nose in everyone''s business," I said. "He solves problems for people with whatever skills he''s got, or with whatever connections he''s got- everyone knows the Big Man, and feels like they owe him a favor or two, so when he comes by and asks you to help someone else because he can''t help them, you''ll happily do it."


    "Alright..."


    "So, don''t you go worrying about whether you can repay me for my kindness," I said with a shrug. "At some point in the future, I''m going to need your help with something, and I will in fact come back to you, metaphorical hat in hand. Besides, I''d like to remind you that I did not pay a single red cent for this meal."


    "I''ve been meaning to ask, actually- where is your hat?"


    "High Elves don''t really do hats," I said with a shrug. "Historically, only like one in ten High Elves actually worked outside, and most of those worked in forests- not a lot of sunlight or weather beneath the canopy, you know?"


    John nodded slowly, absorbing the information carefully.


    "...Actually, y''know what?" I said, tapping my chin. "There is something you can do for me right now, if you really want."


    "You need a hat?" James asked, smirking.


    "I need some straw," I said. "I''ve just had a weird, disjointed train of thought that brought me to a machine I want to try making, and I''ll need some straw to use it on. It''s a braiding machine, see, and I know that one of the ways straw hats can be made is braiding a wide, flat ribbon of straw and then sewing the edges of that ribbon together into a hat shape."


    "Oh, now that is no problem," James said. "Honey, do we still have that bale?"


    "Up in the hayloft, yeah," Helena said, nodding. "We''ll go get it after you''ve finished your bowl, young man."


    "Well, if you insist..."


    ---


    "This is weird," Faith said, once we were back in the van. "You''re not usually anywhere near this calm, and laid-back, and friendly, and nice..."


    "No, he is," Talia said, nodding insistently. "You met him when he was having a bad day."


    "...Huh," Faith said.


    "Like most elves," I added, "I tend to get a lot less patient and forgiving when there''s a Paladin involved."


    Faith winced, and I sighed.


    "...No, no, that''s not fair to you, I''m sorry," I said, quietly. "You''re... Literally the worst you have ever done to me is be mildly annoying on occasion. You''re fine, Faith. It''s just... No. No excuses. I''m sorry. I was an asshole to you when I shouldn''t have been."


    "...Apology accepted," Faith said. "And... I''m sorry for how I''ve treated you, too. I''ve been ruder than necessary, myself."


    "Aaaaaand kiss," Talia said, grinning.


    Faith just looked at me and quirked an eyebrow, which left me with a lot to chew on. What was the funniest thing to do in this situation?


    After a moment''s pause, I grabbed Faith by the waist, sweeping her off her feet and dipping her low, and kissing her firmly for a few good, long seconds.


    Then I put her back on her feet, let go of her, and casually sauntered off back to the driver''s cabin to get us back on the road, the sound of Talia''s sputtering laughter following me all the while.

 Book 2 Chapter 9

    "So, tomorrow''s not gonna have much in the way of scenery," I said, setting a big tray on the table. "We''re gonna wake up bright and early, refit the van with tracks instead of wheels, and then we''re gonna drive through the Black Desert until we get to the other side."


    "Can we stop in the middle so I can look at the scenery?" Talia asked as she grabbed the biggest bread roll- I hadn''t divided up the dough super precisely, because while I was a machinist, that just meant that I understood just how much of a pain in the ass chasing precision was and relished opportunities where I could just shrug and eyeball things and it''d work out fine.


    "I mean, sure, but we won''t stop for very long, because you''re gonna get bored real fuckin'' quick," I said with a shrug, sitting down and grabbing some food for myself. Dinner tonight was a big pot of beef stew, which I did not anticipate we would finish tonight; the idea here was, once we''d eaten all we could, we''d then put it in the refrigerator to keep it fresh, and tomorrow, whenever we got hungry, we''d just put the pot back on the stove and eat some more stew. "It''s the world''s most desolate desert. Black sands, very rare plant life, and hardly any animals. There''s more life in a single public toilet than there is in the entire Black Desert."


    "Ew," Faith said primly.


    "It''s kinda like the ocean, except even more boring, honestly," I said idly. "There''s this one exchange from one of Uncle Frederick''s books that''s always stuck with me- this guy is trying to become a sailor because he wants to see the world, and the captain tells him to go look over the side of the ship and tell him what he sees. The guy says it''s nothing but water, all the way to the horizon, and the captain said..." I cleared my throat. "''Aye, you''ll find all the world looks that way from the deck of a sailing ship. Now that you''ve seen the world, lad, do you find yourself still drawn to sailing?''"


    "That was a stupid conversation," Talia said. "The whole rest of the book was all about a bunch of interesting things happening at sea."


    "Well, yes but no," I said. "And it definitely doesn''t scuttle my point. For one, most of the interesting things came from the people on the ship interacting with each other- the sea itself was just the reason why all these large personalities were, essentially, locked in a room together. And two... The interesting parts that did come from the sea were in the form of storms and a sea monster or three, depending on how you count. And I said the Black Desert was even less interesting than the ocean, and the lack of meaningful weather and desert monsters are definitely why."


    "What about sandworms?" Faith asked.


    "Sandwhat?" Emily asked.


    "Sandworms," Faith said. "They''re these giant predatory worms that crawl beneath the sand and excrete a magical spice. They''re blind, but they can sense vibrations in the ground from miles away. You gotta walk without rhythm, or you''ll attract the worm."


    "Those aren''t real," I said dryly. "Uncle Frederick made them up for a story he published a hundred and fifty years ago."


    "...Oh," Faith said quietly.


    "Ugh, that story pissed me off so much," Talia muttered. "Desert-adapted creatures are smaller than normal, because bigger creatures are at a bigger risk of overheating, and they take more food to stay alive. Now, there are snakes in the desert, and a lot of them are ambush predators who hide beneath the sand, so you''ve gotta watch your step, but it''s not a ''walk without rhythm'' type thing, either."


    "How many snakes do you expect to see in the Black Desert?" I asked.


    "...Maybe one, if we''re lucky," Talia admitted.


    "More if we aren''t?" Emily asked.


    "No, zero if we aren''t," Talia said. "Desert snakes aren''t adapted for taking down prey as big as a human- getting bitten by one is gonna hurt, but between you, me, Faith, and Joseph''s little regeneration amulet, we should be fine."


    "Regeneration amulet?" Emily asked.


    "It''s a long story, but..." I hummed. "...Well, hell, we''ve got time."


    ---


    By the time I finished relating the events of the statue hunt to Emily, with a few interjections from Talia and Emily for the parts I wasn''t there for or had simply left out for reasons they disagreed with, we had finished our meal, and were now sitting on the couches around our little coffee table. Each couch was sized for three people, or one person laying down across them, and we also had two armchairs, making for a total of eight seats.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Across from me, Talia was laid out on the other couch, with Faith sprawled atop her, the two of them casually cuddling in a way that told me, even if I really wanted to get rid of Faith, it would be very hard.


    And sitting next to me on our own couch was Emily, who was fidgeting a little.


    "And then the next day," I said, "I got a letter from your mom, walked up to the palace, and you were there for the rest of it." Aside from the part where Duchess Melody cheated on her husband with an elf the same age as her own daughter, but I wasn''t going to say that out loud.


    "I see," Emily said, nodding slowly.


    "...So, what''s up?" I asked.


    "I, um..." Emily trailed off, blushing a little and looking away... and, coincidentally, looking at Talia and Faith, who were just casually cuddling.


    "I''m gonna go out on a limb here and guess that you want a hug, or some other kind of affection, but you''re not sure how to ask for that," I said. "Well, congratulations, Emily: you live with elves, and we tend to be pretty casual and open with physical affection."


    "...thank you," she all but whispered, before turning and latching onto me like a pleasantly well-padded limpet.


    I hummed quietly to myself as I returned the hug, turning to face her and swinging my legs up and onto the couch for the optimally comfortable cuddling position. Perhaps I was just letting my libido get ahead of me, here, but... Was there any chance of me talking Emily into my bed? And, well, if there was, why would I do that? I mean, okay, obviously Emily is already a very attractive and curvaceous woman, and therefore almost precisely my type physically, and given what her mother looks like, I''m optimistic that she''s only going to get even hotter for the next few decades, but even with all that, there was more to a long-term relationship than ''you make my dick hard; can I touch your boobs?'' There was also the question of personality, and...


    ...Well, so far Emily seemed like she was still in her ''shy around new people'' phase of our acquaintance. Just because we were more-or-less stuck in a house with each other for the better part of a week doesn''t mean I''d already gotten to know her, what with me spending most of our waking hours up front in the cab, driving the fucking van rather than hanging out with Emily and talking.


    I sighed, which Emily did not even remotely understand the cause of.


    "Is something wrong?" Emily asked.


    "Hm? No, no, don''t worry about it," I said, shaking my head. "Just realizing that this roadtrip isn''t giving me as much time to hang out and get to know you as I''d like, but... Well, we''re gonna be at Mount Fate soon enough, and we can just spend the next two months sitting around doing nothing but talk all day if we want to. It''s no big deal; I can be patient."


    "I could sit up front with you in the cabin tomorrow?" Emily suggested. "We could talk then, if driving doesn''t require too much of your attention?"


    "Should be fine," I said, nodding. "The Black Desert isn''t exactly a hugely complicated terrain, driving-wise; I pretty much just have to check the compass every once in a while to make sure we''re still going north. And... thank you. I appreciate that."


    ---


    Thankfully, smart design choices when designing the van were paying off here; using a touch of telekinesis and a bunch of mundane, metal jack-stands to lift the van high enough I could work on the undercarriage took all of five minutes, because I''d managed to forget where exactly I''d put the jacks in my workshop. From there, I did spend about an hour removing the wheels, folding back some of the bodywork- which was slitted and hinged to allow exactly this- and installing new wheels that the tracks would ride on, but that was still pretty fast for something that would take all week to retrofit to a different enchanted caravan that wasn''t designed with this in mind.


    So, about two hours after dawn, I handed in my parking ticket to the valet, and began to drive my van straight north towards the Black Desert.


    "So... I''ve been wondering," Emily said. "How do we know Demon King Paimon''s cult is still destroyed?"


    "Well, we don''t," I said. "There''s always someone stupid and greedy enough to try rolling the devil''s dice, and while Demon Kings have sharply limited resources due to Hell being so depleted, the fact of the matter is that five hundred years is a long enough time for Paimon to have accrued enough resources to kickstart a new cult."


    "Oh," Emily said.


    "However," I continued, "we can be reasonably certain that Paimon''s cult is still destroyed, simply because we probably would''ve heard about it by now if it wasn''t. Demonic magic is destructive stuff- literally, powered by the negative side of vital essence, the one that causes decay and death. Wherever demonic magic is being practiced regularly, people get sick, plants wither, and animals start dying. There''s only a small window of time between when a demon cult can form and when they get noticed by an adventuring party and then immediately slaughtered."


    "...Oh," Emily repeated.


    "So, we should be fine," I continued. "Right now, we should be worried about the fact that these tracks are making us go only twenty miles an hour, and we''ve got a lot of desert to cross today. Anyhow, what do you do for fun?"


    "Oh, well, um..."


    "Right, Healer training," I said mildly, nodding gently. "Well, what''ve you been doing to occupy yourself for these past two days?"


    "Reading a lot of books, mostly. Thank you for bringing such a comprehensive library, by the way."


    "It wasn''t any trouble at all. My uncle was the one who made sure I brought it, really. So what''re you reading currently?"


    "A book he wrote, actually," Emily said. "This one is about... giant lizards on the moon?"


    She continued talking, and I simply listened, soaking up her voice.


    It was nice, and the time began to fly by.

 Book 2 Chapter 10

    "Oh god dammit," I muttered, staring at the sandstorm on the horizon. "Well, guess I was wrong about this place having boring weather, huh?"


    "I''m guessing the black cloud on the horizon is a bad thing?" Emily asked.


    "Yeah, that''s a sandstorm," I said. "Like a regular windstorm, except there''s a lot of loose sand on the ground that gets picked up and thrown around, thus making it extremely inadvisable to be out there during one."


    "Aren''t we inside, though?" Emily asked.


    "We are, and it is the case that there really is not that much out here that needs to be avoided, so we could hypothetically just keep driving through it, but..."


    "But you''re stopping anyways?" Emily said.


    "Mhm," I said. "Because the engine has to suck in a lot of air to run, and I don''t want to risk it sucking in sand. So I''m just gonna... Kill the engine, shutter the air intakes, and we''re just gonna wait this one out. And while I''m doing this, would you mind running and fetching Talia for me? Oh, and tell her to put on her desert gear, too."


    "Okay," Emily said, standing up from her seat. "Be careful."


    ---


    Talia was just wearing her usual tank top and skirt when she came into the cabin, whereas I was already wearing my desert gear.


    "Talia, come on," I said. "Put on your desert gear, please."


    "Alright, alright, relax," Talia said, pulling the loose white jumpsuit out of her cleavage. (I had, in fact, managed to make her a copy of Duchess Melody''s own cleavage-mounted bag of holding, and Talia had fallen deeply in love with it, both from practicality and from just how enamored she was with her own boobs.) "Sandstorm, huh?"


    "Eyup," I said, nodding my head. "I''m gonna help you put up a quick weather ward to keep the worst of it off of us, but the edge of the storm is already almost here, so..."


    "Got it," Talia said, nodding as she suited up.


    Our desert gear was pretty standard for Adventurers, albeit with very new modern materials substituting for what used to be some pretty expensive enchantment. The main piece of the gear was a loose-fitting jumpsuit with integrated gloves and boot-covers, made of pure white fabric that was very tightly-woven to prevent fine-grained sand from getting inside. On our heads, we wore tight-fitting hoods of the same fabric, and then on top of that, we wore fully-enclosed helmets with big, full-faced visors that were traditionally made from enchanted glass, but on ours were instead made from a lighter, less-brittle material called polycarbonate that was synthesized by alchemists from mineral oils. Inside those helmets were some enchanted speaking stones, so that we could keep talking even in the roaring winds of a sandstorm. And holding the whole thing together was a deeply convoluted system of flaps and zips and buttons, all aimed at keeping sand from slipping in through gaps in the cloth.


    "Alright, let''s do this," I said, casting a modified shield-bubble spell on the door before opening it. This particular shield-bubble was, ultimately, quite simple: it blocked sand, because otherwise opening this door would let sand into the cab, and I didn''t want to spend hours laboriously cleaning sand out of the cab, nor did I want to burn that much magicka on cleaning it the fast way, especially when I could just block the sand entirely for less magicka.


    We climbed out of the van quickly, shutting the door behind us, and immediately got to work on marking out a quick five-point ward array. I used Arcane magic to create a more solid physical structure from the sand- just a simple ''sand to glass'' transmutation, which didn''t really make glass per se due to the sand here being rich in iron rather than just simple pure white quartz sand- and Talia used Primal magic to anchor weather wards to the more solid structure.


    Now, as it turns out, walking on deep, soft, shifting sand was really hard, and seeing what you''re doing as a cloud of flying black sand is descending upon you is also really hard. I had no idea how long we were out there, but it was too goddamn long, and only once the last point of the ward array was complete did I finally feel like I could breathe a sigh of relief.


    "Okay," Talia said. "We''ve got a pocket of safety against the sandstorm, now. Or at least, we''re not getting pelted with sand nearly as hard anymore."


    "That''s something," I muttered, before sighing. "Ugh. Fuck a duck..."


    "There''s something weird about this storm," Talia said, frowning. "Even in a desert, there''s a sort of ambient background glow of Primal magic- it''s everywhere, after all. There''s a little bit in every raincloud, every gust of wind... but there isn''t any here. It feels just... devoid of magic."


    "Huh," I grunted out. "So what do you make of that?"


    "Honestly? No idea," Talia said. "There''s just... I literally do not understand how that could happen. Maybe there is some Primal magic in this storm, but it''s just so weak that I''m not noticing it?"


    "Well... Keep an eye out," I said, furrowing my brow. "Hopefully we don''t have another sandstorm tomorrow; I really don''t wanna spend more time than I have to out here in this stupid desert."


    "I hear ya," Talia said. "My curiosity has been more than satisfied, I think."


    "Let''s just... get back inside, and get out of this desert gear," I said, sighing deeply. "Fuck, I hate sand..."The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ---


    "Motherfucker," I muttered, once the sandstorm had passed.


    "What is it?" Faith asked, turning to look at me.


    We were all outside, checking the exterior of the van- thankfully, my toughening charms had held, and neither the paint nor the glass were unduly damaged by the sandstorm. The engine, however, was a different problem.


    "There is sand all over this goddamn thing," I said, pulling out a wire brush and beginning to scrub sand out of the intake shutters. "Worse, there''s sand all inside this goddamn thing, and I can''t start it back up until after I''ve cleaned all the sand out."


    "What would happen if you tried anyways?" Faith asked.


    "There''s a lot of moving parts in this thing, and the grains of sand would get between moving surfaces and scratch ''em up real bad, until suddenly the tolerances are shot to hell and this thing either locks itself up or rattles itself apart," I said. "So, y''know. Nothing good. Ugh, this is going to be my whole day..."


    "Anything we can do to help?" Talia asked.


    "Honestly? No," I said. "There''s not enough elbow room here for more than one person to work on this engine, and none of you are machinists, so... I mean, you can sit nearby and provide moral support, but I wouldn''t blame you for not wanting to sit out here in the desert for the hours it''s gonna take me to clean the goddamn engine properly."


    "Moral support it is," Faith said.


    "Oh, and Emily? I''m sorry, but we''re going to have to skip tonight''s hypnosis session."


    "It''s okay, Joseph," Emily said. "I can be patient too. Take your time."


    I sighed, taking off my jacket; the long, loose sleeves were just too much of a risk around the moving parts of an explosive engine. Once I had the jacket off, I passed it wordlessly to Volex, and went back in with the wire brush.


    ---


    "I hate sand," I said, to nobody in particular.


    "So I''ve heard," Volex said idly, perched on the frame of the van, but still sufficiently out-of-the-way that I had room to work. "So... How''re you feeling about the girls so far?" I could feel a flicker of Occult magic pulse outwards from her, and I could even tell that it was just a simple privacy charm.


    "You''ll have to elaborate," I said, turning to glance at the rest of my adventuring party, who were sitting on upside-down tin buckets because we didn''t think to buy camp stools. The sun was setting, and while I had responded by busting out a simple magical work-light, they were responding by busting out a magical log to have a little campfire- that log would never burn to ash, but it would also never burn particularly hotly, either; it was nice to have, but if we wanted to really cook something, we would''ve needed more logs.


    "That''s what I want you to do," Volex said. "Just... Give me a minute of talking about your overall impression of each one. Start with Talia, since you''ve known her the longest."


    "She''s my friend," I said, shrugging. "Our personalities are compatible, we both think the other is funny and considerate and a good friend to have, and we also both think the other is very attractive. We plan to be life partners for a good long while, but are also aware that, y''know, circumstances and people do change, especially early on in life while we''re still figuring ourselves out. Maybe I will marry her and have kids with her, maybe I won''t. It''s all in flux."


    "Fair enough."


    "Emily''s nice, but still kinda shy, and hasn''t fully come into her own yet," I said. "I''m hoping that being around elven peers for long enough will make her start acting like a real half-elf, but until then, it''s hard to think of her as anything besides a cute, shy girl who I have to look after."


    "I''m pretty sure you think she''s more than just cute," Volex said, smirking. "You''ve got the hots for little miss Redwater, little man."


    "It''s not my fault I know she''s gonna turn into a milf," I muttered.


    It was a common misconception that elves, being perpetually youthful-looking, had a preference for humans who were also youthful-looking. And while it was true that a few elves were like that, the far more common opinion was that visibly-older humans were in fact hotter than humans who looked like they had just graduated high school. It was novel and exotic- the same reason so many humans had a weird thing about elf ears, and tended to draw elves with longer ears than we really had.


    The upshot of this attitude was that an elf courting a human in their twenties was not, in fact, a creepy old man who wants a wife who''s still young and beautiful, but, more likely, a connoisseur of the middle-aged and perhaps even truly old, who was simply getting in early, before someone else married her.


    Volex simply laughed, high and sharp.


    "Anyhow," Volex said. "What about Faith?"


    "Faith is... complicated," I said. "Before the War, she''d probably have just straight-up moved in with me and Talia by now, and we''d be calling her part of the family. But... Well, she introduced herself to me as a Paladin, and the bad blood runs deep. It seems like she''s slowly realizing that she''s in the wrong, here, but... She''s still holding on, because she feels like she has nothing going for her except being a Paladin, and she''d have nothing left if she just let go."


    "And what would you tell her to do?"


    "I''d tell her she''s eighteen years old, and I am the weird one for already having a vocational skillset," I said dryly. "I''d also tell her to try praying to The Mother for guidance, because she''s closer to what Faith used to think Paladins were all about."


    "I see, I see," Volex said. "And... you haven''t told her this... why?"


    "I don''t want to push her," I said. "Ugh. Finally got this stupid engine back together... I want to never do that ever again."


    Volex disappeared into a puff of smoke, flowing back inside the van and back up to her reliquary, still in my jacket''s pocket, and with my jacket likely being hung up in my room, allowing me to drop the engine hood back into place.


    "Alright!" I said, raising my voice a little and popping Volex''s privacy charm. "The engine''s fixed. Y''all roasting some sausages?"


    "Eyup," Faith said, holding out a long, wood-handled metal skewer with a nicely-browned sausage link speared on its twin tines. "You hungry?"


    "Ravenous," I said dryly. "Ugh. This stupid Mount Fate bullshit better be worth it."


    "Hey, actually," Faith said, as she passed me the skewer, and then began preparing another one. "What''s your plan for the future, anyhow? I know there''s something in there about unicorns, but... What''s your goal, after you graduate?"


    I hummed quietly, my mind drifting as I asked myself, ''what did I want life to look like when I was thirty?''


    "...Well," I began slowly.

 Book 2 Chapter 11

    Ten years later...


    "But I don''t wanna go!" Amy cried.


    "I''m sorry, angel," I said, taking a knee and hugging her. "If you really, well and truly do not want to go, then you don''t have to. But... If you can be brave for me for just thirty minutes, half an hour and it''s over and you can go back inside, then I''ll let you ask me for anything. So. What does my sweet little girl want for her birthday?"


    "...I wanna stay with Aunt Faith tonight," Amy said.


    "Oh, honey, of course you can," I said, nodding. "You know what? You can have that anyways. What else do you want to go with that?"


    "...A puppy?" Amy asked, hopefully.


    "Hrm... Well, the traditional age for that is seven, but..." I made a show of thinking it over, even though my mind was already made up. "...Well, why not? Sure, my little princess can have her puppy a year early."


    "Traditional?" Amy asked.


    "Mhm," I said, nodding. "I was gonna tell you soon anyways, but traditionally, when an elf turns seven, they''re given a pet. They''re taught how to take care of it, how to train it and socialize it, and in return, the pet becomes their friend and companion through the rest of their childhood."


    "Ooooh," Amy said, nodding slowly.


    "It also teaches you responsibility, and perseverance," I added. "There''s going to be parts of taking care of a puppy that aren''t very fun, but they have to be done anyways. I''m going to help you do it, and you won''t have to do too many of those not-so-fun parts, but you have to do some of them, okay?"


    "Okay," Amy said, far too seriously for such an adorable little five year old.


    "So... When you''re ready, I''m going to set this timer for thirty minutes," I said, pulling out a little egg timer. "I''m gonna put it in your pocket, and after it rings, you can find me or Momma Talia or Momma Volex and we''ll bring you back inside."


    "When do I get my puppy?" Amy asked.


    "We''ll go talk to some people about it tomorrow," I said. "Picking the right puppy takes time, and it''s important you make sure you get the right one for you. And for that, you need to be well-rested, especially after a big day like today."


    "Okay," Amy said. "I''m ready."


    I twisted the timer to thirty minutes, and put it into her pocket. "Wanna ride on my shoulders?"


    "Yaaaay!"


    ---


    "Robert! Congratulations on the Healer''s License!" I said, pulling him into a tight hug. "God, it''s good to see you again! It feels like you were in prison or something, you were gone so long!"


    "Nah, just medical school," Healer Robert Thorn said, smirking. "I understand the confusion, though- I felt like I was in prison too."


    We shared a laugh, and I turned my attention to his mother and hearth-sister.


    "Emily, Amelie, it''s good to see you two," I said, accepting hugs from the both of them- I clung a little longer to Emily, unable to resist the siren call of her plush, well-padded figure. "Thanks for coming. I know you''re busy, so..."


    "We wouldn''t miss this for anything," Amelie said. When we''d first met a decade ago, she''d been gaunt and jaundiced, slowly dying of liver cancer, and living off a diet of marijuana-infused butter and sugar water. Today, though, she was a textbook image of a perfectly healthy elven woman, with fair, smooth, unwrinkled skin and fine blonde hair like strands of gold, her figure more ''slender'' than ''skeletal.''


    She hadn''t gone back to Redwater Manor after her recovery, and these days, she operated a little bakery that dispensed all manner of sugary treats to the young and young-at-heart, alongside beautiful, flower-shaped loaves of most wonderfully fluffy bread I''ve ever had.


    "How''s Mom doing?" Emily asked.


    "Well, she kept the household staff in the divorce, and she now lives right next door to a Druid," I said dryly. "So I''m pretty sure she''s doing just fine. In fact, if you wanna go see her yourself, I''m sure you could just go knock on her door right now- she''s just not here because she doesn''t care for parties any more than Amy here does."


    "Thank you for naming your daughter after me and Amelie," Emily said. "It really does mean a lot to me."


    "Of course," I said, happily accepting another one of her soft, warm hugs.


    Oh, if only I wasn''t already fucking her mother. Elves didn''t have that many taboos when it came to sex, but as a Drama Prevention Mechanism, we heavily discouraged having ongoing relationships with multiple people who were in the same family- which had a slightly different definition than humans gave it, but basically amounted to Amelie being in Emily''s family but Patricia Whatsherfuck, Emily''s hypothetical second cousin who lives on the other side of the continent who I made up just now, did not.


    "Alright, well, I really need to talk to you more often, and get more of your hugs," I said, still holding onto Emily tightly. "But, alas, with Napoleon out on the frontier working with the unicorns and the Wood Elves, I''ve gotta be the local Big Man, so I have to go mingle some more. I hope I see you again soon!"


    "Bye, Joseph," Emily said. "Take care."


    ---


    As I was the current head-of-house of House Ironheart, that meant everyone wanted to talk to me at least a little- put in appearances, make sure they''re still in our good graces, and offer small favors to build up social capital- and by the end of my first big circuit, barely fifteen minutes after Amy had gotten overwhelmed and gone back inside, I was already well and truly sick of it. So, I told Volex where I was going, and stealthily slipped back inside my house, heading upstairs to the rooftop.


    It wasn''t just that space was always tight in a city, and High Elves were accustomed to using it as efficiently as possible. It was also that High Elves fucking loved sitting on top of tall buildings and looking at the surrounding landscape. So when Ariel Silver took it upon herself to rebuild Napoleon Ironheart''s quaint little wooden shack, she made sure to give it a proper High Elven rooftop patio to sit on.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "Humans are dumb," I said, adjusting myself in my seat and sighing. "I''ll take a canvas sling over a pillow nailed to solid wood any day- these things are comfy."


    I''d had these chairs for nearly a decade at this point- I''d made them myself from cheap aluminum tubing and canvas, plus a pair of hinge pins I''d lazily made out of a pair of nails. They folded up flat when not in use, and when unfolded, produced a low, reclined seat, perfect for relaxing by a campfire with a cold bottle of beer.


    I eyed the bottle in my hand. While beer wasn''t the preferred alcoholic beverage of High Elves, it wasn''t completely absent from our booze-making traditions, and I''d learned how to make my own while I was in college- at first just so I didn''t have to keep buying it from the damnably expensive Adventurer''s General Supply store, and then I started getting really into the craft of it, making it taste good, and Talia ended up getting into it too. These days, one of our more unique contributions to the community was the Ironheart Brewery, which made beer good enough that even dwarves would drink it without complaining.


    I sighed happily.


    Life was good.


    The door behind me creaked open, and I sighed less happily.


    "I''m impressed, kid," an old elf with a long, shaggy, blood-red beard said, walking past me and taking one of the chairs. "Mmh. Yep. You would''ve been a good King."


    "Do I know you?" I asked, as another pair of elves- a man and a woman, both with green hair- walked past, grabbing the last two chairs, and turning them to face me before sitting down.


    "You''ve never met any of us in your life," the green-haired man said. "We''re family, though."


    "Yeah?" I asked, quirking an eyebrow as a human woman walked past me, humming a little tune to herself, and sat in the green-haired man''s lap. She was... Wait.


    Hang the fuck on.


    "...Terpsichore Ironheart?" I asked, looking straight at a woman who was identical to the funerary effigy still in my living room, save for her hair being black and her skin being a light brown, or perhaps a dark tan, instead of the uniform grey stone.


    "You would not believe how much I had to fight Art here on that damn statue," Terpsichore said, her voice like smoky honey. "See, he wanted me to be remembered as the ninety year old I was when I died, but I wanted to be remembered as the thirty year old I was when my tits didn''t sag and my knees didn''t hurt."


    "What is- that-" I blinked. "Wait. You''re Artorias Wind-Caller? And you''re Elana Blackthorn?"


    "They are," the red-bearded elf said. "And I''m your great grandfather, High King Lysander Rosewood."


    "But... But, all of you are dead!"


    "So are you, Joseph," Elana said.


    "...Oh," I whispered. "When... When did that happen?"


    "Before you started vividly seeing your imagined daughter and her sixth birthday party," Elana said. "You''ve been dead this entire time."


    "Now now, Elana, don''t scare the poor lad," Lysander chided her. "Now, Joseph, you are not completely dead. You are mostly, and more importantly only temporarily, dead. You were shot in the back by the cultists of Demon King Paimon- they needed the innocent, virginal daughter of a powerful man to summon their King into this world, and they took the other two girls as a bonus. Paimon has no use for captive men, though, so..."


    "...What happened to not scaring me?" I asked.


    "You have a gun, a motorcycle, a Rosewood''s talent for the Arcane, and also Volex the Succubus who has already participated in the destruction of Demon King Paimon''s earthly cult," Artorias said dryly. "They took you by surprise last time, but this time, you''ll be ready for them."


    "But-"


    "You''re my grandson," Artorias said. "I know what it takes to do this, and I fully believe that you''ve got it."


    "And, well..." Elana shrugged. "...What else are you to do?"


    I sighed.


    "Well," I said, slowly standing up. "If I''m only here for a little while..."


    "That regeneration amulet your father gave you is putting you back together, even now," Lysander volunteered. "And as it so happens, I do have something I want to share with you."


    "Oh?" I asked.


    "First," Lysander said. "I''m proud of you, Joseph. You''re a good man, and I fully believe that you''ll continue being one, and help a great many people. And second... I know where the Dark Elves are."


    "I thought nobody knew that," I said. "Since that was the whole point of the Dark Elves."


    "It certainly isn''t common knowledge, no, but it took a few centuries after we escaped Annwn for the Dark Elves to make their exodus. And before they left, I spoke to a few of their leaders, and they agreed that, while they didn''t want just anyone tracking mud into their new homes, they didn''t want to completely close off the possibility of future contact with the outside world either, in the event there was an all-hands-on-deck emergency."


    "Then why the hell didn''t they help with the War of the Roses?" Artorias demanded.


    "Because the war didn''t get truly bad until I was dead, and I was also the only living person who knew how to contact the Dark Elves," Lysander said. "But, Joseph... There''s a cavern, deep underneath where the capital used to be. The entrances are sealed off, so you have to scry for it and then teleport down there. It''s about a kilometer below the palace''s ground floor, and it is almost intolerably hot down there- there''s a reason dwarves made their homes in mountains. There is also a locked chest where I stashed some enchanted weapons, but I really hope you never have to use them."


    "...Duly noted," I said quietly. "Well, I can feel myself slowly waking up, so... Goodbye, everyone. Don''t take this the wrong way, but I hope I never see you again."


    "Good luck," Terpsichore said.


    "When you see Helen, tell her to grow up and apologize to Ariel already!" Lysander added, even as everything was slowly fading out.


    ---


    I woke up gasping, which was a bad idea, because I had also been buried in a very shallow grave. I jerked upright, dirt sliding off of my chest, and hacked my lungs out, coughing up dirt, reddish phlegm, and a few chunks of something I tried to pretend I didn''t know were pieces of my own flesh.


    "Okay," I wheezed out, once I was able to somewhat breathe again. "Let''s... Let''s get out of this grave, yeah?"


    I staggered up to my feet, still not exactly a hundred percent after having been perforated, and took a look around at the remains of our campsite. The sun was rising right now, and while that was legitimately quite beautiful, I was a bit more interested in the fact that my van was gone, leaving only tire tracks, along with those cheap tin buckets we''d been using for stools.


    I reached for my magicka, called it into the shape of a spell Mom had drilled into me for situations just like this, and my coat, which had been hanging up in my room, settled onto my shoulders, giving me its magical protections, along with all of the very, very useful stuff in the pockets.


    Such as my motorcycle.


    "Alright, old friend," I began, climbing into the saddle. "Just you and me again. Let''s ride."

 Book 2 Chapter 12

    "Talk to me, Volex," I said, patting the pocket where my reliquary was. "What''s your read on the situation?"


    "We got ambushed," Volex ''said,'' directly into my mind. Telepathy was supposed to be an easy-to-intermediate trick for Occultism, and considering she was a Succubus, I was more surprised this was the first time she was doing this, rather than that she could do it at all. Except... No, she had done this before- back when I was fighting the King of Thieves. "You got hit by regular broadhead arrows, but everyone else was hit with alchemist darts loaded with a knockout drug. Then the cultists moved in, loaded the girls into the van, and a few of them took off with the van, with a bunch of them on horseback following it. Only a few cultists stayed behind to bury you, and then they left on horseback too."


    "...Alright, that''s less helpful than I was hoping," I admitted, before cresting a sand dune and flying through the air, only to land on the downslope with a puff of black sand before the wheels kept on tearing through it. "Well, I just gotta hope my horse is faster than theirs are; if this was solid ground, it''d be no contest, but here..."


    "You should be fast enough," Volex said. "At least, if you stop showboating and stick closer to the tracks. They already carved you a path of compacted sand to ride on, Joseph."


    "It''s less compacted than you think," I said, even as I started following the tracks through the dips between dunes rather than just plowing straight ahead. "Also, if I keep getting high vantage points, I can see farther, and avoid getting snuck up on."


    "Fair enou- oh, look."


    "I see it," I confirmed, before following the small set of tracks that diverged from the main trail. "Let''s see what we''ve got here, yeah?"


    ---


    Behind an unusually tall sand dune, a handful of cultists and an equal number of horses had made camp. They didn''t look like demon cultists- or at least, the drawings you saw on the covers of dime novels and comic books- but rather, like ordinary cowboys, albeit ones who wore face-covering bandannas and glass-and-leather goggles along with their wide-brimmed hats.


    From my vantage point just behind the crest of the dune, I could hear them talking, and for the most part, they seemed to be complaining about being out in this stupid desert for so long.


    "Look," one of them, who seemed to be the group''s leader- either officially or just because he was the biggest and/or most charismatic- said, cutting through the chatter. "None of that matters now. Just another day or two in this shithole, and then we can get out of here, and ride with Paimon''s army against those Paladin shitheads. Okay? We''ve put up with it this long, we can handle another two days of being in this stupid desert. So shut up and get those tents packed up."


    I took that as my cue to move, and with the grace and speed of a trained Mage-Knight, I leveled my gun at them, and perforated their horses and their bellies, dropping everyone to the ground. The leader, who had a glowing red pendant hanging around his neck, began to cast some sort of spell, but I put an end to that with one shot through the pendant and another through his hand- it took a lot of training to cast spells without hand movements, and I reckoned this guy didn''t have that training.


    "Hello, gentlemen," I called out, standing up and slowly walking down the dune towards their prone bodies. "If I''m not mistaken, you''re the ones who shot me and my friends yesterday, correct?"


    "Who the hell are you?" one of the cultists demanded weakly, barely managing to lift himself up enough to turn and look at me. "...That damn elf..."


    "My name is Joseph Ironheart," I said smoothly. "Grandson of Artorias Wind-Caller and Terpsichore Ironheart. The people who destroyed Paimon''s last cult. Now, here''s how things are going to work, gentlemen: I don''t have the ability to heal you, and quite frankly, I think you can fuck yourselves. What I''m offering in exchange for answering my questions is an instant death, rather than me simply leaving you here to slowly bleed to death in the desert."


    "Fuck... you..." another cultist rasped out. "Fucking... knife-ear..."


    I kicked him in the head, and started ignoring him.


    "So, basing your cult out of the Black Desert is actually pretty clever," I said, starting to pace. "Nobody lives here, so nobody''s going to notice the telltale signs of demon magic. I am of course going to have to kill all of you so that the idea doesn''t get out to anyone else, but in the meantime, it was actually a good idea."


    "Why are you bothering?" the leader rasped out. "Just kill us and be done with it."Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    "Well, that''s the thing," I said, squatting down to get a closer look at him. "I am unusually pissed off at you assholes, for the whole ''shooting me in the back, kidnapping my friends, and stealing my van'' thing. And it turns out, when people are angry, they tend to get mean and even downright cruel!" I grinned at him, tilting my head to the side a bit. "But hey, you could make it up to me by just telling me what''s going on, here, and then I wouldn''t have as much reason to be so mean to you. So! Who wants some forgiveness and mercy?"


    "Fuckin... Rich bastard," another of the cultists ground out. "Don''t know what it''s like to- mmphm!"


    I kicked him in the teeth, which did, in fact, make him stop talking.


    "I''ve heard enough indignant speeches from assholes that start that way," I said calmly. "Well, if nobody''s going to talk willingly..." I pulled out Volex''s reliquary, and hummed a little tune as I drew upon her power and skill.


    See, every evening on this stupid road trip, I''d been spending time with Emily using hypnosis to teach her the foundations of Arcane magic, and Volex had been spending some of that time drilling me in an Occult spell for putting people into hypnotic trances far faster than could be done with mundane inductions- at least, on the un-prepared; one of the basic skills of hypnosis was implanting triggers in people that would put them back into a hypnotic trance very quickly without having to use a normal induction.


    The hard part about the spell wasn''t shaping my magic in the right way, but in learning how to actually carry a tune with my voice; I was not a very artistic person, and even Uncle Frederick, who''d imparted some artistry on me, hadn''t made much progress on my musicality. Which was a shame, because he was the son of a famous Bard, but oh well; I only had so much time in the day, and some skills simply didn''t get learned. I was an elf- I''d have time for it eventually.


    After only a minute or so of wordless singing of a melody I recognized as a traditional elven lullaby, the cultists were all entranced, and I was able to get to work.


    "I am a senior priest within the Cult of Paimon," I asserted, mostly addressing the leader. "Your mission has gotten off-track, and now I''m here to fix it. But to do that, I need you to tell me what you know about the plan. Your only concern right now is telling me the plan, so I can make it work. You''ll get healed at the end of this, and be hailed as heroes without any more work on your part. You just have to answer my questions. Tell me you understand."


    "I understand," the leader said quietly. "I need to tell you the plan, so you can heal us and go fix the plan."


    "Good," I said. "Now... On the count of three, I need you to wake up. One, two, three." I snapped my fingers for emphasis.


    His head jerked, and he looked at me with deference, shame, and a little fear.


    "I''m sorry, sir, we couldn''t-"


    "Enough," I said coldly. "I don''t need your excuses, I need answers. What was the plan, here?"


    "It was going well to start with," the leader said. "We did that ritual to make the sandstorm-" Ah, so I did have a good reason to hate sand and decry it as ontologically evil. "-and force the party to stop. We waited for nightfall, when they were all distracted by their campfire, and shot ''em all with tranquilizer darts. Aside from the boy- wouldn''t be a good sacrifice, so we just shot him with a regular broadhead, and left him in a shallow grave."


    "And after that?" I asked.


    "We were gonna take the girls back to the Ziggurat," the leader continued. "Strap the Duke''s daughter to the altar, cut her palms into the runes, and open the portal that''ll let Paimon through. He''ll be really weak when he first steps through, since most of the power is coming from him, but after he eats her soul, along with the other two girls, he''ll have enough strength back to get things rolling."


    "Remind me where the Ziggurat is," I said.


    "It''s in the middle of the desert," he explained. "I''ve got it marked on my map- in my pack. You take it, it''s no good to me anymore."


    "Alright," I said, nodding. "How far is it to the Ziggurat from here?"


    "About a hundred miles or so," he said. "It''ll be a full day''s ride to get that damn caravan back to the Ziggurat, and if we don''t get the caravan back there, we can''t summon Paimon."


    "Now... That elven Mage-Knight who''s following us... What do we have to slow him down?"


    "Mostly just a bunch of crossbows and lightning wands," he said. "But we do have a for-real Hellknight with us, and if he can''t take that damn Mage-Knight, then there was just no stopping him to begin with."


    Fuck. I knew what a Hellknight was, and when Frederick first told me about them, my first thought was ''Wow, I sure hope I don''t ever have to fight one of those.''


    "Good work, soldier," I said. "Now... Go to sleep. We''ll get you fixed up soon enough."


    He nodded, and finally collapsed back into the sand, his eyes shutting.


    I made a quick search through their belongings, grabbing whatever looked valuable- a silver hip-flask, a pair of cheap mass-enchanted lightning wands, and a handful of small power crystals the size of my thumb- along with the map he mentioned, and finally, I took his goggles, his bandanna, and his hat, putting those on my own head to keep the sun and sand out of my face.


    Once I was confident I had everything worth taking, I put the cultists out of their misery with a few more bullets through their brainpans, loaded some more bullets into the magazine, and got back on my motorcycle.

 Book 2 Chapter 13

    "That was brutal," Volex noted as I pulled my motorcycle out of its enchanted storage cloth.


    "Volex, you''re my friend, and after your history of friendship to my family and service in the war against Hell, I really, really want to trust you and rely on your help," I said. "However. You''re also a creature of narrative, and this is the worst possible time for you to start setting up this stupid-ass betrayal arc."


    "That''s not what I meant," Volex said, her tail flicking from side to side like an agitated cat. "I don''t give a fuck about those assholes, I''m worried about you. The first time we met, you killed a man who had personally done you a great deal of insult and injury, after a long, drawn-out fight to get the blood pumping. Here, you just executed four men in cold blood, and I''m worried about what that''ll do to you."


    "I assure you: my blood is not cold right now," I said, climbing astride my motorcycle. "I have, in fact, been seething with rage since the moment I woke up, because I do not have time for this kind of horseshit!"


    "...I see," Volex said.


    "They kidnapped my friends," I said. "They kidnapped three young women- barely more than just girls- to sacrifice them to a fucking demon. You think I don''t care about that? That I can just shrug that off? Do you think, just because of my name, that I have a heart made of stone?"


    "Okay, reel it back, champ," Volex said, before snatching up a cardboard tube with her tail. "By the way, you''re forgetting this."


    "...What about it?" I asked, looking at the cardboard tube she''d picked up. I''d dismissed it as just fireworks- something they had to ease the boredom of being stuck out in the middle of nowhere- but evidently Volex felt differently about it.


    "It''s a signal flare," Volex said. "Light this, and it shoots off into the sky, and the cavalry comes running."


    "...Alright, okay," I said, nodding slowly. "I''m starting to see what you mean. Okay, I like it. Lemme set some stuff up real quick."


    ---


    After the setup was completed, I got back on my motorcycle, and raced off into the desert. This time, though, I made sure to cross to the other side of the main pack''s trail, and got some more distance before turning to follow the general direction of the horsemen, knowing now that they were heading straight for the Ziggurat, and where it was.


    "Perfect," I whispered to myself, spying the telltale dust cloud of a pack of horsemen and one caravan moving over the sands. I raced around them, and set myself up on the far side of a tall dune, before pulling out a spyglass and lying in wait.


    There, plain as day, was a gaggle of cowboys on horseback, surrounding a stationary, cherry red caravan. The cowboys had apparently demanded a halt for the horses to rest- it was hot, and the van was still fast enough that a horse had to gallop to keep up. The driver had gotten out of the van to argue with the cowboys, but it was too far away for me to hear anything, and I didn''t really care- I could guess that the driver was arguing that he should just keep driving, and let the others catch up whenever they caught up, because nobody wanted to sit around the Black Desert doing nothing.


    I spotted the Hellknight, whose own steed- a strange-looking demon, rather than a true horse- clearly didn''t need a break as badly as the horses did. The Hellknight was approaching the driver and that argument, and if I had to guess, it was probably to argue that they weren''t yet fully in the clear, and taking stupid risks like letting the van go ahead unprotected was just that: a stupid risk.


    I carefully pulled a slip of paper from my pocket with a few magical sigils scrawled on it, and then, with the barest flicker of magicka, I set it on fire. Five miles away, that slip''s matched pair caught alight as well, and hopefully ignited the fuse on that flare. The fuse looked to be about ten seconds, so if I was right-


    Ah, it was a five second fuse, even better.


    There was pointing and yelling, and the Hellknight turned to regard the flare as it hung there in the sky, before exploding into a bright burst, the faint sound arriving nearly half a minute after the light.


    The Hellknight turned to give orders to the cultists, before charging off alone to deal with whatever prompted that signal flare- given the sorry state everyone''s horses were in, he probably thought they''d just slow him down.


    So, now it was just me and Volex, versus what looked to be... oh, about two dozen cultists, I''d say. About half of whom probably had lightning wands, and four of them clearly had the glowing red amulets marking them as demon-priests- spellcasters, to be taken out first. The trouble was, they weren''t clumped up together, so taking them out with a single quick burst attack just wasn''t an option, so...


    "Volex," I whispered. "Can you do anything to clump up the priests? Without getting everyone alerted and angry and shooting at me?"Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    "Nnn... No," Volex said, shaking her head. "If we were closer, and had some way of convincing them we were supposed to be here..."


    "Y''know, it occurs to me that the only thing I''m missing that''d make me look like I belonged here is a fucking horse," I muttered, wearing a face-concealing set of hat, goggles, and bandanna. "And then I went and shot all of the horses at that campsite, like an idiot."


    "Honestly, that wasn''t a terrible decision," Volex said. "Horses don''t have the same endurance as a motorcycle, and you''ve never ridden one in your life."


    "Alright, well, onto Plan A," I said. "Shooting them a whole bunch and hoping they don''t manage to shoot me back."


    "I can fight, you know," Volex said mildly.


    "What happens when you get shot?"


    "I either drop and whine about it, or I turn into smoke and go back to the reliquary for a few hours."


    "Hmmm... Hey, you''re a shapeshifter, right?"


    "Yeah? Why?"


    "Can you turn into a bird and fly over them?"


    "...I can make it look like I''m a bird while I fly over them," Volex said cautiously.


    "Good enough," I said, reaching into a pocket and pulling out a few sticks of dynamite, followed by a cheap lighter. "Light the fuse and drop it on ''em. Try not to hit the van, but if you do, oh well, it''s pretty sturdy."


    "Where the hell did you get dynamite?" Volex asked. "This stuff is incredibly illegal to just own."


    "I''m a Knight of House Redwater," I said. "I asked ''em for dynamite, and the only question they asked was ''how much?''"


    "That would do it," Volex said quietly, taking the dynamite in one hand and the lighter in the other. "Okay. Wish me luck. And try to start shooting them after the dynamite goes off- I really don''t want to draw all their fire to me."


    "Of course," I said, pocketing my binoculars and inching down the slope of the dune. "I''m gonna get on my motorcycle, so I can have some immediate mobility."


    Volex nodded, and began to weave an illusion around herself- a simple visual illusion, replacing the presence of a sexy lady with purple skin with that of a presumably-typical desert hawk.


    I got on my bike, silenced the engine, and kickstarted it, as Volex took off into the air, going up in a spiraling pattern- I suppose she was flying with magical wings, rather than raw telekinesis. I saw her wings on occasion, but for the most part, she preferred to keep them put away, so people could have an unobstructed view of her back.


    "Aaaaaaaaaaaaand..." I said, watching and waiting, as Volex finally got to a good height and started to fly over the herd. She dropped something, and I started to grin like an idiot. "Aaaaaaaaaand... boom goes the dynamite."


    I gunned the throttle, riding up and over the ridge of the dune, already opening fire on the dazed and confused cultists. A few of them managed to point crossbows and lightning wands in my general direction and pull the trigger, but hitting a moving target was always hard, and I was a very fast target indeed.


    Once the initial ride-by was over, and I was coming around for another pass- zigzagging at random to foul their aim while I did so- I started to take more careful aim. One of the priests had his red-glowing hand in the air, opening up a portal to summon a demon. So I shot him in the head, and the spell fizzled. Then I realized the driver had just gotten back into the cab, and squeezed off another shot that, alas, hit the door instead, managing only to scratch the paint. Dammit.


    Then... Something strange happened. The van started to rock from side to side, and I could hear the sounds of fighting coming from inside. Was that-


    The van roared to life and took off, the back doors opening and ejecting a very angry-looking Paladin and an even angrier-looking grizzly bear onto the black sands.


    Hrm. Well, I''m glad they''re alright, but to be honest, I wasn''t terribly worried about them. I was worried about Emily, who was not a fighter, and who was, to be clear, the actually necessary sacrifice for bringing Demon King Paimon into this world.


    I hesitated, but... my motorcycle was faster than the van, and I could track it trivially, and I knew exactly where they were going. If I left Faith and Talia to fend for themselves, however, they could very well get killed here.


    So, I wheeled around and sprayed down the remaining cowboy-cultists with a withering hail of bullets, until they were all down, and we were safe to take a moment to breathe.


    "How''d you two escape?" I asked, as Talia turned back into an elf, and Faith let her divine armaments fade away.


    "We were tied up," Talia said, breathing heavily. "So I turned into a bear and bit a guy''s face off. Then I tore the ropes off of Faith, and by that point, we were getting charged by more of those cowboys- what the hell is going on with them, by the way?"


    "This is the new Cult of Paimon," I said simply. "Okay, well, Talia, do you think you can turn into something small, so you and Faith can... ah, shit."


    "What''s that sound?" Faith asked, turning to regard the steadily-growing thunder of hoofbeats.


    "That," I said, as our newest adversary crested the hill, "is a Hellknight. I thought I distracted him and lured him away, but evidently he didn''t get far enough away."


    "So you did survive," the Hellknight said, his voice echoing within his helmet. "Good. I was hoping for a proper fight."


    Shit.

 Book 2 Chapter 14

    A Hellknight was, conceptually, pretty simple: they were the demonic equivalent of an Elven Mage-Knight. A humanoid demon skilled in both weapons and spellcasting, pair-bonded with a larger, quadrupedal demon that had a lot of inherent magical energy but an impaired ability to actually use it. They were the elite, highly-mobile warriors that spearheaded the armies of Hell.


    And now I got to fight one.


    Yay.


    "Talia, horse," I ordered quickly. "Faith, hop on Talia and hold on tight. I''m gonna buy you some time."


    "What are you- Joseph!"


    I gunned the throttle, charging towards the Hellknight, gun already blazing. The black, chitinous armor he was wearing seemed to deflect all the bullets, but he wasn''t completely shrugging them off, either- they were, at least, irritating and distracting him, which gave me time to slip past him, drawing his attention away from Talia and Faith.


    I didn''t know what exact sort of demon he was- there were too many more-or-less-humanoid-shaped demon varieties for me to know them all, and he was wearing full-body armor complete with a helmet- but his steed was a grotesquely wolf-like monster that seemed to drool fire, and as near as I could tell, that signified a Hellhound- meaning that I also had to worry about the Hellknight''s mount breathing fire.


    The next time my dad tries to play the "I fought in the War of the Roses" card in an argument, I''m going to point out that I had to fight a Hellknight when I was eighteen.


    Well. Assuming I survived this, anyhow. Which was a hell of an assumption.


    I zipped past the Hellknight, narrowly dodging a burst of hellfire from the Hellknight''s hand- good god I wish they''d stop using "hell-" as a prefix for all things demonic, it sounds ridiculous when you''re talking about actual demons for long enough- and whipped around to see... Talia still in the shape of an elf, having ignored my order to turn into a horse.


    But, well, it made sense. I was a knight- I saw a mounted opponent and immediately thought to have a mounted duel, because that''s what I was trained for. Talia was not a knight, she was a Druid, and quite aside from the fact that mounted combat was hard and she''d never been taught how to do that, she was, first and foremost, a spellcaster.


    And right now, she was casting a spell to summon up an elemental spirit, which was rapidly coalescing from black sand into the shape of some strange four-legged beast, which reminded me more of a lizard than a mammal.


    Right. Here''s hoping that hellfire does not turn out to be a hard counter to a sand elemental.


    I kicked my bike back in gear, and sped down towards the Hellknight, who now had to deal with both the Mage-Knight coming at him from one side and the sand elemental coming at him from the other. Evidently, though, I was judged the bigger threat, as the Hellknight turned to face me, shooting off a barrage of firebolts in my general direction that''d be abominably hard to duck and weave through.


    I cast a quick fire-aspected shielding spell, and then did my best to weave through the gaps. I still got clipped by a few of them, but aside from a bit of drained magicka, I was fine, and got close enough that the Hellknight couldn''t rely on spells anymore.


    Steel rang against steel, as I deflected her sword with my own.


    Once upon a time, I''d wanted to make my own sword. I was a machinist, I knew how to turn metal into finished goods. But then I learned more about metallurgy, and the fact that, no, a sword really did have to be forged, not machined, and also that, no, I did not want to spend the years it''d take to learn how to forge well enough to make a sword that was actually good. Not when I had a much better alternative.


    Frederick Ironheart had already learned the art of the forge, in his youth, and had produced a number of high-quality swords for Mage-Knights and soldiers alike. But a few swords he''d made, he kept, in pristine condition, waiting for the right moment. And when his nephew needed a sword of his own? Well, what moment would possibly be more right than that?This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    I kept going after the impact, my arm a little jarred, but otherwise unharmed. Frederick''s work was ostentatiously plain and undecorated, but he could get away with that for a reason: it really was just that good, even before it was enchanted by an ancient archmage, and could stand up to a high-speed impact with a Hellknight''s sword without so much as a nick in the blade.


    Unfortunately, it turned out that a Hellhound could turn on a dime, and now I had an angry Hellknight at my back, with only speed as my recourse. Talia and Faith were right in front of me, so I had to do some turning to keep the Hellknight from barreling into them, but I could manage it, especially with some quick magic to harden the sand beneath my tires for better grip. Plus, if I did it just right...


    "Hell yeah!" Talia crowed, as the sand elemental collided with the Hellknight, catching him in the side at the apex of a powerful leap. The ensuing struggle was brief, and did not end in the sand elemental''s favor, but it wasn''t a clean victory for the Hellknight- in the initial impact, before hellfire could roast the sand elemental into molten glass, the elemental had managed to dislodge the Hellknight''s helmet (hellmet? No, no, that''s stupid), revealing...


    ...Ah, shit, that''s another goddamn Succubus. She''s got her own Occult bullshit, and this is a Big Dramatic Twist, and she''s gonna capitalize on that.


    "Is this the best the mortal plane can muster?" she demanded, as I skidded to a stop and turned to face her. "A half-trained Mage-Knight on a bicycle and a lizard made of sand? Your decadent softness will be the end of you."


    I scowled; I did not like where this was going. If she wasn''t an Occultist, I wouldn''t bother listening to her- I simply did not care what the denizens of Hell thought, and I especially did not care about what the followers of Paimon, who had killed me, kidnapped my friends, and stolen my van, thought. But... Well, she was an Occultist, and I needed to know what kind of story she was trying to tell here, and why the shape of that story ensured her victory.


    "I''m 18 years old," I said dryly. "And so far, you have failed to so much as draw my blood. Tell me, what exactly makes you think you''re winning, here?"


    She was gonna monologue anyways- why not give her a prompt to get it all out more efficiently, so I have to listen to as little of her bullshit in the process?


    "It''s an inevitability," she said. "King Lysander, forged in the fires of the Fairy Rebellion, was the greatest fighter who ever lived, and millennia of the Dark Crusades kept him sharp. But Lucifer is gone, and so is Lysander; you and your kind have known nothing but peace, and soft times make soft men."


    Oh no. Ohhhh not this bullshit.


    "The fires and trials and miseries of Hell have hardened me, made me strong," she continued. "Steel sharpens steel, and this blade will-"


    She was cut off by a force bolt to the face, being very nearly unseated by the impact.


    "I do not care," I began, loudly, "about the stupid lies you tell yourself about why it''s not only normal but good that your parents hit you when you were a child. I don''t care about your miserable, self-serving worldview of victims and victimizers, where kindness is somehow a worse cruelty than torture. I don''t care about your excuses. So do me one little kindness and shut the fuck up, before I come over there and make you."


    When I looked back on this moment, I''d view it as the Occult equivalent of a counterspell, dismantling the narrative she peddled to replace it with my own, stronger narrative. In the moment, however, I wasn''t thinking about it in such cold, detached terms. She was wrong, both factually and morally, and I was right.


    I gunned the throttle one last time, sword raised to finally finish this farce of a fight. She spurred her own mount towards me, a fierce scowl upon her face that was spoiled by the blood leaking from the corner of her mouth, her own sword- visibly chipped where it had impacted my own- raised to meet me.


    In the middle, we collided. My own sword went through her eye, through the gap in her skull, through her brain, and managed to punch through the solid bone in the back of her skull.


    Her sword, taking a path of lesser resistance, slipped between my ribs, and into my heart.

 Book 2 Chapter 15

    "Hello, Joseph. We need to talk."


    I sighed, realizing that, yep, I was in fact dead again. I didn''t like that I could already tell just from the feel alone, but... Oh well. Not like I could do much about it.


    "Let me guess, you''re another ancestor of mine with unsolicited advice," I said. "Perhaps my maternal grandfather?" I opened my eyes, and beheld... "...Napoleon Ironheart is not dead."


    "No, but he is your father," the being wearing the face of my father said. "Now, Joseph. I''m given to understand you''re fighting the cult of Demon King Paimon, am I correct?"


    "...Yeah, I am," I said. "Well. I was, before I died."


    "Your death is only temporary," he said. "You''ll live. But before I send you back, we need to discuss a few things. You see, as it stands, there are only three possible outcomes: One, you successfully rescue Emily from the cult before they make it to the ziggurat and use her to summon Paimon. Two, you fail to stop the cult at all, and Paimon regains his strength quickly enough to run wild on the mortal plane. Three: You prove yourself as Lysander''s heir and kill Paimon yourself with your bare hands."


    "...What are the probabilities of those outcomes?" I asked. "Because those don''t sound like they''re all equal probabilities."


    "Ten percent, sixty percent, thirty percent," he said.


    "...One in three isn''t great odds, but it''s honestly better than I expected for me trying to fight a Demon King," I said. "Wasn''t Lysander already twelve hundred years old in the first Dark Crusade?"


    "The odds are better than you think," he said. "The possibilities where you fail completely include the possibilities where you run away, or simply die on the way to the ziggurat- once we narrow down the possibilities to those where you fight Demon King Paimon, the odds become very nearly a fair fight."


    I grunted. That was... actually, good news.


    "So, if I kill Paimon, what happens next?" I asked. "Is that gonna go like Lysander killing Lucifer, and we''re gonna have a new Dark Lord haunting the world for thousands of years?"


    "No, it won''t," he said, shaking his head. "The Hikaano do not like this fact, but metaphysically, the only difference between Demon Kings and Living Gods is that Demon Kings happen to be from Hell and preferentially use negatively-aspected vital essence. As such, just like Living Gods, Demon Kings can be killed, and their deaths go in one of three ways. The most permanent way to kill a Living God is to wield the Aspect of another god against them, which will completely destroy their divine mantle. As you are not bonded to any god at all, this way is wholly unavailable to you."


    "That''s not for a lack of trying on my part, you know," I protested. "Anyhow, what about Faith? She''s a Paladin, and bonded to a god who has already killed a Demon King."


    "Hano''s aspect is... situationally inappropriate," he said carefully. "Faith would do no better against Paimon than you would. Now, the common way to kill a Living God is to kill them without wielding any divine Aspect against them, and this will simply cause them to reincarnate- the Dark Lord actually reincarnated within a year of each death, it simply took multiple centuries for one of those reincarnations to successfully conquer the orcs and begin a Dark Crusade."


    "Huh. The more you know."


    "And that simply will not happen with Paimon, due to the peculiarities of his own Aspect," he said, sighing. "The third way is to turn a Living God''s own Aspect against them, which is called Usurpation for the way it directly transfers their divine mantle to the one who killed them with their own Aspect. Now, as it so happens, Paimon is the Demon King of Usurpation, and if I let you kill him as you are now, you will become the Demon King of Usurpation, and his soul will slowly come to override your own, until you give in to his soul and Aspect, and begin to do terrible things to this world."


    "So," I said, quietly. "Is that it? Is that the only way this prophecy can end, Father? In death and destruction from a mad God of Usurpation, with the only real variance being over what that god''s ears are shaped like?"


    "Of course not," The Father, Transcendent God of Time, Death, and Fatherhood, said. "You need a theology lesson, young man: I am not a purely passive god who does nothing, merely representing ''the world as it is.'' I may not be as active as The Mother is, but that is largely because I don''t need to be to get my way. There are benefits to being the God of Time, after all."


    "...Wait," I said, blinking.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    "Right now, however, I do need to act," The Father continued. "I must appoint a representative on the mortal plane, in order to kill Demon King Paimon and destroy his divine mantle. And would you look at that, here is a young man who has killed before and will kill again, who has died before and will die again-"


    "How many times?"


    "You don''t want to know," The Father said blandly, before resuming. "A young man deeply immersed in the history of his people, and deeply invested in their future, who does his best to understand the full scope of history, and who is a surprisingly competent clockmaker."


    "Oh so now you''re paying attention to my hobbies."


    "And who aspires to be a father, not only to his own children, but to his community," The Father said. "A community that, if he gets his way, will be very big indeed."


    "...Well, fair enough, I suppose," I said, sighing. "Well, Father, if this is what you intend to do?"


    "It is," The Father said, nodding. "Joseph Napoleon Ironheart, will you be my newest cleric, and take up the holy quest of destroying the divine mantle of Demon King Paimon?"


    I nodded. "I will."


    "Good. Now, at the moment, your tolerance for divine magic is not quite enough to do any meaningful amount of self-healing, so... you''ll have to improvise a way to save your own life some other way. Any ideas?"


    "...Actually, yeah. Yeah, I''ve got an idea."


    "Alright, let''s give this a shot."


    ---


    I was only eighteen, but I''ve been a machinist since I was fourteen, and I''ve been working on experimental and custom vehicles for a lot of that time, even if I did start with just steam engines. And since I had been a Wizard that whole time, with a very skilled and supportive mentor in the form of my own mother, Ariel Silver, I''d developed a lot of simple, niche, custom spells that I found very useful in the shop.


    See, when you were working on a complex assembly of moving parts that required a lot of lubricating oil to keep things from grinding and to act as a coolant, that meant there were a lot of pipes carrying flowing oil, and a mechanically-complex oil pump to keep the oil moving, and a lot of places where pipes joined or could simply be damaged and leak oil.


    The proper solution was to simply get better at machining so that you could get really solid tolerances and mating surfaces that sealed perfectly and didn''t leak, and/or slather a whole bunch of sealing compound around every single joint until it stopped leaking.


    My solution was to spend literal months of my life developing a spell slash enchantment that would both magically pump the oil and keep the oil within the intended pathways, with zero leaking.


    I''m not just talking about this because it was something I was really proud of. It had been hard, but to be honest a lot of the work was done by Mom, and it simply didn''t matter to anyone who wasn''t a machinist or the owner of a motor vehicle. I was talking about it because it was immediately relevant to the problem at hand.


    In medical terms, my heart had been punctured, and without immediate treatment, I''d bleed out and die in a few minutes.


    In mechanical terms, my blood pump had broken and was leaking everywhere.


    And adapting this spell to work on blood instead of oil wasn''t that hard, for someone with as much practice as I had.


    My heart did not beat. But my blood still flowed, I did not bleed, and life went on.


    "JOSEPH!" someone cried out behind me- either Talia or Faith, possibly both, and honestly, I couldn''t rule out Volex.


    I didn''t bother responding, because I did still have that damn hellhound to deal with, but my bike was fast enough to run it down and skewer it through the back of the skull. After that, I just rode back over to Talia and Faith, who looked deeply, deeply confused.


    "You''re... alive?" Talia asked. "How are... That sword''s going straight through your heart!"


    "Sure, but that''s on my left side," I said. "And I''m right-handed."


    "Now is really not the time for you to be a smartass," Faith said.


    "Yeah, I know," I said, sighing. "The short answer is... It''s magic. The heart is just a blood pump, and I''m a Wizard who''s spent a lot of time dealing with badly-made pumps that leak. I''ve got a spell for this."


    "...You have got to be shitting me," Faith said.


    "You know there''s other organs in the way, right?" Talia asked.


    "Wow, you make an amazing point," I said dryly. "I should go see a Healer, especially a trauma surgeon. Boy, I sure do wonder where the nearest trauma surgeon is. Oh, that''s right, they''re in my van, driving off towards the Temple of Paimon. So stop your goddamn gawking, hop on the bike, and let''s go already."


    "I don''t think I can cling to your back, there''s a sword in the-" Faith cut herself off mid-sentence, her eyes going wide as I pulled the sword straight out of my chest. "...oh..."


    "This''ll be a neat souvenir," I said, before putting the blood-stained sword into my pocket. "Now come on, we don''t have time for this!"


    Faith rallied herself, hopping onto the back of the bike and grabbing onto me tightly, while Talia instead turned into a rat and climbed into one of my pockets.


    I gunned the throttle, and we sped off.

 Book 2 Chapter 16

    "Doesn''t that hurt?" Faith asked.


    "Oh, it''s excruciating," I said casually. "Right now, though, I''m using some autohypnosis to ignore the pain, because it''s just not going away until we get Emily back and she can actually heal me."


    "...Do you want some healing?"


    "You should save your strength," I said. "I''m a cleric myself now, and my patron is the God of Death. As long as I don''t do anything egregiously stupid... well, I''ll live."


    "Hang on, you''re a cleric now?!" Faith demanded. "Why don''t you just heal yourself?!"


    "Because of divine burnout, duh," I said.


    "...What?"


    "You know how, when you cast too many divine spells at a time, it starts to hurt?" I asked. "Yeah, that''s burnout. Raw divine magic is corrosive to mortals like you and I, and there''s only so much you can use before it starts causing damage. If you keep practicing, of course, then you can build up a tolerance for it, but guess what I don''t have time to do!"


    "Huh, so that''s what it''s called," Faith murmured.


    "You really got shafted by the Guild when they decided to just not bother training you," I said.


    "Anyhow, I thought Talia said that whole ''building up a tolerance'' thing was bullshit," Faith added.


    "She was talking specifically about certain kinds of poisons," I said. "Stuff like alcohol, cocaine, opium- you can totally build up a tolerance to those. It''s stuff like lead and arsenic and the like where you cannot, in fact, build up a tolerance to those- there is no healthy way for your body to metabolize those that simply needs to be conditioned for higher capacity, and also, those tend to accumulate in your body in ways that are hard to purge."


    "Ahhhh," Faith said, nodding in understanding.


    "So, organic poisons, generally you can build up a tolerance for them, but inorganic poisons don''t usually have that kind of option."


    Talia, still a rat in my pocket, chittered loudly and incoherently.


    "What''s she trying to say?" Faith asked as though I spoke Rat or something. I mean, yeah, I had told her about Arthur, the pet rat I had as a kid, but Arthur wasn''t a magical rat or anything.


    But, well, I was an Occultist, so I could pick up on what Talia was trying to communicate, which was "shut the fuck up for once in your goddamn life while I try to fix your left lung so you don''t suffocate." Frankly, that was downright diplomatic; if I was in her position, I would''ve expressed my displeasure with an uncooperative patient using my teeth.


    Fortunately for the skin I had that wasn''t broken, Talia was nicer than me, and kept healing me, bit by bit, as we slowly caught up to the dust cloud of the van. I was immediately grateful I was wearing goggles, and Faith was very grateful to have looted a pair of her own, along with a lightning wand.


    "Dammit," Faith muttered, as the lightning wand failed to have any meaningful impact on the van. "It''s made of metal, how is it resistant to lightning?"


    "Electricity follows the path of least resistance, and the metal frame just conducts the electricity straight into the ground," I said. "I know everyone thinks it''s enchantments that do it, but metal armor makes you effectively immune to low-power lightning attacks."


    "What about high power lightning attacks?" Faith asked.


    "You might as well just make them explode with your mind," I said dryly. "And while I''d love to do that, I''m not in the mood to spend magicka frivolously, so..."


    I drew my gun from my pocket, and as a cultist leaned out the passenger side door to take a shot at me, I shot him first, right between the eyes, and he fell out and onto the sands with a satisfying thump, leaving the door invitingly open behind him.


    "Volex, now," I ordered, patting the pocket where I kept her reliquary. She appeared in a flash, one of my spare lightning wands already in her hand, as she lept through the air towards the open door.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Unfortunately, there were other cultists in the cabin, and Volex was almost immediately blasted back out by a burst of hellfire, dissolving her back into smoke and sending her back to her reliquary. I winced; she''d be fine, eventually, but this was probably the end of her usefulness today.


    "Shit," I muttered, trying to catch up to the point I could actually see through the door. Once I could, though, I found myself regretting it, as the cultist who''d blasted Volex had readied a crossbow, and fired as soon as I could see them.


    I threw up a quick and dirty shield to protect myself and Faith, but the cultist''s aim was off, and the bolt never hit my shield, which-


    Ah. Shit.


    I used some more magic to throw myself and Faith off of the bike, and onto the sands, as the bike tumbled beneath us. As much as I was trying to kill the cultists, they didn''t really need me dead in return, and as such, this one had been smart enough to aim for a soft target: the tires of my motorcycle.


    As Faith and I tumbled across the sand, my bike landing perilously close to our legs, the van sped off away from us, the passenger side door closing without a parting shot.


    Or was it Parthian shot? I know that the Parthian horse-archers were credited with inventing the tactic, all those years ago, but-


    "Joseph?" Faith asked, patting my face. "Stay with me, man. Don''t die on me again."


    "I''m alive," I said. "Just..." I closed my eyes, and sighed deeply. "Just... FUCK!"


    "There we go," Faith said. "C''mon man, keep that fire going. Get mad."


    I levered myself up, stalking over to my bike, already pulling tools and replacement parts out of my pockets. When I''d first built my motorbike, I''d just used standard bicycle wheels, but quickly realized I wanted something thicker and wider for this thing. Luckily for me, though, while I was (apparently) the first person to come up with the idea of "steam engine but explosions instead of hot water," I was not the first person to want a bicycle with a magical, self-propelled drive-train, and those also wanted bigger tires.


    So, since I knew I was gonna be gone for a while, once I headed off to Mount Fate, I''d stocked up on replacement inner tubes, tires, and even a few spare wheels. A worthwhile use for fifty dollars, which I fully expected to last me my entire academic career.


    There was just one slight problem, though:


    "God dammit," I muttered, as I unfastened the nut holding the axle in place. "Fuck! Ow. Ow. Fuck."


    Inner tubes were the only part that folded up small enough to fit inside a pocket. Now, if this was just a puncture, that''d be fine- the tire having a hole in it wasn''t ideal, and I''d want to patch or replace it at earliest convenience, but it would still work as long as there was a good inner tube inside it.


    Unfortunately, when someone shoots your wheel with a crossbow while you''re up to speed, that tends to also fuck up the wheel rim, and it was not running straight anymore.


    And the spare rims were in the fucking van.


    "You need help?" Faith asked.


    "Yeah," I said, nodding. "Turn that wrench, please. I''ll hold the other one, just... We need to get the wheel off, so I can fix the rim. Talia, you can stay as a rat for now, don''t burn the magicka you''d need to turn back into a rat once we have to get going again."


    Talia squeaked a few times- "If you''re sure about that..."- and remained inside my pocket.


    ---


    "We are really lucky you carry all this random crap in your pockets," Faith said, as I stood the repaired bike back up.


    "Thank you, Mom, for insisting that I get really, really good at pocket dimensions and Bags of Holding," I said. Otherwise, I might not have been carrying a foldable wheel-truing stand in my pocket next to the spare inner tubes.


    "Are those different things?" Faith asked.


    "Short version, yes," I said, nodding. "Slightly longer version, a pocket dimension is just a container that''s bigger on the inside, like the back of my van. A Bag of Holding can hold a lot more stuff for the same cost of enchantment, but it''s only good for holding inanimate objects- living creatures tend to suffocate in them after a few minutes. Anyway, hop on."


    A searing lance of pain shot through my chest as I put weight on exactly the wrong muscle, but I managed to not scream, and instead just lurched forward, making a strangled ''hnnngh!'' noise.


    "I''m- I''m fine!" I insisted, as Faith put a hand on me. "We just need to get our Healer back now, is all. C''mon."


    This time, I did manage to get back onto the bike without further drama or trauma, and kicked the engine back to life. We had a lot of lost time to make up for- unfucking the wheel and getting the bike back in working order had taken us forty three minutes and twenty seven seconds, according to The Father''s "gift" of perfect timekeeping- but fortunately for us, we already knew the bike was faster than the van, and could catch up, given enough time.


    Considering how close we were to the Ziggurat, though, I could only pray we''d make it there before they did.


    "You think you got enough practice with that gun I gave you?" I asked, once we were underway.


    "It''s gonna have to be enough," Faith said grimly.


    Unfortunately... she was right.

 Book 2 Chapter 17

    We caught up to the van at almost, but not quite, the worst possible time- when they were just barely at the Ziggurat, where the remainder of Paimon''s cult had been waiting for us.


    I pulled the bike into a sliding stop a good quarter mile out, giving Faith the chance to line up a shot with the gun I''d given her. After this, I swore I''d be making a full set of guns for all of us, but right now, all I''d had to give Faith were a dinky little pistol that''d be useless at any range that wasn''t "close enough for me to use my own gun" and a long-gun I''d made for Dad as a birthday present.


    The long-gun had been created with hunting in mind, and as such, with Mom''s help, I''d been able to enchant it for silence, to compensate for its explosive kick, and most vitally, to vastly improve accuracy. After all, gravity and wind had a tendency to nudge projectiles off-track, and much of a marksman''s skill was in accounting for that, but since this weapon was new to us all, I didn''t want Dad to have to invest a ton of time into an unasked-for gift for it to be useful.


    So. Whatever was under the crosshairs when Faith pulled the trigger? That was what this gun would hit.


    "Any preferences?" Faith asked, shouldering the long-gun.


    "Mind the stock placement," I said, nudging it a little, before she braced it against the meat of her chest where it was supposed to go. That thing kicked like a mule, and an inch to the left was the distance between risking a dislocated shoulder and risking a bruise. "And... Go for the guys with red amulets."


    "Got it," Faith said, before taking her first shot. Up on the Ziggurat, a cultist''s head burst like a watermelon, and the rest of them started scrambling, realizing that we were in fact a threat at this distance.


    "Three more shots, then we move in," I said, as she lined up her next shot.


    Her next two shots weren''t quite so graceful as the first one- everyone was moving or hiding, and even with a perfectly accurate weapon, it wasn''t easy to hit a moving target. She still hit with both shots, but they were winging hits, that didn''t immediately kill or disable their targets, and only slowed them down.


    Her fourth shot, however, was straight through the head of the cultist who stepped out of the back of my van. He''d been carrying one end of a stretcher, which dropped along with him, and on the stretcher itself was one bound-and-gagged Emily Redwater.


    Unfortunately, while I was perfectly content to let Faith take a fifth shot, the cultists immediately shut the door of the van, and her next shot just plinked off the metal exterior.


    "Why''d you make the van bulletproof?" Faith asked, plaintively.


    "I had this delusional notion that we''d be inside it," I said dryly, before kicking the motorcycle back into gear, and starting to close the distance. "Alright, well, you might wanna sling that on your back and switch to the pistol. We''re about to have a lot less room to maneuver and take careful aim. Talia, whatever your plan is for the fight, get ready for it."


    Talia, still turned into a rat, climbed up out of her pocket, up my jacket, and then down my right sleeve. It didn''t take an Occultist to know what she was thinking here, and I carefully turned my arm over, so she could climb into my hand, which I cocked back, ready for a throw.


    Talia was the first into the fight, a flung rat transforming in midair into a flung bear, lashing out with sharp claws among the cultists, shrugging off bolts from their lightning wands with subtle Druidcraft that rendered her already-tough hide proof against anything these simpering little pissweasels could bring to bear against her.


    Especially once Faith and I got in on the action, dismounting the bike and opening fire on the cultists.


    "Get Emily!" I yelled up to Talia. "We''ve got these ones!"


    Talia nodded in acknowledgement, and began to bound up the steps, chasing after the cultists hustling Emily and her stretcher up to the top, before being jumped by a hellhound that came around the corner.


    "Oh son of a whore," I hissed, as more demons were summoned, and we suddenly had more fearsome foes to contend with than just unarmored humans with shitty mass-produced weapons.


    I didn''t bother identifying the demons besides the hellhound, admittedly, because none of them were all that more fearsome than the cultists we''d so far been slaughtering like lambs, but they still ate up valuable time and effort that we should have been using to stop the cultists who were carrying Emily, who had, in my momentary lapse in attention, managed to get her to the top of the Ziggurat.


    I sprinted up the steps, content to ignore the remaining threats- my jacket had armor-grade enchantments on it, and could turn cheap wand-lightning and crossbow bolts without issue- in favor of stopping the summoning of a Demon King, and reckoning that Talia and Faith could probably handle it without me.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    Judging by the sounds of ripping, tearing, and gunfire, followed by heavy footfalls coming after me, I assumed I was right.


    I took shots as soon as I could see what I was shooting at, but alas, the ritual to summon Paimon was either very short, or had already been done mostly in advance. In the second it took me to line up my next shot and kill the last cultist, he drew his ritual dagger across Emily''s palm, drawing enough blood to drip upon the altar.


    Even with the knife dropping from his nerveless hands as he lost his head, the runes graven upon the altar began to glow with a bright, ugly red, which spread across the wide, flat surface of the top of the Ziggurat.


    The Ziggurat itself, which I was finally paying attention to, was an honestly-impressive edifice, constructed from big blocks of hard, black stone, likely made from the iron-rich sands of the Black Desert by melting it together. The outer structure, at least, seemed to be built around one-by-one-by-two meter blocks, laid in concentric, stair-stepping courses around and building up to the flat-topped central pillar, with two-meter-long quarter-blocks placed along at least one side of the Ziggurat to form an actual usable staircase.


    The central pillar, rather than being visibly made of blocks, seemed to be monolithic- at least, on the top surface- so I couldn''t just count blocks, but I''d estimate its size at about ten meters or so on each side, which was big enough to contain an actual house.


    As glowing demonic power spread through radial grooves in the floor, numerous strange sigils and runes lit up and revealed themselves, until the power reached the outer ring of the ritual circle, which lit up all at once.


    "Shit," I hissed, as demonic magic welled up in the stone. The whole lightshow had taken scarcely half a second to complete, and at this point, I wasn''t confident I could actually damage the circle enough to stop the effect from completing, and the attempt would take all my magicka- which I was about to need very desperately if I was going to be fighting Demon King Paimon.


    A single claw stabbed through the fabric of reality, six feet above the center of the pillar. It descended about a third of the distance to the floor, tearing a long gash as it went, before it turned to one side, joined by more claws, and then even more claws coming through to grip the other side.


    With a truly painful noise, like nails on a chalkboard, the clawed hands tore the small gash into a larger opening, exposing the fires of Hell and Demon King Paimon.


    Paimon was tall, even hunched over, and not standing fully upright. From the floor to the crown of his skull, he was at least seven feet tall, with a pair of big, black horns that gleamed in the fading desert daylight, curving forward from his temples to bring their sharp points to bear.


    His body was powerfully-built, each limb being as thick around as a person, and further covered with shaggy brown fur. Scars showed through all over, as thinned-out fur that was lighter in color, showing that Paimon was no hothouse flower, and had fought his way to the top of Hell''s hierarchies.


    His arms ended in thickly-clawed hands, and his feet in long, taloned toes. From the base of his back extended a long, tapering tail, swaying slowly behind him with each step he took, through the portal, and onto the surface of the Ziggurat.


    Demon King Paimon stepped onto the Mortal Plane, but for all that the portal closed behind him... he''d brought Hell with him.


    "Mm, nice," Paimon said, as he laid eyes upon us. His voice was surprisingly clear, for an inhuman monster whose lipless mouth was quite clearly evolved for the sole purpose of tearing meat from the still-thrashing bodies of its prey. "More sacrifices. Gotta say, kids, getting here from Hell took a lot outta me, so you being here is much appreciated. Tell ya what, if you manage to say your names before I kill you, I might even remember ''em."


    I shot him in the head, which didn''t seem to faze him much more than a punch would, but did still visibly jar him. I could tell he was more drained by the ritual than he was willing to admit, but... still, whatever kind of demon he''d been before coming here, it was apparently the sort that wasn''t fazed by bullets.


    "My name is Joseph Ironheart, grandson of Artorias Wind-Caller," I said, replacing my gun with my sword, hoping its enchantments would be enough to pierce his skin. "And I''m going to put your head on my mantel, next to the other self-absorbed shithead who called himself a King."


    Paimon bared his teeth, and I simply charged at him. I couldn''t hurt him from range, and if I didn''t kill him here and now, then we were all fucked. Besides, if that was a glint of surprise I saw in his eyes, then I got the feeling he was out of practice with this kind of hands-on combat.


    As I drew closer, he twisted around, cocking his hips, whipping his sharp-tipped tail forward to try and catch me in the side. If I''d been a human, or simply bad at this, maybe it would''ve worked, but I simply jumped over his tail as it swept through the space my legs had been through, before bringing my sword down and through half of his tail, stopping only when I hit bone.


    Paimon screamed, and the backlash of his tail picked me up and threw me across the top of the Ziggurat, but I managed to land safely, coming back up with only a few sore spots that I knew would become bruises.


    "Let''s-" I began, before stopping. Paimon wasn''t coming at me for round two, and Talia was not ripping into him with her claws.


    Instead, surrounding him was a big, spherical shield of glowing red magic, which grew to twenty feet across before stopping, dumping Talia onto the stone, as her bear form finally expired, leaving her in the shape of an elf.


    Just what the hell was he gonna do next?

 Book 2 Chapter 18

    With the shield up, I couldn''t get close to Paimon, and neither could any of us. Nor could any of the ranged options we tried- a crossbow, a lightning wand, a gun- nothing. Light and sound were making it through, though, and I found myself wishing that Mom had actually taught me that Death Laser spell she mentioned.


    "Come on, man," I said, reaching into my pocket and producing a pair of steel knuckles, which needed just a touch of dimensional magic to get them to fit over my magic rings, but then fit me absolutely perfectly. "You really think you can stall us out, here?"


    "Stall, nothing," Paimon said from the center of a ten foot radius spherical shield bubble. "I just need a minute or two to recharge." As he spoke, he strode towards Emily, still bound to the altar, and my breath hitched. No, no. "Now, what I think would hit the spot right now is a willing sacrifice, don''t you, little girl?"


    His eyes glowed bright red, and for a few moments, Emily''s did, too.


    "That... sounds good..." Emily said, nodding slowly.


    "I''m going to beat you into mincemeat," I growled, as Paimon snapped the chains holding Emily''s wrists to the altar.


    "Aw, that''s cute, the little redhead thinks he''s Lysander," Paimon said, smirking as he put the ritual dagger in Emily''s hands. "Now, go ahead, little girl. Bleed for me."


    "Okay," Emily said slowly, raising the knife in her right hand.


    "You''re running on empty, kid," Paimon said. "Maybe if you weren''t so beat to shit, you''d stand a chance... or maybe not. But I am about to come back to my full, undiluted pow-"


    The red light disappeared from Emily''s eyes, and she plunged the blade deep into the center of Paimon''s belly, likely striking all sorts of vital organs. Paimon howled in agony as he stumbled back, the shield dropped, and as I rushed forward, all I could think was... it worked, it fucking worked! Yeah, Paimon wasn''t expecting it, and wasn''t anywhere near the top of his game, but it still worked! Ohhh, I am so fucking glad I had that idea when I did.


    ---


    "So," I said, as Emily sat down in one of her room''s folding chairs. "Given that it is possible for hypnosis and trance-induction to be done to people against their will... I suppose I should offer you an idea, which Volex will first confirm or deny as a good idea."


    "Oh?" Volex and Emily said at the same time.


    "So, I was going to do the induction the hard way, which requires the trust and consent of the subject," I continued. "Which, Emily, I am assuming I have from you, because you knew I was planning to hypnotize you when you followed me upstairs and had verbally agreed to be subjected to such?"


    "Mhm," Emily said, nodding.


    "So, I think I can, with your permission, implant a few triggers and routines in your subconscious slash entranced mind that will make you, effectively, very difficult to hypnotize by anyone other than me. Is that... something you''d be interested in, as a safety measure? Actually, Volex, would that-"


    "That would work, and it''s actually a very good idea," Volex said. "I say go for it, if Emily will let you."


    Emily wore a look of (truly adorable) determination on her face, and nodded.


    "Do it," Emily said firmly.


    "Alright, let''s begin. Take a deep breath and hold it. Good. Now, let it go with a long sigh, and close your eyes and relax..."


    ---


    Of course, that idea wouldn''t have occurred to me in the first place were it not for why Emily wanted to join the Adventurer''s Guild in the first place...


    ---


    "...Alright," Emily said quietly. "I''ll tell you."


    "I''m all ears," I said.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    "It''s..." Emily trailed off, and then sighed. "...You see me as a shy, sweet girl, naive and innocent, pure in all ways, yet still undeniably and objectively beautiful. That''s... that''s intentional. I was always going to be at least a little like that, but... I decided that I would lean into it, on purpose."


    "And... why would that be?"


    "I''m a trophy," Emily said simply. "To so many people, I''m a thing, and a desirable thing at that. There''s... There''s no getting around that, not really. The elves talk about how they don''t believe in gender roles, and how women are just as respected as men are, but the elves aren''t in charge- humans are, and humans do believe in gender roles, and that isn''t changing in my lifetime."


    "So..." I began, "...the Adventurer''s Guild is a way to reclaim your agency, and to prove that you''re more than just an elaborately-accessorized pair of breasts to be won by some lucky little princeling?"


    "It''s... It''s not just that," Emily said. "It''s... I don''t know. I think I could talk myself into being okay with being a trophy to some Lord on the Sunrise Strip, but Joseph, it''s more than just that. There are a lot of people for whom the beautiful, innocent daughter of a powerful Duke isn''t a trophy wife, but a material component. Bandits, demon cultists, blood mages, all sorts of villains who really do try this sort of thing. It''s because of them that I want to join the Adventurer''s Guild."


    "So you can be strong enough to thwart their plans, and protect everyone like you?" I asked.


    Emily shook her head. "That''s what you''re for. To be honest... I''ve wanted you as my Knight for a few years now, ever since I heard the name Napoleon Ironheart and learned he had a son my age. The reason I want to join the Adventurer''s Guild is because I want to attract all these villains to myself... so that I can watch them die in agony as my brave, noble Knight, pure of heart, reduces their ambitions and complexities and cruelties to the simplicity of torn meat and broken bones, as he feeds them their own teeth."


    I blinked a few times as I processed what Emily had just said. She was joining the Adventure''s Guild as bait for storybook villains so that she could then watch me kill them. That was... Holy shit. There is something deeply wrong with this woman.


    ---


    If there was one thing I knew Emily wanted, that she had expressed to me with her own words out loud, it was this: she wanted to watch me beat this guy to death with my bare hands.


    And with my steel knuckles on... well. I wasn''t gonna be the one to deny her.


    My first blow took Paimon right below the stab wound, spraying his profane ichor across my hand and forearm, and bending him over around my fist. My next blow took Paimon in the jaw, and he crumpled to the stone floor, his arms coming up to try and protect his head from my fists as he landed on his back.


    So I punched him in the kidney instead, feeling his floating ribs splinter under my heavy fist, and relished the howl of pain that this wrenched out of him.


    Faith came in beside me, but rather than trying to land her own blow, she simply grabbed him by the wrist, wrenching one of his arms to the side, and giving me a clearer shot at his head for my next blow. Talia caught on, and grabbed his other arm, and I simply straddled his chest, before beginning to rain down blows on him in earnest.


    He struggled, bucking like a wild stallion and howling with pain, trying to throw us off, but... He was exhausted. He had been weakened greatly by opening the portal, and Emily''s misdirection had taken even more out of him. There simply wasn''t anything left to him that would change the fact that he was being pinned to the ground, both arms being restrained by women who knew enough martial arts to put him in a pair of matching arm-bars, and who were finally in a situation where they could do the move to completion and break their opponent''s arms.


    And sitting on top of him was an extremely angry young man who, while perhaps not the strongest even in peak condition- which he was not, right now- did still have a half pound of hard and heavy iron on the end of each fist, and enough stamina to put them to work.


    Blow by blow, crunch by sickening crunch, Paimon was reduced, was degraded, from a proud Demon King, a Living God of the Cruel Wastes of Hell, to a howling, screaming, bawling, and whimpering bag of torn meat and broken bones.


    There was a point where he stopped screaming, when I crushed his windpipe, tired of the sound of his voice, and there was a point where he stopped moving, but... Either that was when he simply gave up the fight and accepted death, or when he actually died, I did not know. Perhaps one day, I would know these things, but right now, I had yet to consciously draw on so much as a single mote of The Father''s light, and I simply did not know at what point Paimon finally died.


    I only knew that, whatever that time was, it happened before I decided the story was over, and I could finally, finally stop hitting him.


    And at that point...


    ...it was finally, at long last, all fucking over.

 Book 2 Chapter 19

    Unfortunately, there was still more left to do, even after I crushed Paimon''s skull under cast-iron knuckles. I was just about dead on my feet, and nobody else was doing much better, besides Emily- and Emily was still chained to the altar by her ankles.


    I didn''t have much magicka left in my body, but I had enough for one last spell- a simple one, that broke the chains tying her to the altars. That was it, though- any further magicka I tried to use would be pulled out of my vital essence, and I''d suffer a nasty long-term injury called mana burn, which even a full-on Healer like Emily wouldn''t be able to cure, only treat. It would put me out of action for months, before I was finally able to cast a single spell again.


    "Joseph!" Emily cried, rushing forward to catch me in her embrace. "My hero, my knight in shining armor, I''m so glad you''re here. Oh, I don''t know what I did to deserve you..."


    "You could start by healing my heart," I said quietly.


    "Of course, I-"


    "Literally, I got stabbed through the left atrium, which also lacerated my aorta. The spell that''s keeping me from bleeding out expires in a few minutes, and I don''t have the magicka to renew it."


    "JOSEPH!"


    To her credit, as soon as she realized just how badly I was doing, she went into full Healer Mode, cleaning out the wound and also the impromptu operating theater with bright flashes of golden light. All I could think, as I laid down on the stone floor atop the Ziggurat, was that I was very glad to have Emily.


    ---


    "With your bare hands, huh?" Lysander asked.


    "Not exactly bare, but... Close enough," I said with a shrug, before taking a sip of that imagined future beer. It didn''t actually have a defined taste, the way tea and beef stew and other food I''d actually had did. Rather, it gave the impression of a beverage I liked and had made myself, after years of learning how to make it for myself just the way I like it. "Definitely close enough to be one hell of an Occult anchor. That''s the shit legends are made of."


    We were back on the rooftop of my house, in the folding chairs I would try to make sometime soon, each holding a cold bottle of beer, watching the sun set over the Red River.


    I''d died for the third time, on top of that ziggurat. Emily was damn good, but there was only so much she could do about a guy who got his heart perforated and then kept fighting. But, well... Everyone knew a good cleric could raise the recently dead, with an intact body, and Emily was that good cleric that everyone imagined. I''d be fine. Just meant more time talking to High King Lysander Rosewood, my great grandfather who was proud of me.


    "Yeah, no kiddin''," Lysander said. "You know, I was kinda leery about you branching out into Occultism, back when you first started. But... It''s worked out for you. And you haven''t used it to be an obnoxious twit."


    "If you''re gonna keep watching me from Heaven, you''re gonna be disappointed," I said. "You are going to start seeing a lot of me learning how to play an instrument, and it is going to be bad."


    "It can''t be that bad," Lysander said, incorrectly.


    "Great-Grandpa- no, no, that won''t work," I said, frowning. "I need some kind of familial address for you, but ''Great-Grandpa'' has as many syllables as ''Lysander,'' so what''s the point? But I also can''t call you ''Grandpa'' or ''Gramps,'' because that''s reserved for Ariel''s blood-father-"


    "We have no idea who that is," Lysander said.


    "Wait, really?" I said, blinking.


    "Helen was... oh, seventeen, when she had her first heat?" Lysander said idly. "She snuck out, found herself a handsome lad who''d been visiting the Palace on business, and a month later, she realized she was pregnant, and he was long gone, having never exchanged names with her."


    "...Huh," I said. "So Helen and Ariel are, on the scale of elven ages, effectively the same age as each other?"


    "More or less," Lysander said, nodding. "Now, if you''re done deflecting- I know you''re about to argue that your early days of music practice are going to be torture to the ears. But more important than that..." Lysander sighed, setting his bottle down and sitting upright, then leaning forward a little. "...There are a few weaknesses that need addressing."


    "Andy, I just killed a Demon King with my bare hands," I said. "I did so in a manner both more permanent and less collaterally-damaging than you did. As far as I''m concerned, I did better than you, and I''m not gonna let you talk down to me."


    "I''m not talking down to you, Joseph," Lysander said, quietly. "You''re my heir. My job is to help you, to make sure you avoid all of my mistakes. I''m not going to pretend that taking criticism from the longest reigning monarch in history is easy, but... I need you to understand, I''m not doing this as a power play. I am trying to help you, in what limited ways I can."


    "...Fine," I said quietly, closing my eyes. "I''m listening."


    "You need to spend some time working on your teamwork," Lysander said. "There were multiple occasions where Faith and Talia were present and willing to help you, but where you simply ignored them, and left them sitting on their thumbs."


    "That''s not-" I began.


    "You also need to spend some time training them," Lysander said, interrupting me. "I know that you haven''t even formally started university yet, I know you were probably going to let the teachers handle training them- too bad. You need to start teaching them now. Because I know why they didn''t contribute- mounted combat is hard, fighting a tough and highly-mobile opponent when you''re not mobile is hard, and neither of them had been trained to do that. You have, and you need to share that training as soon as you can. You''ve got your weird rapid-fire explosion-bow; that''s a good weapon, that you made, and I know you can teach your girls how to use ''em too."This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    "Alright," I relented. "Soon as I''m back on my feet, I''ll make another batch of guns, and teach ''em how to shoot straight. Quality''s not gonna be the best, because I don''t have my full workshop, but... I''ll make do, and it''s better than nothing. What else?"


    "Well, that brings me to another point," Lysander said. "You should stay off your feet for a little while. Let them take care of you. I know you''re trying to be the Big Man, carrying the community on your shoulders, but if you try to shrug off a perforated ventricle, they will kick your ass. Be reasonable about this, acknowledge that they''re capable adults too, and let them worry about running things while you recover."


    "...None of them know how to drive the van," I pointed out.


    "Volex will know," Lysander said with a shrug. "It''s Occult stuff- ask her about it after she''s done driving your group to Mount Fate."


    "Fair," I said.


    "Also," Lysander continued, "you are eighteen. This is not to say that you are incapable- this is to say that you are still young and malleable. You need to set the habit of taking time to rest and recover after serious exertions, if you want to avoid grinding yourself down to dust. So... Talk to The Father about time dilation, so you can have a longer break before you get to Mount Fate. You can spend that time doing things, but only as long as they''re unproductive and fun."


    "That''s..." I paused. "...Huh. Well, I could try making that braiding machine and using that with the straw bale from the Coursers. See if I can figure out how to make us some straw hats. Is that unproductive enough for your liking?"


    "Of course," Lysander said. "You can just buy hats if your only goal is to have hats, and making hats isn''t exactly a prime money-making strategy for you. I''ve been watching you for a long time, Joseph- I know you a lot better than you know me. When I tell you to relax and get some rest, I am fully expecting you to get bored of lying in bed, and get up to play with your toys."


    I opened my mouth to protest, then stopped.


    "...There''s not really anything I can say that''ll convince you that my machine shop is not just an elaborate toybox that I''ve managed to convince everyone else is a practicality."


    "You''re not fooling anyone. Even Emily can tell you love making things, and she''s known you for all of a month."


    "Yeah, that''s fair," I admitted. "It''s just... Actually, no, I don''t need to explain why I like making shit, do I? That''s what, like, every High Elf was like, back before the war."


    "Not all of them, but... a lot, yes," Lysander said, nodding. Then... he sighed. "When you see Helen next... Be nice to her, Joseph."


    "She''s got depths I don''t know about?" I asked. "I suppose whatever happened between her and Mom isn''t really my business-"


    "Oh, it very much will be," Lysander said. "And before you ask- Helen is actually worse than you think. I''m not telling you to be nice to my daughter because she''s family and she''s had a hard life, I''m telling you to be nice to her so that when you do talk, she might actually listen."


    "Okay, what the fuck did she do to this ''Jason'' guy?" I demanded.


    "Well, he-"


    ---


    "He''s awake," I heard someone whisper.


    "Lysander was just about to tell me what Grandma did to piss off Mom so badly," I said, my throat dry. "How long was I out?" I opened my eyes, and beheld Volex and Emily- Volex by my side, and Emily more in front of me. I could feel that my jacket had been wadded up and stuffed under my head, to act as a pillow. A nice gesture, but in all honesty, without its protective charmwork, I was really not liking the desert sunshine.


    "You were dead for three minutes," Emily said, drying her hands with a sheet of weirdly-absorbant paper- I had to teach her how to do that with Arcane magic, it was so much easier than having to wash towels. "Then you were unconscious for a half hour. You kept trying to wake up, but that would''ve interfered with the healing; luckily, Volex and Talia both knew some sleep spells to keep you down until I finished."


    "Fair enough," I said. "Can someone prop me up so I can drink some water?"


    "Of course," Emily said, nodding. Whatever shyness she might have experienced at any other time, it was gone when she was in Healer Mode.


    Volex offered me a cup of water with a bent metal straw in it, which I accepted without complaint. It rankled my pride a little, to have to drink from a metal straw- that''s the sort of thing people like Uncle Frederick and Amelie Rosepetals do, because they''re frail and feeble, and I am a healthy, vigorous young man, full of piss and vinegar, who can drink out of a cup like a normal person.


    However, as Lysander had pointed out... I was not currently a healthy and vigorous young man who could take care of himself. I had to let the others take care of me for now.


    It wasn''t like I had any other choice, but... well. It felt better to feel like I was making a choice.


    "...And can I please get out of the sun?" I asked. "It is... so fucking hot out here."


    "Well... there''s a problem with that," Emily said, wincing. "See, we''re at the top of a big pyramid, and, um... We can''t bring the van up here, and I really don''t think you''re in any shape to be walking down the stairs."


    I blinked, and then sighed explosively.


    "But!" Emily continued, perking up. "I sent Talia and Faith down to go get some stuff to make a stretcher, so we can carry you down the stairs. They, um... They might be a minute."


    I considered the situation carefully. Was this taking longer than I''d like? Yes. Was there anything I could do about it? No. Was there anything really at stake, here?


    "...I''ll live."

 Book 2 Chapter 20

    The ride out of the Black Desert was tense, but ultimately uneventful. Nobody lived here, and even once we''d left the black sands behind, it still took miles before we found anything that could be called civilization. Of course, once we did get to a town with an inn in it, we immediately stopped there for the day, even though it was only four in the afternoon.


    "God damn, you kids look like hell," the Innkeeper said as we staggered in. "What happened to you?"


    "Demon cult," I said. "We lived. They didn''t. Beer, please."


    "Comin'' right up, sir."


    I sat down at one of the tables, and sighed deeply. I was tired, hungry, and sore all over, but at least I hadn''t had to drive this time. I''d instructed Volex on switching out the tracks for wheels, so we could make better time out of the desert, but after that, she handled it all admirably.


    "I really hope the van''s water filters are good," Faith said.


    "It doesn''t have those," I said, shaking my head. "It conjures and banishes water from the Elemental Planes, and everything in the water just accumulates in a waste tank."


    "That sounds..." Emily trailed off. "...Why not just banish everything else in the water, too?"


    "That''s a lot harder, and once the water''s out of it, it''s a lot more compact and easy to deal with," I said with a shrug. "Of course, we do still have to dump it somewhere, but we can just dump it on the side of the road somewhere tomorrow."


    The Innkeeper brought us a tray of tall glass mugs full of frothy, amber beer, along with some baked potatoes loaded with butter, cheese, and a generous coating of crumbled crispy-fried bacon.


    "Fuck, it''s been a long day," I muttered, before taking a long pull of beer. "Mmm."


    "How is it?" Faith asked.


    "...I really wanted to like this," I said, frowning. "Never had beer before, and every elf I know who has says it tastes like piss, but... I mean, beer''s popular for a reason, right?" I sighed, and set my glass down, and pushed it away. "Whatever that reason is, it''s not because elves like it."


    "Yeah, that''s about what I thought," Faith said, snickering.


    "Well, if the beer don''t suit ya, how about some lemonade?" the Innkeeper offered.


    "Lemonade would be good, yeah," I said, nodding. "Would you mind terribly much if I busted out my kettle and made a pot of tea?"


    "...Well, can I have a cup?" the Innkeeper asked.


    "Of course," I said, nodding.


    "Then I don''t mind one bit. I''ll be back with that lemonade in a jiffy."


    He bustled off, and I began digging out my tea set, ready to brew up a pot of tea.


    "So how did you survive that ambush at the beginning?" Talia asked.


    "Oh, I didn''t," I said breezily, tipping about five cups worth of tea leaves into the teapot and triggering the enchantment to produce boiling water. I was a Wizard, and one of the first big projects Mom put me through was making my very own magic teapot that would instantly produce boiled water inside the teapot, and produce a specific amount that was adjusted to be appropriate for the amount of tea leaves in the pot.


    I had once asked why I hadn''t just made an enchanted kettle, and she told me that kettles were for people who couldn''t conjure boiling water from near the intersections of the Elemental Planes of Water and Fire. Dad then said something sarcastic, and the ensuing argument lasted for an entire hour.


    I love my parents, but also, they might be directly responsible for some of my more annoying qualities.


    "I died," I continued. "Went to heaven, met my grandparents and my great-grandfather- I have no idea why his wife wasn''t there, she''s just as much my ancestor as he was- and then I woke back up in a shallow grave, once that regeneration token finished putting me back together. Then I cast a spell my mom taught me earlier this summer to summon my duster, and I was back in business."


    "Huh," Talia said.


    "So I was right," Emily said.


    "Not even death frees me from my oath to protect you," I said with a shrug.


    Emily blushed a little, like I expected, but she also smiled a little.


    "Here we are," the Innkeeper said, bringing us a stack of four tall glasses and a big pitcher of lemonade with little cubes of ice floating in it. "Ah, you''ve already got the tea going, perfect. Thank you very much for the tea, young man. Or... Well, I reckoned you were young, since those two lovely ladies with you look pretty young, but hell, I never learned how to tell an elf''s age. Thanks for the tea, by the by- you just can''t get the good stuff all the way out here."This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "We''re all eighteen, yeah," I said, nodding. "You know, I feel like at some point, the Innkeeper''s Guild should''ve made a contract with some enterprising elf or another to get some actually good tea, but..."


    "Oh, we do," the Innkeeper said, nodding. "But elven tea leaves are worth their weight in gold, and you gotta have the training to brew it properly. So, a humble inn like mine simply can''t afford to keep the stuff around."


    "...That makes an unfortunate amount of sense," I admitted. "Elves don''t exactly like the market economy, so the fact that your tea supplier treats you with such naked contempt is perfectly characteristic of an elf."


    "I''ll take your word for it," the Innkeeper said, watching eagerly as I poured him a cup of tea.


    "How much exactly does elven tea cost?" Faith asked.


    "Well, I wasn''t yankin'' your chain when I said it''s worth its weight in gold- and that''s after you''ve added a whole cup of hot water to it," the Innkeeper said, wisely allowing his tea to cool down to a drinkable temperature rather than scalding his tongue on it. "It takes about two grams of tea leaves to brew a cup of tea, and last I checked my Guild Supply Catalog, just a hunner''d-gram tin of elven tea leaves costs eight thousand dollars."


    "Holy shit," Faith muttered. And not for no reason- that was the kind of money that''d buy you a nice house, fit for an upper-class professional and his family.


    "I don''t suppose I could convince you to waive the overnight parking fee, could I?" I asked, pulling out a fresh, unopened tin of tea leaves I''d bought from Antiope''s store for two dollars, the price of a ten pound bag of dried rice, which I then offered to him.


    "...Young man, you could convince me of anything for that," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "Would you like my daughter to join you for the night as well? Maybe my wife, too?"


    "I am, unfortunately, not in any state to be doing anything energetic or exciting for the rest of the day," I said, setting the tin on the table in front of him. "And, well... If you decide any of your kids needs a good excuse to live in Redwater, tell ''em there''s a place there called Greenwood Village where they can get this stuff real cheap, straight from an elf. And if they need help, just tell the elves they were sent by Joseph Ironheart."


    "Much obliged, Mister Ironheart," the Innkeeper said, nodding.


    "Alright, well, I''m gonna start eating now," I said, grabbing my baked potato and ripping off a third of it with my teeth.


    "We might need some more of these," Talia said politely.


    ---


    "Okay," I said, laying down in my bed. "Getting up to go eat dinner in there was... Optimistic. Ow."


    "Are you okay?" Emily asked, her hands already glowing.


    "It just hurts," I said, waving her off. "Lots of chest muscles around the heart- not vital for life, but still used in moving around. Lower priority, so... ow, fuck. Okay. Talia, if you could recharge that stupid amulet Dad gave me?"


    "Are you sure?" Emily asked. "I can finish healing you now."


    "You can heal the muscles if you want, but..." I sighed deeply as Emily pressed a hand to my chest, taking away the horrible, cutting pain deep in my muscles. "Mmph... I do want that amulet recharged... as soon as possible. It, uh... It keeps me healthy and whole even without a Healer having to fix every little sore spot I get through the day. Oh, fuck that feels good... Mmn... Anyhow. It''s an important backup mechanism. I''d feel better if it was fixed."


    "I''ll see what I can do," Talia said. "I''m not as good a Druid as your dad is, but... Maybe it really does just need to be recharged?"


    "Do you think that''s not the problem?" I asked.


    "It''s... Honestly, it might just be broken," Talia said. "If it is... I don''t know if I can make you a new one. Definitely not one as good as Napoleon can."


    "Dammit," I muttered. "Oh well. What''s done is done. I''m... Ugh. Fuck, I''m tired. I think I''m just gonna sleep, if that''s alright?"


    "Of course," Emily said, nodding. "Get some rest, Joseph."


    "Night, everyone."


    ---


    I drifted into and out of dreamless sleep, never more than halfway awake. But at some point, in the middle of the night, I found myself slowly rousing to my full senses.


    I had gone to sleep alone in my bed, but apparently, after the day we''d had, nobody else wanted to sleep alone, and had decided that I shouldn''t sleep alone either.


    I wasn''t sure of the medical wisdom of this, to be honest. I was still having a bit of trouble moving my left arm, after all. But... Looking at Talia snuggled up under it, her head on my shoulder, I couldn''t really find it in me to fault her. Looking to my right, at a sleeping Faith snuggled up under my other arm, her freckly nose scrunched at a dream that couldn''t possibly be pleasant, I thought about how much I used to resent her, and... gave her a little kiss, on the bridge of her nose. It wasn''t enough to wake her, but whatever that dream was, it clearly stopped bothering her, as her face returned to normal, and a little smile started to creep across her lips.


    Lying on top of me, face down, was one Emily Redwater, pressed oh so tightly against my front, not only by gravity, but by her arms and legs, clinging to me like a squirrel to a tree. She was stirring- apparently my movements had woken her up.


    "Mmmn... Go back to sleep, Joseph," Emily murmured, squeezing me a little tighter.


    I wanted to, I really did. I wanted to rest, to lay back and relax, and enjoy the cuddles. But right now, I just... I couldn''t. I''m sorry, Emily. I really do want to keep using you like a weighted blanket with big tits, but...


    "I have to piss so bad."


    Emily considered that for a moment... and then, with a put-upon sigh, she carefully climbed off of me, helping me up- without waking the others- and walked me, step by careful step, to the bathroom.


    I slept through the rest of the night, and much of the morning. Despite my aches and pains, and everything I''d just been through...


    ...Life was good.

 Book 3: A Tempest In A Teapot, Chapter 1

    I woke up at an unreasonable hour for someone in my condition, which was... about seven in the morning. Well, more precisely, I knew that it was currently 7:03:28 AM, because as it turns out, the God of Time thought his clerics should all know exactly what time it was at all times.


    I wondered, briefly, how exactly he determined what the appropriate time was; as someone who had built a working mechanical clock as a hobby project, I had been forced to learn an absolutely tedious amount about horology and timekeeping, and one thing I''d learned that would always be relevant was the slight difference in length between a solar day and a sidereal day, but another thing I''d learned is that, in the Hikaano Imperium, the construction of a train network forced the development of standardized time zones. Previously, every town and city simply kept their own local solar time, but now, everyone had to put up with the fact that their clocks were up to a half hour off of the ''real'' solar time, which... honestly, was not a huge deal.


    I blinked a few times as the instinct telling me precisely what time it was changed, informing me that it was 7:03:56 AM local solar time, and 7:15:56 AM Rosewood Standard Time.


    "Penny for your thoughts?" Emily asked, having noticed I was awake, but still just lying there.


    "Time zones," I said. "Can you help me up? I''m hungry."


    "Of course," Emily said, sitting upright and moving to help me do the same.


    "Is there a reason you always wear Healer robes?" I asked. "I was told you weren''t supposed to do that, or that you''re only supposed to wear them while on duty as a Healer."


    "Oh. Um... I''m... I''m always on duty as a Healer," she said weakly.


    "...Is it because the Healer robes are the only clothes you have that aren''t uncomfortable, fancy Noble Lady outfits?"


    Emily winced.


    "...yes..." she admitted.


    "Alright, well... We''ll get you some casualwear that doesn''t suck," I said. "Don''t sweat it."


    "Thank you," Emily said. "Talia and Faith are already downstairs, so hopefully they''ve made breakfast."


    "Hopefully Faith made breakfast," I corrected her. "If I put a gun to Talia''s head and told her she had to cook something that actually tasted good, she''d tell me I don''t have the balls to pull the trigger."


    "Well... Fair enough."


    ---


    "Oh my- Talia!" Emily nearly shrieked, covering her poor, scandalized eyes. "Clothes!"


    "Oh please, like you don''t see tits bigger than these every time you take a shower," Talia said, planting her hands on her hips.


    In Talia''s defense, she wasn''t actually naked, but in Emily''s defense, Talia was only technically not naked, by virtue of wearing a godawful novelty apron that was not only offensive to the educated eye on the face of it, but dragged my poor, hypoxia-addled brain through an awful chain of memories that constituted the story of why we even had that stupid thing to begin with.


    "I should''ve burned that stupid apron," I muttered darkly, before staggering over to the table and sitting down.


    Faith came in with a big plate laden with breakfast sandwiches, stuffed with sausage, egg, and melted cheese, and smirked at the sight of a fat, curvy elf wearing only an apron.


    "Well I think it looks cute on her," Faith said primly.


    "That''s because you can''t read High Elven," I said. "Emily can, though."


    "It- oh god, it says something, doesn''t it?" Emily muttered, still refusing to look at Talia.


    "Sausage for dessert," Talia said, grinning.


    "I hate everyone involved in the creation of this moment," I said dryly.


    "Is that-" Faith began.


    "That is, in fact, a dick joke in High Elven," I said, nodding. "It is technically a family heirloom, but really it''s just an elaborate practical joke that Grandma Terpsichore pulled on her kids, and which her firstborn son refused to throw away or bury with his mother, and instead, he inflicted it on me when I came of age, along with the realization that, technically, this thing is a family heirloom, and therefore I would feel guilty about throwing it away like the worthless garbage it actually is."


    "Wait, wouldn''t that- wouldn''t that make this a pre-War elven artifact?" Faith asked.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "Well, yes, but-"


    "I know, I know, you don''t want it, but museums will pay top dollar for this sort of thing," Faith said. "I mean, they don''t have to know it''s worthless garbage."


    "The last time someone tried to put my family''s property in a museum, I killed a man in the streets over it. The Hikaano can pry my heritage out of my cold, dead hands, if I don''t manage to kill them first."


    That killed the mood for a good few moments, before Talia gracefully revived it.


    "So, you think this was mage-woven?" Talia asked, looking down and pulling lightly at the apron that was surprisingly successful at keeping her tits contained- but then, it had been made by Terpsichore Ironheart, presumably to fit Terpsichore Ironheart, and Terpsichore Ironheart had been shaped like Talia Jones- which is to say, fat and busty.


    "Probably, yeah," I said, shrugging. "People back then were more patient than we are today, sure, but weaving by hand was still a tedious and time-consuming process. For an experienced Bard like Terpsichore, learning enough Wizardry to cast a mage-weaving spell would''ve taken less time than weaving all the fabric she needed to make this apron by hand. And that''s assuming she didn''t just get the fabric from someone else."


    "Wait, mage-woven?" Faith asked. "Do you mean, like, enchanted?"


    "Nah, just woven by magic," I said, shaking my head. "So- y''know how, these days, pretty much all fabric is woven by machines? Y''know, power looms that go through the simple, repetitive steps of weaving through clockwork mechanisms without requiring much human intervention? Well, before those machines, most humans made fabric by hand with non-powered looms, and elves made fabric automatically with enchanted looms, unless they really, really liked weaving."


    "Huh."


    "It was a common learning milestone for elven Wizards," I added. "I learned how to do it, myself, although Mom didn''t drill me on it too hard. Said that it was more for the sake of a cute tradition than because it was actually practical." I hummed quietly. "...Honestly, though? I think I should probably just use a mage-weaving spell to make those straw hats I was thinking about, instead of a braiding machine. Straw isn''t continuous fiber, and trying to feed it through a braiding machine sounds like a recipe for frustration."


    "You know," Faith said, leaning back in her chair. "When I read comic books and dime novels, and they portrayed Wizards as these strange people who rambled endlessly about the strangest, most esoteric things, I always thought to myself, ''That''s not realistic, Wizards can''t actually be like that, they''re just making things up.'' And then I met you."


    "He''s not like that because he''s a Wizard, he''s like that because he''s a High Elf," Talia said. "None of us can shut the fuck up."


    "Wizardry isn''t just a skillset I have, it''s the main lens through which I observe the world," I said. "There are so many possible things you can do with Wizardry, but Wizardry alone isn''t enough to understand most of them. As such, you need to be well-educated on a broad variety of subjects, so that you can actually do useful magic about them. This is, incidentally, why most Wizards are specialists who are only well-educated on two subjects, and why an Archmage is such an impressive thing."


    "Okay, pretend I wasn''t raised by a Wizard, and only know that ''Archmage'' means ''really strong Wizard,''" Faith said, pinching the bridge of her nose.


    "Well..." I hummed quietly. "...So, like I said, most Wizards are specialists, who only really do a small subset of Arcane magic. An Archmage, however, is a Wizard who has learned multiple specialties, which requires either an absolutely tedious amount of education or that the Archmage be a genuine genius who''s capable of teaching themselves complex subjects in a short timeframe. Now, this is muddled a bit by the fact that both Helen Rosewood and, uh... fuck, what''s that guy''s name... Right, Mason Orvo, both call themselves The Archmage of the Adventurer''s and Mage''s Guilds. Which of course gets into historical context where Archmage used to mean ''a mage who is in charge of a bunch of other mages,'' but I can tell from the look in your eye that I''m starting to lose you."


    "Yeah, let''s... Take another swing at that, but shorter," Faith said.


    "An Archmage is a polymath."


    "Don''t know that word."


    "...An Archmage is a jack-of-all-trades, except he''s just as good at anything as most specialists are."


    "Okay, got it."


    "And Archmage also sometimes just means ''a mage who''s in charge of other mages,'' in the same sense that ''master'' sometimes means ''someone with an apprentice.''"


    "So, Archmage means two different things, and those two definitions are different," Faith surmised.


    "That is correct, yes," I said, nodding.


    "I think," Faith said, "that if you try to tell me anything else about Arcane Magic, I''m going to jump over the table and kick you in the face."


    "Please don''t," Emily said wearily.


    "I''m just gonna eat my breakfast, then," I said, picking up my breakfast sandwich and taking a big bite. "...Mmf. This is really good. Faith, I am really glad you actually know how to cook."


    "I had some help, but... Thanks."


    We ate our breakfast without too much more chatter, and then Volex strutted back in from the cab.


    "Good news, everyone," Volex said. "We''re making good time, and we''ll be at Mount Fate in time for an early lunch. Gods willing, we''ll be done with this stupid road trip before the sun goes down."


    A cheer went up, until Faith made an excellent point:


    "Hang on, nothing''s gonna change," Faith said. "We''re still gonna be sleeping in a van."


    "Yeah, but now you can go outside," I pointed out.


    "...Oh yeah..."


    And just like that, all was right again.

 Book 3 Chapter 2

    The world, in its entirety, has always existed. Terra nullius is a lie- if it was livable, someone lived there. And for the northernmost edge of the continent, which went nearly to the equator, that ''someone'' had, historically, been the Green Orcs.


    The Green Orcs were, themselves, split into two rough camps: the settled Green Orcs, who lived in cities and farming villages in a long, thin river valley that clearly marked the borders of the Mesa Verde, and the nomadic Green Orcs, who lived on the arid Mesa Verde itself, herding sheep across the grasslands and fighting off encroaching cowboys with bows from horseback.


    Mount Fate itself was just on the other side of the river valley from the Mesa Verde, and for as long as there had been a town built around its base, there had always been Green Orcs in it... despite intermittent efforts by the Hikaano to remove them. Those efforts, bloody and atrocious as they may be, had never really worked, and today, as we pulled into the town named after the mountain next door, it was to get a late breakfast at a little local restaurant run by a family of Green Orcs.


    "What would you recommend to someone who''s feeling adventurous?" I asked.


    "A glass of milk," the waitress, a young orcish woman named Estefania, said with a toothy smirk. "We don''t get many Adventurers in here, mostly just locals, and around here, we really like our peppers."


    Like most Green Orcs around here, her skin was a bright, leafy green, although I''d been told that orcish skin tone spanned the same sort of range as humans did, and there were Green Orcs whose skin was more of a dark greenish-brown; mostly out on the Mesa Verde, but people moved around. She also had the characteristic strong jaw, a slight underbite, and unusually long and pointed canines that were visible when she spoke.


    Overall, while orcs couldn''t pass themselves as human as easily as elves could- for us, all it took was a hairstyle or hat that covered our ears- they still looked human enough that marriages with other humanoids happened all the time.


    "Elves don''t even notice that kind of heat," I said with a shrug. "So don''t worry."


    "Yeah, yeah, you''re tough as nails, I get it. Listen-"


    "No, he''s serious," Talia said. "Elves are immune to capsaicin, the chemical that makes peppers taste like burning. Nobody really knows why, we just... are. Weirdest thing. Makes for a neat party trick, though- if you''ve got some ridiculously hot pepper lying around, one of us can eat it without feeling a thing."


    "I''m, uh. I''m used to spicy foods," Emily added. "My mom made the staff learn a bunch of traditional Neterian recipes when she married Dad, and would complain any time it wasn''t hot enough."


    "...Fuck you guys, I don''t have to prove anything to you," Faith said, as we all turned to look at her. "I''ll take you up on that glass of milk."


    "Right, well, I''d say a pan of beef enchiladas should be a good introduction to Verde food for you all," Estefania said. "That sound good?"


    "No idea what those are, but it''s hard to fuck up beef, and I trust your judgement," I said, nodding.


    "I''ve had them before, they''re really good," Emily said.


    "Alright, that''s a pan of beef enchiladas for the whole table," Estefania said. "Does anyone want something else?"


    "Sounds good to me," Talia said.


    "Do you have anything that isn''t spicy?" Faith asked.


    "We''ll get you something that won''t burn your tongue off," Estefania said, before patronizingly patting Faith on the head. "Be right back with that."


    She bustled off towards the kitchen, leaving us alone at the table, and also fairly alone in the restaurant- at this time of day, hardly anyone was in here.


    "So," Talia said. "Do you speak any Orcish?"


    "I learned a little Verde, but not a huge amount," I admitted. "We just don''t get that many orcs in Redwater, y''know? Hard to learn a language when all you''ve got is books."


    "Why were you learning Orcish?" Faith asked.


    "Well, I knew I was gonna wanna come north to look for unicorns, because they have been sighted out on the Mesa Verde," I said. "And I figured that, if I was gonna spend a lot of time out on the Mesa Verde, then I''d want to be able to talk to the people who live there, so..." I shrugged. "Also, I do need to remind you both that there''s no such language as Orcish. There''s Verde and there''s Grigian, and while the two languages are mutually intelligible to native speakers, a novice is gonna wanna learn them separately."


    "Pretty much exactly that," Estefania said, returning from the kitchen with a black wooden serving platter held above her head. "So, Chico Rojo, como se llama usted?"


    "Uhhhh..." I blinked a few times- I did remember that "como se llama" was something like a greeting- it wasn''t quite "hello, how are you?" though- and that "usted" was the polite way of saying "you", but... I was just completely blanking, even though I should know what that all meant.


    "Oh, um," Emily said, after a few moments. "You, uh... You''ve got a little bit of brain damage."


    "Oh," I said. "So I''m not a forgetful dumbass for completely forgetting everything I''ve learned about Verde."


    "Solo un poco," Estefania said, setting the platter down on the table. In the center was a big rectangular pan filled with what looked like an indistinct mess of sauce and starch, but which turned out to be several individual rolls of flatbread- tortillas, I think- wrapped around a meaty filling, which were just a little congealed together thanks to the thick layer of sauce. "So, why''ve you got brain damage?"If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    "I died yesterday," I said, shrugging. "Stabbed through the heart. Luckily, I had a Healer right there-" I gestured at Emily, who was seated directly to my right. "-so she was able to bring me back, but... Well, I guess there''s still consequences."


    "Yeah..." Emily said. "By this point, everything from the neck down is healed, except for the scar- I didn''t know if you wanted to keep it or not- but you, um... You''ve basically got a minor concussion right now, and you''ll want to take it easy until that clears up."


    "So, question," Estefania said. "Is it true that elves love old ladies?"


    "That''s..." I trailed off, a fork already in my hand. "...Look. It''s more complicated than that."


    She burst out laughing.


    "It''s more accurate to say that everyone else hates old women, and elves happen to not hate them," I continued. "I mean, we all know it''s bullshit that Hikaano society teaches its girls that they''re only valuable when they''re beautiful, but it''s also bullshit that Hikaano society teaches girls that they''re only beautiful when they''re young. And if elves only let themselves love humans who were young, they''d only get a decade or two with their human lovers, instead of the four to eight decades that human will be alive for."


    "...Ah," Estefania said, more quietly.


    "Also," I continued, "Emily, your mom is in her fifties, right? And you certainly wouldn''t call her ugly, would you? I know I wouldn''t. Duchess Melody Redwater is one of the most beautiful women I''ve ever met."


    "I''m... sure she''d be flattered," Emily said nervously, her cheeks heating up.


    "I know, I''ve told her that myself," I said. "Anyhow! Point is, old women are still gorgeous, and High Elves are just the only ones with the stones to admit it."


    "Thank you for defending my honor, Sir Ironheart," Duchess Melody Redwater said from the entrance to the restaurant. "However, I have it from here. May we join you?"


    "How the hell did you get here so fast?" Talia asked, turning to regard Melody. "I thought you hated trains." I watched, from the corner of my eye, as Estefania rapidly made herself scarce, not wanting anything to do with aristocrat family drama.


    "Peregrine here is an accomplished Wizard," Melody said, gesturing to her elven butler, who I''d met a few times before, but... Now that I really looked at him, I could, in fact, see the mystical signs of a man who was a very good Wizard but didn''t want to be known as a good Wizard. It also explained how he got around so fast- clearly, he knew how to teleport. "He has even tutored my eldest son in the Arcane arts."


    "Huh," I said. "Well, have a seat, we were just about to eat an early lunch. Do you like beef enchiladas?"


    "Sir Ironheart, you are entirely too kind to an old woman," Melody said, grabbing the wooden spatula and a plate, and serving herself a single enchilada- with a bit of extra sauce, scraped off the bottom and sides of the pan. She then seated herself between myself and Emily, and began to eat.


    "Peregrine?" I asked, looking up at the butler politely standing behind his liege.


    "I''ve already eaten, but thank you for the offer," he said politely.


    "Fair enough," I said, nodding. "Oh, if it''s not too much bother, Lady Emily''s asked me to teach her the basics of Wizardry before the semester starts, and I''d appreciate it if you could help with that, and ensure I don''t teach her any bad habits."


    Peregrine nodded. "I will need to consult my schedule for the next two months, but I believe time can be made for that, if Lady Emily desires my help."


    "Oh, I mean... You don''t have to, Pip," Emily said, sheepishly. "I don''t want you to have to keep teleporting all the way out here all the time. That''s a lot of magicka, isn''t it?"


    "There is nothing within my duty as the Butler and Court Wizard of House Redwater that I consider a waste of my time and magicka," Peregrine said firmly.


    Now, I may not be an aristocrat, but my parents definitely were, and I knew a few things about reading between the lines: Emily had politely told him no, and he was insisting otherwise. Now, how do I navigate this in a way that lets Emily maintain some autonomy without making me look like a jackass for raising the subject in the first place?


    For what would likely not be the first time, I wondered if this would be any easier if I didn''t have fog at the edges of my mind. I didn''t feel that different, but... well, my brain was compromised, and I couldn''t really trust what I was feeling, could I?


    "While I''ll hear no insult to your skill, Peregrine, the simple fact of the matter is that Mount Fate is one of the greatest Universities in the world," Melody interjected. "Your dedication is praiseworthy and well-noted, but in this circumstance, I''m afraid we''ll have to leave Emily in the hands of the University."


    Ah, perfect, someone without brain damage to navigate the complex social situation I accidentally created.


    "...As you wish," Peregrine said quietly.


    "If there are any study materials you recommend, however, I''m sure a few day''s delay to go through the mail should be tolerable," I added, because I did want this guy to like me, and making him feel like I respected and valued his experience and opinion seemed like a reasonable way to do that.


    "I will prepare what I can," Peregrine said.


    "Damn, these are really good, even without the peppers coming through," Talia said, swallowing her first big bite of enchilada. Faith, meanwhile, was chowing down on what looked to be a burrito, and which was, to judge from the lack of blushing, panting, and cursing, wholly devoid of peppers.


    The rest of us took a break from talking to eat, and I agreed with Talia''s assessment- these were actually really good.


    "Yeah," Emily said, after finishing her own first bite. "Honestly, Faith, you have to try this, it''s really good."


    "You look at me and tell me I look like I can handle spicy food," Faith said flatly.


    "It''s not that spicy," Emily said, carving off a big bite of enchilada with the side of her fork, before spearing it and offering it to Faith.


    "Listen," I said. "I try to fight against racism where I can, even within my own heart. I am not always successful, and if I ever say or do something that implies I do not consider a certain ethnic group to be fully valuable people who deserve respect, I want to be corrected on that, and will do my best to accept that correction with a minimum of fuss and defensiveness."


    "Uh," Faith began.


    "That being said," I continued, looking at the piece of enchilada at the end of Emily''s fork, "I can tell you that there is no lie in this world that will hurt you more than a black person saying ''It''s not that spicy.''"


    Duchess Melody coughed, covering a laugh, and Emily cringed a little.


    "Yeah, yeah, you''re all so goddamn tough," Faith said, before snatching the fork from Emily and eating the morsel of enchilada with swiftness. "There. I ate it. No big d-" She coughed, and her face started turning red, from her forehead to her throat. "Oh. Oh that was a mistake. Oh no. Oh no, that''s-"


    "I warned you," I said, shaking my head, as Faith began to guzzle milk.


    Oh well. She''d live.

 Book 3 Chapter 3

    "So," Melody said, as we finished up our breakfast. "Emily, would you mind telling me what you intend to study here at the University of Mount Fate?"


    "Alchemical Medicine and the Arcane Arts," Emily said. "I still haven''t changed my mind; those are going to be really useful for being a Healer."


    "I don''t disagree with that," Melody said, clearly disagreeing with something else. "But, Emily... I know you''re an adult, I know you''re your own woman. I know I can''t make you do anything. But please, Emily, just consider taking a few courses on the Occult. You don''t have to become a Bard, but... Even just the most basic of those skills are invaluable for women like us."


    "Women like you," Emily said quietly.


    Melody inhaled deeply... but said nothing else, simply turning away.


    Interesting. I didn''t know all the details, and I''d probably have to spend a while building up more of a rapport with either or even both of them before I could pester those details out of them, but... well, the shape of it was pretty obvious: Duchess Melody was a Bard, who''d used her skills to marry into the aristocracy and secure a better future for her family. Emily, meanwhile, was just as driven and determined, but didn''t want to be an aristocrat, and instead chose the path of a Healer- a high-skill, high-prestige job that would secure her a comfortable life on her own terms.


    I couldn''t know for sure that Emily had ever said as much, but I was pretty sure she had at least thought that she had the moral high ground over her mother on grounds that Emily had "a real job."


    "I''m a dabbling Occultist myself, and happen to have a very skilled tutor on tap," I interjected. "I''m sure, at some point in Emily''s study of the Arcane, I''ll find an excuse to cross-train her in the Occult as well, just to cover all our bases."


    Emily shot me a look that was not exactly affectionate, which I pretended to ignore, while Melody simply sighed in relief and patted me on the shoulder.


    "Thank you, Sir Ironheart," Melody said quietly. "I know my daughter is in good hands, with you. Now, I''d love to stay and talk for longer, but unfortunately, I have appointments I can''t ignore, and Peregrine and I must be going now." She stood up carefully, Peregrine subtly pulling out her chair for her with a touch of magic, and she nodded to all of us. "It was good seeing you all again, and with any luck, I''ll be able to visit again soon. Take care, children. Oh, one last thing."


    She reached into her bosom with one hand, and withdrew what looked to be a pocket-sized notebook, and handed it to me.


    "Joseph, make sure you check this regularly," Melody said. "It is linked to another notebook in my possession, and anything written in one of them will appear in the other. If you need to contact me, or I you, then this is how you will do it. Now, with that concluded, I bid all of you adieu. Peregrine, if you will?"


    With a dim flash of blue, and a barely-audible whoof of displacing air, Melody and Peregrine disappeared, teleporting back to Redwater.


    "...That guy is good," I said quietly. "It takes a lot of skill to make teleportation that subtle with just Arcane magic."


    "Are you going to make me learn Occult magic?" Emily asked.


    I winced; she was more upset than I thought.


    "No," I said. "If you don''t want to learn it, then you don''t want to learn it; teaching an unwilling student is beyond me, and I know better than to try forcing the hand of people I actually like."


    "What is it with you and Occult magic, anyhow?" Talia asked. "Is it like how his mom doesn''t like it? You think it''s cheating, or for liars and frauds, or something? Honestly, Joseph, I''ve never been too clear on why Ariel disapproves, either."


    "It''s..." Emily sighed. "...I know Mom means well, but... She wants me to become a Bard, just like her, so I can secure the best husband possible, just like her, and advance the family''s political aims, just like her. But... But I don''t want to be just like her! I don''t want to be a spoiled princess who doesn''t actually do anything, and freeloads off the peasants who actually keep society going. I want to contribute, to actually help people. That''s why I became a Healer."


    "She''s not doing nothing," I said. "I''m not saying you have to become just like your mother, and I''m not saying you''re wrong to dislike the aristocracy, but... Well. If my read on her is accurate, she''s just as smart and determined as you are, she just applies it in a different arena."


    Emily just looked away, looking like I''d fed her a slice of lemon, and an uncomfortable silence fell over the table.


    "...I''m not a Paladin anymore," Faith said, after a few seconds.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    "Wait, what?"


    ---


    I paid the bill in a hurry- the actual total for a pan of enchiladas, a bean-and-cheese burrito, and a glass of milk was only two dollars and fifteen cents, but I didn''t bother thinking about it beyond simple orders of magnitude, and just handed the waitress a five-dollar coin before ushering everyone out of the restaurant and back into the van, where Volex was waiting for us.


    "Okay, start from the beginning," I said, as we all sat down. "What happened?"


    "So, last night, after we fought Paimon," Faith began, "Hano came to me in a dream. It was definitely him, not just me imagining things, I promise."


    "Okay," I said, nodding and gesturing for her to continue.


    "Well, he told me that you were lying about being a priest of The Father, and that you were possessed by Paimon''s soul," Faith continued. "That you were Paimon now, and that you would go on to conquer the world if you were allowed to recover your strength. And, um... Then he told me that, I, um..." She trailed off, looking down at her hands, clasped together with twiddling thumbs.


    "He told you to kill me," I said quietly.


    "...Yeah," Faith said, quietly. "And... I..." She sighed.


    "Easy, hon," Talia said, reaching up and patting Faith''s shoulder a few times, before transitioning into a gentle, one-handed back rub. "You''re okay, nobody''s mad at you."


    "It just... It took me a lot longer to tell him ''no'' than it should''ve," Faith said quietly. "I... I tried to bargain with him, to talk him down from killing you, and no matter how firmly he said no, that I had to kill you, I just... I couldn''t turn away from him, until I''d tried everything I could think of. I was... Gods above, I was so close to giving in and saying ''yes,'' and... I''m sorry. I''m so sorry, I''ll just- I have to go, I can''t-"


    "What, you think you''re gonna tell your god to kick rocks on my behalf, and I''m not gonna keep you around?" I drawled out. "Faith, I know you''re mad at yourself for experiencing a moral dilemma at all, but I need you to understand that I am capable of telling Hano to eat shit because I was raised by a man who hated Hano more than anything else, who gave me a pet that''d die when I was ten just so he could have more time to drill it into my skull that Hano killed my grandparents. You, meanwhile, were raised by Paladins, and dedicated yourself to the ideal of the Paladin so strongly that Hano gave you divine magic before you had any real training at all. I am not even remotely surprised or offended that you struggled to tell him no- what I am is proud that you managed to do it at all."


    "You-" Faith''s breath hitched in her throat. "...Really?"


    "I''m proud of you," I repeated, clearly. "You looked your god in the eye and told him no, because you knew that what he was telling you to do was wrong. That''s hard, Faith. So yeah. I''m very proud of you."


    "Are you sure about-" Talia whispered, quietly enough that Faith couldn''t hear her, but I still could.


    Faith, meanwhile, flung herself forward, leaping over the coffee table, to land in my arms, clinging to me tightly as she started to cry.


    "It''s alright," I said quietly. "I''m here for you."


    "I''m sorry," Faith said, face against my shoulder. "I''m... I''m useless now, without my magic, and..."


    "Hey now," I said, gently. "You are not useless, Faith." Whispering low enough that Faith couldn''t hear, I said, "Talia please get over here and console your girlfriend, I''m scared I''ll break her even further."


    "I... I am, though," Faith muttered, squeezing me tightly. "I can''t... I can''t even warm your bed properly, because I''m a stupid lesbian freak-"


    "Okay, I''m stopping you right there," I said. "That''s Hano talking, not you, Faith."


    "Yeah, please don''t start spewing a bunch of homophobic bullshit right now," Talia added, as she settled down next to me, wrapping an arm around Faith. "Or ever, but especially not now."


    "Now, I was gonna hold off on this, because I didn''t want to pressure you, but... there are other gods you can follow," I continued. "Just because you rejected Hano doesn''t mean you''re cut off from the Divine forever. You can become a cleric again, I promise."


    "But... who''s gonna take me?" Faith asked.


    "Well..." I coughed quietly. "...I mean, I didn''t say it''d be easy. But, uh, hey, if it doesn''t work out, you could become the group''s Bard, so I don''t have to do it?"


    "Joseph," Talia said firmly.


    "Look," I said, dropping my attempt at lightening the mood. "It''s... Becoming a cleric is hard. It''s going to be hard the second time, too. But... I''m here for you. We''re here for you. What kind of asshole would we be if we weren''t, after everything we''ve been through?"


    Faith just nodded wordlessly.


    "We''ll figure something out," I said. "It doesn''t have to be today, or even this week. We''ve got time. We''re meant to be figuring ourselves out at this age, you know? And for as long as it takes you to do that, we''ll be there to help you through it."


    "Really?" she croaked.


    "I promise," I said. And sure, I might know exactly what the path of least resistance was for Faith, but I wasn''t gonna say it until she was stable enough to-


    "You do know that ''paladin'' used to mean ''knightly cleric of The Mother, Elven Goddess of Justice, Freedom, and War,'' right?" Volex asked.


    "...Tell me more," Faith demanded.

 Book 3 Chapter 4

    "Just... sleep on it first, okay?" I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Don''t rush into this- I know you''re not immortal, but humans live plenty long enough, and you really do have a lot of time to figure it out."


    "There''s nothing to figure out," Faith said, firmly. "This is the only reasonable choice- Justice was the ideal I thought Hano''s Paladins represented, but... Now I know better, and I know where to find Justice at the source."


    "Not today," I said firmly. "Tomorrow, if you''re still sure, but... Not today. Promise me at least that much, Faith."


    "Fine," Faith said. "I promise."


    "Thank you," I said, pulling her into a tight hug, and shooting Volex the nastiest glare I could manage, putting a lot of magicka into an Occult expression of ''you''re an asshole and you are not helping.''


    She simply smirked back at me, a smug look written upon her face.


    "Alright," I said, patting her on the back. "Let''s head over to the University, yeah? Might as well-"


    There came a knock on the rear door to the van, and I blinked. The hell was...


    "I''ll get it," Volex said, heading for the door, and opening it up. "Oh, hello there. You must be Jason Goldmist-Rosewood."


    "That would be me," the man standing there said, nodding. He was a tall, broad man with an impressive, yet well-groomed, beard and long, well-coiffed hair- both of which shared the same golden hue of his skin and even his irises. Outwardly, he wore the guise of an elf, but under that guise thrummed a very distinctive magical signature that very obviously didn''t fit any elf or human I''d ever met.


    There was only one Gold Dragon alive, these days, and evidently, that was him.


    "Is Joseph Ironheart-" Jason continued, before his gaze landed on me. "Ah, he is. May I come in, please?"


    "...Sure," I said, nodding. "Are you... with the University of Mount Fate?"


    "I am, yes," Jason said, nodding, as he stepped inside, Volex closing the door behind him. "Jason Goldmist-Rosewood, Deputy Headmaster of the University of Mount Fate, and... well, your grandfather. It''s nice to meet you, Joseph."


    "...Jason..." I repeated, before blinking. "...Are you that Jason? The one Helen thinks Mom is mad at her about, who Mom further described as a dead man once Helen wasn''t present to contradict her?"


    Jason winced. "That... does sound like Ariel, yes. It''s... I''d rather not go into it, personally. I simply wanted to meet my grandson, and-"


    "You''re kinda not his grandfather, though," Talia pointed out. "His mom is a Silver- she has fully rejected her family, and that includes you."


    "Talia, don''t," I said wearily. "We don''t need to antagonize the poor guy just yet. If it turns out we can''t get along, then sure, we can ask him to leave and I''ll refuse to call him grandfather, but so far, all he''s done is knock on my door and say it''s nice to meet me. So, Jason, what brings you to our caravan?"


    "Formally, my duties include handling the intake of freshmen each year, and ensuring that everyone ends up with class schedules they can at least tolerate," Jason said. "You are the only freshman adventuring party that''s likely to arrive today, and as such, it is entirely reasonable for me to come to you, and discuss matters at a leisurely pace. Informally, however... Well, you can hardly blame a man for wanting to meet his only grandson, can you?"


    "Is his mom an only child?" Faith asked.


    "As it so happens, yes," Jason said, nodding. "Helen and I have never conceived, for a variety of reasons that are all too personal to go into here and now, but the end result is that Ariel is, in fact, Helen''s only daughter."


    "So, is there anything we can take that''s not in the orientation packet Helen gave us?" Talia asked. "I''m curious about General Alchemy, but I''m not married to it, y''know? What else is there?"


    "Unfortunately, what is in the packet is the full extent of what we have on offer," Jason said. "We may have more resources at our disposal than most other universities, but the simple fact of the matter is that we can only offer so many different courses, given the small size and exclusivity of our student population. There are graduate-level courses on offer, of course, but those will only concern you when you''ve earned a Bachelor''s, which will likely be a good few years, depending on how well you do with your Placement Exams."This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "Placement Exams?" Emily repeated.


    "Placement Exams," Jason confirmed, nodding. "There are a number of them that we have on offer, and you are free to take as many as you like. The purpose is to determine your existing skill level in a given subject with far more detail and accuracy than standardized Certificates can, and they will enable you to skip classes that teach material you may already know."


    "Interesting..." Talia said.


    "I saw that there''s a sort of... ''Paladin Studies'' track," I said. "How firmly is that for Paladins, and how well do you expect it to adapt to someone who''s not a Paladin, and instead is some other kind of knight, such as, say, an Elven Mage-Knight?" Or, y''know, an apostate Paladin who was gonna try to become a cleric of The Mother?


    "Quite well, actually," Jason said. "It''s fairly popular with Fighters as well, who tend to be rather less concerned with the finer points of theology than Paladins are."


    "Fair enough," I said, trying desperately to not let myself get sidetracked thinking about the Fighter''s Guild. Because the thing about the Fighter''s Guild was that, while they weren''t law-enforcement and they didn''t hassle civilians all the time, they were still elite warriors who considered everyone around them to be worthless chaff, and they very much had fought alongside the Paladins in the War of the Roses, and- oh goddamnit. Ugh. I can hate the Fighter''s Guild later. Right now, though, I had other shit to deal with. "So, what would you recommend for someone who wants to study mounted combat, and Arcane magic, and Occult magic, and Divine magic? And who, perhaps, might also have a strong grounding and continued interest in machining slash engineering, but is aware that it could probably stand to be set aside for a few years while he focuses on other things?"


    Jason tilted his head to the side.


    "...I would recommend wanting something else," Jason said primly. "Failing that, I would recommend setting low expectations for yourself regarding your yearly progress on those skills, and perhaps negotiating a higher term limit with the Headmistress so that you can finish out each of those courses in full."


    "I see," I said, quietly.


    "However," Jason continued, "the situation is not quite so bad as it seems, if this truly is for you. I am well aware that Ariel is one of the greatest Wizards to walk the Earth, and if you can bear to set your Arcane studies aside for four years, then you can simply return home and continue learning from her once you''re done here. Likewise, I am aware that the fetching lady with the purple skin is your Succubus Familiar, and am quite confident that she can tutor you quite extensively in the Occult as well. And, finally... Divine magic is not something we truly teach, here, as it is, more often than not, a matter of your particular relationship with your deity, and we can only give an introductory course that is only helpful to the truly rank beginner. May I ask what God you are a cleric of, Joseph?"


    "The Father," I said.


    "...The God of Time," Jason said. "Well. In that case, young man, I would like to retract my cautionary advice, and will simply wish you good luck."


    "Is the Knight Studies track a full-time thing, or should I take some other stuff too?" Faith asked. "Also, when are the placement exams held?"


    "There are a few rounds of them over the summer," Jason said. "There''s actually a round of them starting next week, if you''d like to sign up for those now, and get them out of the way."


    "Fine by me," Faith said.


    "I have brain damage," I said. "Is there another round that''s, like... two weeks out?"


    "I, uh... Yes," Jason said, a little taken aback. "Are you quite alright, Joseph?"


    "I died three times yesterday. The fact I can walk and hold a conversation is nothing short of a miracle."


    "Aren''t you a Druid?" Emily asked, facing Talia, and clearly wanting to change the subject. "Is there a reason you''re not taking Druid classes?"


    "Yeah, because those don''t exist," Talia said with a shrug. "Primal magic isn''t something you learn in a classroom. It''s about your relationship with the Living Earth, and there''s only so much that other people can help with that."


    "There are a few courses," Jason said. "But, well... They''re more for preparing someone to become a Druid, and once they are a Druid, then Talia is correct: a classroom setting simply is not appropriate for a Druid''s skillset."


    "That actually raises another question," I said, turning to face Emily. "You''re a full-on Healer, meaning you''ve already graduated medical school, and have a Doctorate. How is that going to affect Emily''s courseload?"


    "Mainly, it will exempt her from a number of basic courses that she would normally be required to take, on the grounds she has already taken them," Jason said. "Now, I am going to need to fill out some paperwork with each of you, regarding declared majors and placement exams, but once we''ve finished all of that business, would you be interested in a tour of campus?"


    I looked around, and nobody was actively resentful of the idea, so I turned and said, "Sure, why not. We need to figure out where the caravan parking is."


    "Excellent! Now, let me see..." He reached into the inside of his jacket, and produced a stack of papers, along with a fountain pen. "Who wishes to go first?"

 Book 3 Chapter 5

    "Have you ever taken a magicka reserve test, Joseph?" Jason asked, as Volex parked the van in our newly-designated spot in the University''s portable home district.


    "No," I said. "Mom said it was pointless to try to quantify something like that, because of how much it''d change over the course of my life, and that I shouldn''t bother chasing big numbers; that way lies insecurity and madness."


    "Well," Jason began. "While I can see her perspective, I don''t think you have much to worry about, regarding insecurity about your magicka reserves. By my estimation, you have deeper magicka reserves than any other student we''ve ever had."


    "...Wait, what?" I asked, blinking. "How does that- Jason, I''m an elf. We don''t- we don''t grow that fast, and I''m only eighteen."


    "Well, yes, but," Jason said. "When women with large magicka reserves give birth, their children typically have an easier time developing their own magicka reserves. And you are the son of one of the most powerful Wizards alive."


    "That''s..." I trailed off. "...Huh."


    "Do... Do Bards use magicka, too?" Emily asked, tentatively.


    "They do, yes," Jason said, nodding. "Why do you- oh, oh! I understand now- your mother, Melody Thompson, is an alumnus of this very university! If I recall correctly, she actually earned herself a Doctorate in Bardic Studies- I didn''t sit on her committee, but I did read her dissertation, and it was truly inspired work. So, to answer your real question, young lady, yes, your mother likely did have substantial magicka reserves when she gave birth to you, and you will likely have an easier time developing your own magicka reserves as a result."


    "Okay, okay," I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. "That''s enough dramatic revelations for one day, Jason. You are not helping the headache I can only ignore thanks to years of autohypnosis. Can you please give us a campus tour without any of those?"


    "Ah, I, ah, shall try my best?" Jason said, more than a bit bashfully. "Ahem. If you''ll follow me?"


    He led us out of the van through the back door, and into the wide, open space of the University''s mobile home district, where adventurers who preferred to live inside enchanted caravans and the like could park their vehicles. The district itself was... weird, and felt artificial. Mage-forged roads of monolithic granite formed a grid, sectioning off the area into thirty foot squares where all the adventurers could park their portable houses. Someone, somewhere, looked at this and thought this was paradise. Me, I just felt like it was a waste of space, and couldn''t help but think about the densely-packed high towers of starlight my people had once built.


    Looking around, I could see some people milling about, and there were a few things I noticed pretty quickly.


    One, there was a gradient to how outlandish people looked that probably corresponded to seniority. At the bottom of the ladder were people like us, who wore fairly normal clothing with maybe one or two odd accessories- a big black leather duster, a sword at your hip, a shield on your back, a staff in your hand- but, as you moved up, people dressed more and more bombastically, until we had what must be a group of seniors, who wore these absolutely baroque outfits that I struggled to parse, all of which found a different way to include at least a dozen belts.


    Two, people tended to be clumped up in groups of three to six people, with many of the solitaires looking even more outlandish than their peers.


    And three... while the University of Mount Fate wasn''t a purely human institution, it was quite visibly a mostly human institution, with only a few scattered elves and dwarves around, and precisely two orcs and one goblin that I could see. Men were also far more common than women, with most adventuring parties having only one or two women, and uncomfortably many having none at all. I saw one party that was exclusively women, but I got the impression that they were a special gimmick party, rather than just an organic confluence of four female adventurers who happened to work well together.


    "Here," Jason began, "we have the Portable House District. We''ve already filled out the paperwork for your spot, E15, and the grid layout should make it quite straightforward to find it again. Right over there, we have the main gate, and its rapid transit system, and attached to that, we have the Commissary. Now, you can buy food, toiletries, and other consumables from the Commissary, and it is in fact entirely possible to live comfortably off of what the Commissary offers, given its eminently reasonable prices, but most students prefer to make trips down to the town at the base of the mountain to buy groceries, due to the town lacking the University''s restrictions on alcoholic beverages and their consumption."


    "So, just to clarify, we aren''t allowed to have beer up here?" Faith asked.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "The rules state that the possession and consumption of alcoholic beverages on campus are prohibited," Jason said, in the manner of a man who thought it was a stupid rule and was very aware that the rule got broken with great frequency. "I do not recommend breaking the rules, but I am not about to lecture you about them, either. Now! If you''ve consulted your maps-" He created an illusory image of a campus map in midair, so that we wouldn''t have to dig ours out. "-you may notice that the campus is quite ring-shaped, and behind us, you will find the central administrative office, along with the dormitories, the cafeteria, and the entrance to The Abyss, which you''ll likely be visiting at least once during your studies here."


    We all made noises of understanding, with me and Emily even nodding along.


    "Now, around the outer ring, we have a number of facilities, each dedicated to a different field of study; going clockwise from here, the first building we have is the Luminous Hall, where all subjects Arcane are taught, followed by..."


    ---


    "Hello, Jason," a Kitsune said as we exited the Hall of Measures, where all of the science and science-adjacent courses were taught. We were about halfway through the tour, and I was thoroughly regretting the decision to agree to this. "I see you''re escorting... ah, your grandson? How fascinating. Hello, children. I am Professor Takeda Kiyoko, and I teach a number of advanced courses in the Occult arts, as well as a handful of beginner courses. I look forward to seeing you in class, Mister Ironheart."


    "I..." I turned to regard Jason, who looked more annoyed than anything serious. "...Fair enough, Professor Kiyok- wait, did you use the Sunset ordering or the Hikaano ordering?" A quick count was all it took to confirm that, yes, Professor Takeda Kiyoko did have nine tails, and was thus quite old- and quite powerful- for a Kitsune.


    It was, therefore, a very bad idea to annoy her.


    "Sunset ordering?" Emily asked.


    "In the Sunset Kingdoms, it is customary to introduce yourself by your family name, followed by your personal name," the Professor politely explained. "As such, I would more properly be Professor Takeda, although in a more informal context, I might permit you to call me Kiyoko."


    Meaning that if I called her that without permission, I would be made to regret it.


    Kitsune- who were, if memory served, not fully in agreement on being called "foxgirls"- were one of a wider category of being known to the High Elves as "non-humanoid people." The term "humanoid" was imperfect, as it was often misused to refer to the body type of "biped with opposable thumbs," but more properly, it meant "descended from humans." As such, despite the fact that Professor Takeda was in fact shaped like a (rather beautiful and matronly) human woman who simply happened to have fox ears and nine gorgeously fluffy red tails fanned out behind her back, the fact she was not actually descended from humans meant she was not properly humanoid.


    The specifics of non-humanoid people, and how they interacted with humanoid society, were quite fascinating, albeit not always without their share of horrors; just ask the unicorns and the dragons how well they got along with the humans who slaughtered them.


    "Do you have any advice for a dabbling Occultist to move up to a proper grasp of the principles at play?" I asked. "Classes you''d recommend, things like that?"


    "That depends," Professor Takeda said. "How much of a dabbler are you?"


    "I''ve used Occult magic to charm an unsuspecting Wizard, to put resisting people into hypnotic trances, and to find a little girl''s lost housecat," I said.


    Volex emerged from her reliquary, already speaking.


    "Don''t forget the time you disrupted a Succubus Hellknight''s narrative of victory and killed her in a single blow," Volex added.


    "Okay, yes, but that wasn''t that impressive in context," I said. "Her narrative was the sort of goddamn lie that pisses me off so badly, which was more her being bad at this than me being particularly good at this."


    Professor Takeda blinked a few times.


    "...You don''t sound like a dabbler to me," she said. "You have a Succubus as a Familiar, after all."


    "She was bound five centuries ago by Terpsichore Ironheart," I said. "All I did was pick up Volex''s reliquary and strike a deal."


    "I''ve been tutoring him further in the Occult," Volex added. "He already had a solid foundation, and frankly, at this point, the only thing keeping him from being a middling Bard right now is the simple fact he can''t play an instrument."


    "That''s not completely-" I began.


    "No, no, that sounds like a reasonable summary of what you''ve admitted to," Professor Takeda said. "I understand your perspective, of course- I presume you''ve never had any formal training in the Occult, and have been self-taught until your acquaintance with Volex?"


    "Well... Yeah," I admitted.


    "Right, well. For you, I would suggest taking an introductory course in playing an instrument- my recommendation would be for something small and simple, like a harmonica or an ukulele, but it''s more important that you pick an instrument you''re interested in. I would also suggest taking the Occult Arts Placement Test, to determine how far along you are in your studies of the Occult, so that you don''t waste time on classes teaching you things you already know."


    "I... Well, if you think that''s wise, I suppose-"


    A searingly bright flash of blue light blinded me for a moment, and the next thing I knew, Professor Takeda was on the ground several yards away, lightly smoking. Volex had, naturally, retreated inside her reliquary, wanting nothing to do with this mess.


    "You stay the hell away from my grandson, you bitch!" Helen Rosewood angrily yelled as she approached.


    "Father," I prayed silently, "please let today end soon. I don''t want to deal with this shit anymore."

 Book 3 Chapter 6

    "Helen!" Jason exclaimed. "What on earth are you-"


    "Kiyoko Takeda had sex with my apprentice," Helen said, a bright blue glow gathering at her fingertips. "I was very, very clear in the hiring process that professors who had inappropriate relationships with students would not be tolerated, and yet, here she is, strutting around like she''s done nothing wrong, about to move onto my grandson..."


    "Like hell she was," I said flatly.


    "Joseph-"


    "Helen, I understand I''m young, but I assure you: I know what it looks like when an older woman wants to sleep with me." I gestured at Professor Takeda, who was starting to recover. "She''s not that. She''s just a Professor giving academic advice to a student in her field."


    "Be that as it may, she still slept with a student, and-"


    "I did no such thing," Professor Takeda said weakly, pushing herself upright. "I swear this on the stars in the sky and the fur on my tails."


    "Bullshit," Helen said flatly. "You think my apprentice lied to me?"


    "I think your apprentice is not a student," Professor Takeda said.


    "...Oh, you insufferable little-"


    "I explicitly have no power to discipline her without your approval, and even if she were to audit my classes, I would not be able to formally grade her," Professor Takeda said. "She may be here to learn, but she is no student, and I am not her teacher. There is, as such, no student-teacher relationship for me to violate, and no institutional power I can use to coerce her, and I have done nothing wrong."


    "I mean, there''s a solid argument to be made that you didn''t break any rules," I said, "but I do feel like someone who''s in the neighborhood of a thousand years old probably shouldn''t be sleeping with a teenager. Assuming Helen''s apprentice is a teenager, anyhow- if they''re, like, twenty five, then whatever, they''re old enough to own their bad decisions. But, like, that''s more ''stern talking to'' territory than ''attempted murder'' territory."


    "Joseph," Helen said, her eyes closed. "Do not undermine me in front of the faculty. I am already having a bad day as it is, and I do not need this."


    "You absolutely need someone to talk you down from killing your faculty for spurious reasons," I said. "You''ve known Professor Takeda for a long time, haven''t you? Does she really strike you as the sort of person who would only now turn out to be a sexual predator? Or are you willing to consider that, just maybe, she might have a good reason for doing this?"


    "...Just what is motivating you to stick up for her?" Helen asked, turning to face me. "This is the first time you''ve ever met her."


    "I don''t need to know someone to defend them from a petty tyrant," I said dryly, before sighing and putting a hand on her shoulder. "Look, just... Go back to your office, have a cup of tea, and delegate this mess to someone else. Alright?"


    "...Fine," Helen said. "Jason, you handle this mess. And you, young man, will come see me in my office once you''re done meddling."


    Helen disappeared, with a flash of blue light that was downright bombastic compared to Peregrine''s. Either Peregrine was a better Wizard than she was, or he simply wasn''t as egotistical.


    "...Kiyoko, please stop antagonizing Helen," Jason said wearily. "There is only so long you can rely on the decency of freshmen students to vouch for your good character, and you cannot keep doing this forever."


    "Oh, I very much can," Professor Takeda said, straightening up and brushing ashes off of herself, and suddenly looking just as whole and unharmed as she had been a few minutes ago. "I was never in any real danger. Besides, as this eighteen year old boy was somehow able to discern, I had a good and specific reason for what I did."


    "Kiyoko..." Jason began.


    "Can I ask what that reason is?" I said, because apparently I was the only Rosewood in a thousand miles who wasn''t an imperious buffoon.


    "Helen''s apprentice is under a permanent Occult effect that empowers her greatly," Professor Takeda said. "The more she acts within a certain prescribed role, the stronger the effect grows, and the more empowered she becomes. And as it so happens, the specific role she has been assigned is empowered by sex, especially with particularly powerful women. As a professor of the Adventurer''s Guild, it is my highest responsibility to see to the growth and development of our students, and ensure that they reach their full potential, even if that requires a few unorthodox methods for unorthodox students."


    "...So, wait," Talia said. "You''re saying that not having sex with Helen''s apprentice would''ve been a bigger violation of your duties?"Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    "More or less, although nobody else would blame me for that particular dereliction," Professor Takeda said. "I would, though."


    "Well, uh... maybe arrange for this kind of thing to happen in ways that don''t get you assaulted by Helen Rosewood?" I suggested.


    "Oh, I have," Professor Takeda said easily. "I am very thorough, when it comes to the edification of my students. Now, run along, children. Helen is expecting you in her office, and I won''t have you held up on my account."


    "We aren''t done discussing this," Jason warned her.


    "Have fun with that," Talia said, grabbing my wrist and Faith''s as she hustled off, eager to be rid of Jason''s incredibly tedious tour.


    ---


    "So, how was the tour?" Helen asked, as the four of us- Volex had retreated into her reliquary- filed into her office. "What do you think of the campus?"


    "It was alright," Talia said, shrugging.


    "It''s hard to judge the quality of instruction from the architecture alone," I said, more diplomatically. "We won''t be able to render an opinion on the University until after classes start; after all, this isn''t a leisure resort."


    "Reasonable enough," Helen said, nodding. "Right. Well, Joseph-"


    "Do you think she knows we''re here too?" Faith whispered to Talia.


    "Quiet, brats," Helen snapped, her magic flaring into a silencing spell. "Now. You''ve already proven yourself quite capable with the King of Thieves affair, and as my grandson, I know I can trust you."


    That was incredibly naive, considering I was raised by a woman who hated Helen, and I myself had publicly contradicted and opposed Helen ten minutes ago, but whatever. Helen was used to getting her way, and I''d just have to deal with it.


    "What I need is for you to join my apprentice on a delve into The Abyss," Helen continued. "The objective she is pursuing is the retrieval of an old magic item I threw down there in frustration, years and years ago, that she''ll need to complete the quest I''m training her up for. However, she''s... well, she''s green as they come, and as far as I can tell, isn''t particularly impressive as far as teenagers go. Which brings us to your specific job: you have to make sure she not only survives the experience, but learns from it."


    "Okay... And, uh. When do you need this done by?"


    "Take today to prepare yourselves and my apprentice," Helen said. "You enter The Abyss tomorrow morning."


    Emily tried and failed to speak up, the silencing spell having hit her too.


    "I think my Healer is trying to say I can''t do that," I said, watching Emily carefully- she nodded, so I was on the right track. "I got stabbed in the heart, yesterday, and while I will be fine soon enough, both she and the ghost of your father have said that I need to rest and recover for a little bit. Also, I came right up to the edge of mana burn yesterday, so I''m not really in a position to be doing any spellcasting today."


    Helen considered this carefully... and then sighed.


    "Fine," she said, shaking her head. "But you will be getting to know my apprentice while you recover. You, Healer girl, what''s your prognosis on recovery time?"


    "A week, maybe two," Emily said, once the silence spell was broken. "I''ll keep you informed."


    "Mmph. Fine. Emily, would you come out please?"


    "I think I like women," Emily said.


    "...What?" Helen asked, blinking.


    "So this is Doctor Emily Redwater, licensed trauma surgeon of the Healer''s Guild," I said, gesturing to Emily. "I was knighted as her guardian, and I sustained my wound in the course of my duties to her."


    The door on the back wall of Helen''s office opened up, and through it stepped another eighteen year old girl with dark skin and curly hair, who, from context, I could tell was also named Emily. She looked... Honestly, she looked like if Emily had joined the Paladins rather than the Healers. She was tall and well-muscled, with dark brown skin and pitch black hair, but with curves that I was reasonably certain did not belong on someone with that kind of muscle definition. She was also dressed like Faith, and also a bit like me, wearing a mildly worn pair of blue jeans and a plain white shirt- although unlike myself and Faith, she''d gone for one that was sleeveless, and also a much clingier fit on her frame.


    "Emily''s a stupid name," the girl said, walking into the office, a bit of Northern drawl coloring her voice. "I thought I told you I was changing it."


    "Just... Introduce yourself," Helen said, shaking her head.


    "My name," Helen''s Apprentice began, "is Akua Sahelian, the Nameless Sorceress."


    "How are you nameless if your name is Akua Sahelian?" I asked, fully aware of what she was doing, and fully intending to razz her berries about it.


    "Wh- oh, fuck it, I ain''t gotta explain shit," she muttered, looking away. "Whatever. Akua wasn''t even black, anyway. Alright, I''m... Catherine Foundling, the Black Queen."


    "It''s awful presumptuous to declare yourself a Queen in a land that still has a monarchy," I pointed out. "I mean, Helen could probably do it, but that''s because her dad was High King Lysander Rosewood, the longest-reigning monarch to walk this earth. Lysander says hi, by the way."


    "He what," Helen said.


    "Ugh, fine, if you backwater fucksticks don''t get a reference to the best story ever written, then I won''t even bother," she said. "Just call me Cat."


    "Nice to meet you, Cat, my name is Joseph Ironheart."


    "Oh bullshit," Cat protested. "You can''t just make fun of me for making up a name and then drop that on the table!"


    "That really is his name, though," Talia said. "His dad''s name is Napoleon Ironheart, and Napoleon was named by a human Bard by the name of Terpsichore Ironheart."


    "Also, ''Joseph'' is hardly an outlandish name," I added, fully aware that wasn''t the problem she had with my name. "Anyhow, this is Talia Jones, the freckly musclegirl is Faith Jones- no relation to Talia, it''s just a common name- and the shy Healer with the pink hair is Lady Emily Redwater, who I am sworn to protect."


    "...You''re an asshole," Cat said bluntly.


    "He got a concussion yesterday," Faith pointed out. "Cut him some slack. He''s usually nicer."


    "No, this is about the usual level of annoying I am to my peers," I said. "It means a lot to me that you''re willing to defend me, Faith, but it''s important that you understand that sometimes I''m an asshole on purpose because it''s funny."


    "I hate elves," Helen said, mostly to herself.


    Yep, all was right with the world.

 Book 3 Chapter 7

    "Holy shit, is that a Succubus?" Cat asked, staring at Volex.


    We''d taken Cat back to the van, to get her settled in, and almost immediately upon arrival, Volex re-emerged from her reliquary.


    "Yeah, this is Volex," I said, gesturing at the demon in question. "She''s my familiar and my tutor in all things Occult, although... Hrm. Volex, were you Napoleon and/or Frederick''s Hearth-Mother?"


    "Nah, I didn''t feel like raising kids," Volex said. "To your dad, I''m Aunt Volex, not Mama Volex."


    "Wait, hang on," Cat began.


    "It''s a long story," I said, closing my eyes and sighing. "The short version is, Volex was part of the Ironheart family for two centuries... and then got separated in the War of the Roses, and spent three hundred years being passed around like a magazine by rich old men, before I finally managed to take her reliquary from the King of Thieves, before taking his head off his shoulders and putting it in a jar above my fireplace."


    "...Oh," Cat said.


    "So, no," Volex said, "he is not shtupping his grandmother. We only met five weeks ago."


    "Also, if you''re about to ask how much control I have over her... I think the answer is ''only as much as she gives me?''" I turned and looked at Volex. "I mean, I''ll admit that I have zero formal training in either Occult magic or diabolism, but I''m pretty sure that your reliquary isn''t supposed to let you come and go whenever you want."


    "In the hands of a human, it wouldn''t," Volex said with a shrug. "The thing about the reliquary is that it''s a symbol of ownership, but right now, it''s being held by a young man to whom slavery is unthinkably barbaric, and who thinks that I should be free to do whatever the hell I want. And because Occult magic cares about that, I am free to do what I want, and I very much appreciate that."


    "Ahhh, so you''re a regular John Brown, eh?" Cat asked.


    "No clue who that is," I said. "But, from context, I''m guessing he''s a famous anti-slavery advocate where you''re from?"


    "Pretty much, yeah," Cat said, nodding.


    "Right. Well, where I''m from, the subject of anti-slavery advocacy inevitably comes back to the War of Broken Chains, about four hundred years ago," I said. "The Hikaano Imperium had gotten involved in slave-trading, and the High Elves told them to knock it off. The Hikaano didn''t do that, so the war started, and at the end of it, High King Lysander Rosewood grabbed Emperor Constantine Irkanian the Seventh by the hair, dragged him off his throne and into the streets, and had him executed by an endless procession of former slaves armed with their former slavers'' whips."


    Cat blinked a few times.


    "...That''s fucking metal," Cat said. "I like you people."


    "That means a lot to me," I said, completely serious. The historical friendship between High Elves and Black Hikaano was pretty important, and there was a reason that, when Napoleon Ironheart finally settled down after the War was officially over, he did so in a predominantly black neighborhood. Even recently, with a lot of people moving into Greenwood Village because the cost of living was low and the quality of life was high, the population was still 60% black and mixed-race humans. "Anyhow. What''s your story?"


    "Oh. Uhhh..." Cat rubbed nervously at the back of her neck, wincing a little. "Honestly, there kinda isn''t one? I''m no immortal elf with hundreds of years of crazy bullshit going on in my life."


    "I''m eighteen."


    "Oh. Shit, I''m even more boring than I thought. I mean, I''m just some punk kid from San Antonio, y''know? My parents struggled, but they always kept food on the table, and I didn''t have it too bad, but..." Cat shrugged. "Iunno. I was applying to community college, and hoping I''d be able to keep my part-time job at the grocery store, when suddenly this redhead elf lady grabs me and tells me I''m the Destined Hero, and I''m gonna save the world or some shit."


    "Ugh, hate when that happens," I said.


    "Okay, I know you''re just joking, but does that actually-"


    "It arguably happened to me once, but that was more ''it turns out my mom isn''t an orphan, and her mom is one of the most infamous archmages in history,''" I said. "Wasn''t really a Destined Hero type thing, just, y''know. Nepotism." Funnily enough, while that term did arise from the Selnal Grigian word for nephew, ''nepos,'' the Selnal Grigian word for grandson was ''nepotis,'' and the term wouldn''t change at all if I tried to do a bilingual pun.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    "Gotcha, gotcha," Cat said, nodding. "You, uh... Got any advice you can share, or...?"


    "Not really," I said, shaking my head. "Being a hero or adventurer or whatever- my only advice is don''t. If you told me you wanted to do this? I''d ask if you''ve tried wanting something else. I''d tell you to sit down and wait for the feeling to pass. You, uh... don''t have that option, do you?"


    "Nope," Cat said. "Gotta say, that is not encouraging."


    "Ah, don''t listen to him, it''ll be fine," Talia said from the kitchen, pulling a cold pot of leftover beef stew out of the fridge. "He''s just a stick-in-the-mud when we aren''t in the middle of an adventure. C''mon, Joseph, just teach her how to cast Wizard spells or fight with a sword or whatever."


    "You''re a Wizard?" Cat asked, still looking at me.


    "Mhm," I said. "Good enough to teach others the absolute basics, although... You''re gonna want a real teacher, sooner than later. But, whatever, we''re at a university, we can figure something out. Before we start training you, though, I''m curious to know if there are any skills you do have, like playing an instrument, knowing how to fight, that sort of thing?"


    "Uhhh... Well, I know how to play the guitar," Cat said. "I know a little music theory, too, so, hell, I could probably make a guitar if I can''t find one. Y''all got guitars here?"


    "We''ve got six-stringed musical instruments called guitars, yeah," Faith said. "They''ve got the neck with a bunch of metal frets along it, and you press down on the strings at the neck and strum above the body?"


    "Yeah, like that," Cat said, nodding. "Yours might be strung or tuned different, but whatever, I can adapt. Y''all got a guitar here?"


    "It''s up in my room," Faith said.


    "Wait, you can play the guitar?" I asked.


    "...Not well," Faith admitted, before darting up the stairs.


    "What''s her deal?" Cat asked. "Why is it a surprise she owns a guitar?"


    "She was a Paladin, for all of two months," I said. "I figured her whole skillset amounted to hurting people and breaking things, but... well, I guess I''m not always right. Anyhow, Cat, is playing guitar basically the only thing you''ve got besides the shit everyone learns in school?"


    "Pretty much, yeah," Cat said, nodding. "Well... No, actually, my System did unlock a few illusion spells after I, uh, talked to Professor Takeda."


    "...Okay, first of all, we know you and Professor Takeda had sex," I said. "More importantly, though: what the fuck do you mean, System?"


    "Y''know, my character sheet?" Cat said, frowning and tilting her head in confusion, pursing her lips. "The thing that tells us what level we are, what class we are, what skills we have? Do y''all not have those?"


    "No," I said. "At least, I don''t."


    "Huh. Does ''Seduction Skill Level 3'' mean anything to you?"


    "No, what the hell are you talking about?"


    "It''s a permanent Occult effect centered on her," Volex said. "It''s that thing Professor Takeda was talking about- it empowers her when she acts within the bounds of a certain prescribed role. That role is likely what she means by ''class,'' and the levels and skills are simply how the effect communicates the empowerment it''s giving her, because she''s familiar with the format from somewhere." Volex tilted her head to the side, before continuing. "And that ''somewhere'' is from games that exist where she''s from, but not here."


    "...Interesting," I said quietly.


    "Yeeeeah, by the way," Cat said, before coughing nervously. "I, uh... I mean, I didn''t get to pick my class, but... well, I''m not mad about what I got, either? And, um... Well, long story short, I learn people''s skills when I have sex with ''em."


    "What counts as sex?" I asked.


    "Huh? Uh... Shit, man, I don''t know." Cat then looked at Volex, then at Talia, and then Emily. "But, uh... Well, I don''t mind experimenting to find out, if the rest of y''all are cool with it."


    A door shut upstairs, and Faith came down with a guitar in her hand. "Found it! It''s out-of-tune, but..." She paused, looking at all of us. "...The hell happened in here?"


    "Cat''s biggest skill is sex magic and we have to have sex with her if we''re going to get her ready for a dungeon crawl in just two weeks," I said.


    "Hey now- well, hang on... Actually..." Cat hummed quietly, tilting her head to the side. "...Y''know what? I can see it."


    I grimaced. "Cat, please tell me you''re realizing you''re bisexual. I am so fucking sick of lesbians looking at me and saying I''m such an effeminate and unmanly little elf that I might as well be a woman to them. I do understand there''s a difference between me and the average human man, but that''s more to do with the fact the average human man is a badly-socialized animal who struggles with the concept that women are people. Please stop deciding the fact that I know what soap is means I must secretly be a woman."


    "He''s touchy about it," Faith said, patting Cat''s shoulder. "He''ll get over it, just... Give it time."


    "All y''all can eat shit," I muttered, looking away.


    Why couldn''t they just leave me alone?

 Book 3 Chapter 8

    I woke up in my bed, and the first thing I thought was, "When the hell did I fall asleep? It was barely even noon."


    The next thing I thought was, "Oh right, I have brain damage, I''m probably going to be sleeping a lot."


    And then I thought, "How long has Volex been cuddling with me?"


    "The whole time," Volex said, because she could, in fact, literally read my thoughts, and was dedicated to only ever using that ability to be mildly annoying. "You got a headache that was bad enough to overwhelm your autohypnosis and your usual pain threshold, so I put you to sleep, Emily cast a pain reduction spell on you, and I carried you up here to sleep it off. How do you feel?"


    I thought about it for a minute.


    While I thought, I passively took in the precise nature of the cuddles. Normally, this sort of thing was just a hug but sideways, involving only one''s arms. Talia, ever adventurously affectionate, tended to also wrap her legs around my hips when she did it. However, Volex had an unfair advantage in the cuddles department that simply couldn''t be matched: she had wings, which were essentially a second pair of arms with very long fingers and an integrated blanket, and felt very nice, wrapped around me. She even managed to work her tail into this, wrapping it around one of my legs.


    "...I feel like someone pounded a nail into the top of my skull," I said, finally. "It hurts, but... It''s low enough I can go back to ignoring it." Especially because I was wrapped in the embrace of a powerful Occultist who wanted me to know that she loves me, and was literally radiating warm affection from every inch of her body.


    "I''ll be administering painkillers regardless," Volex said dryly. "Nothing is improved by you suffering needlessly, Joseph."


    "Alright, alright," I said, closing my eyes. "Ugh. This sucks. Thanks for being here for me, Volex. Honestly, thanks for everything, just in general. You''ve been great, and I don''t appreciate you enough."


    "It''s been a month, and you''ve been busy," Volex said with a shrug. "But... Thank you. It means a lot to me."


    "I would offer you a hug, but you are already wrapped around me like a weighted blanket with tits and opinions, so I don''t think a conspicuous display of physical affection would be noticeable."


    "It''s the thought that counts," Volex said. "Buuuut, if you think about it for a moment..."


    I shrugged, and gave her a kiss.


    "...I''m going to be honest," I said, after a brief pause. "I feel like I should be more weirded out about the fact you slept with my grandparents. The age thing is whatever- yes, you''re older than my dad, and I''m 18, but whatever, I''m an elf, we''re both immortal, I''m going to live forever provided I either stop getting into fistfights with gods or I continue to win them. If you were any other centuries-old Succubus, I wouldn''t care, and this tangent would stop there. But you''re not any other centuries-old Succubus, you''re Volex Ironheart, the woman my dad calls ''Aunt''. It''s... It feels like it should bother me, because you''re my great-aunt, but..."


    "Well, the reason you''re not actually bothered is because I''m not your great-aunt," Volex said dryly. "We met a month ago, when you were already grown, and neither of us recognized the other as family until you brought me home and we put the pieces together. Hell, you didn''t even hear many stories about me growing up, because Napoleon and Frederick didn''t have stories about me- I was part of the family, I lived in their house, but I just didn''t spend much time with the kids, and I most certainly didn''t raise them."


    I grunted.


    "Honestly, you''ve got an unfortunate amount of Hikaano garbage floating around in your head," Volex continued. "High Elves don''t consider these sorts of familial relationships to be associative... or distributive, or whatever the math term is. To High Elven sensibilities, Helen isn''t your grandmother- you''ve met her twice, in a capacity that ostensibly had little to do with you two being family, and both after you left childhood. She''s Ariel''s mother, sure, and Ariel is your mother, but back in my day, your mother''s mother was not necessarily your grandmother."


    "Fair..."


    "I mean, you do seem to understand it a little, when you say or think things like ''Jason isn''t actually my grandfather because this is the first time we''ve met,'' but you seem to also think that a key component is whether you like them," Volex said. "And, quite simply, it doesn''t work that way. Just because I''m Napoleon''s aunt and you actually like me doesn''t make the two of us family; we have to act like I''m family, and, well... We don''t. We act like an Occultist and a Familiar."This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    "Fair enough, I suppose," I admitted.


    "You also seem to have picked up some Hikaano nonsense about gender roles that needs to be unlearned. As a start, I will remind you that High Elves categorically did not have them, and female Mage-Knights were completely unremarkable."


    I sighed, closing my eyes. "Look. I can agree that I need to hear this, but... at this precise moment, I am horizontal due to the lingering effects of brain damage, so. You might want to do this later, when I am no longer brain damaged. Also... While I do appreciate your earlier reminder that you''re essentially a tutelary spirit who happens to have known my dad and grandparents, I think that, right here and now... I should probably be working towards learning how to use divine magic, the only source of magical healing I have, so that I can, perhaps, heal my brain damage."


    "Don''t wanna wait for Emily to do it?" Volex asked, smirking a little.


    "Well... Actually, hang on," I said, frowning. "Why isn''t she healing my brain damage? She''s a Healer, a recognized Priestess of Asklepios. She hasn''t done jack shit today, magically-speaking, so it''s not that she''s risking divine burnout."


    "Ah, so you forgot," Volex said, nodding. "Right, well, you already asked her about it, and the answer was simple: healing someone else''s brain damage is risky, because the magic is being guided by a mind and soul that isn''t the one native to that brain. It''s still doable, and for serious brain damage, it''s still done, but Emily has judged that the damage is going to heal on its own, fairly quickly, and therefore there''s hardly anything to gain from such a risky procedure. But, well, if you heal your own brain damage, that''s fine. Your mind and soul are native to your brain, so there''s already a natural alignment."


    "I see, I see... Right, well. Wish me luck."


    This would be the first time I''ve ever drawn on The Father''s light- I hadn''t had the time or energy to experiment with it before now, between the running fight with the Cult of Paimon, or recovering from heart surgery. It''d been a long fucking day, okay?


    Now... The thing about using Divine magic was... I had no idea what I was doing. Divine spellcasting was a skill that could be learned, and even taught, but the fundamental issue with the pedagogy was that gaining access to Divine magic required an initiation that could only be given by a deity, and deities only gave that when they felt like it. As such, while I''d been taught by no less than Ariel Silver in the fundamentals of Arcane magic, and had independently taught myself the fundamentals of Occult magic, I had never learned the fundamentals of Divine magic, because I simply couldn''t.


    So I laid there, in silence, eyes closed, trying various mental tricks that were like how I drew upon Arcane and Occult magic, but which simply weren''t working. Thankfully, my torment only lasted so long- I had, apparently, garnered my god''s attention, and he pulled me into a vision to talk to me.


    ---


    "Hello, Joseph," The Father said, once again wearing the face of my father. "How are you today?"


    "Tired, sore, brain-damaged," I said, before shrugging. "I gotta say, fighting a Demon King is real fuckin'' unpleasant. Please don''t make me do that again."


    "I can''t make that promise," The Father said, sighing. "What I can promise you is that, next time, you''ll be prepared. Now. Let''s begin with your first lesson in Divine spellcasting."


    ---


    Vital essence was a strange energy. It was the raw energy of life and death, sure, but it was the raw energy of life and death- the energies of life and death that naturally existed within most living things were different, and had certain subtle qualities that arose naturally from where they resided.


    Divine magic was the channeling of vital essence, straight from the source. Making the connection, from myself to my god, to tap that wellspring of vital essence, was hard at first, but with practice, it would get easier. And it turned out, The Father didn''t just understand that too much vital essence can cause injuries, he even knew why it did so.


    "Essentially," he had said, "your body is adjusted for the subtle, aspected vital energies it naturally generates. Exposure to raw vital essence causes injury because excess energy escapes into the body, and overloads the metaphysical processes that sustain your life, which are, ordinarily, in a delicate, self-correcting balance. However, your body is capable of healing, and if allowed to heal naturally, it will heal such that it is stronger and more resilient than it was previously."


    "Hey," I began, "since magicka comes from excess mana, or life energy, does that mean training my magicka reserves also trains my resilience to raw vital essence, or vise-versa?"


    "No. Magicka cares about the quantity and production of life energy, which is broadly unrelated to the resiliency of the systems that use your life energy. There is some small overlap, and over the long eons of your eternal life, you may even notice a slight benefit. But likely not."


    Admittedly, it wasn''t great news. I was completely new to Divine magic, and it turned out pretty quickly that I did in fact have a very average tolerance for vital essence- The Father cut me off as soon as I was at the optimal recovery point, thankfully. It would''ve been nice to learn that my years of training with Arcane magic had led to me having a better starting point with Divine magic, the way it had worked out for Occult magic. As it stood, though, I could only channel enough vital essence to cast a single weak healing spell, and then that was it for my spellcasting practice for today.


    "So, how was your practice session?" Volex asked, as I opened my eyes and started moving.


    "I hate being a beginner at something," I complained.


    Volex laughed.


    "You''ll want to find a way around that feeling," Volex said. "You strike me as the sort of person who''s going to keep trying new things for the rest of your life."


    "Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. Just... Let me kvetch, alright?"


    "Of course, sweetie."

 Book 3 Chapter 9

    Talia had volunteered her bed to Summer, on grounds that she didn''t sleep in it anyways- she was always either sleeping with me or with Faith, or with both of us at once.


    Over the next few days, with some help from both Emily and The Father, I managed to use enough Divine magic to fully cure my brain damage, and I was, save for a conspicuous scar in the center of my chest, fully healed from our time in the Black Desert at long last. I got better in time to take my Placement Exams, and I was fairly confident in my performance there. I definitely wouldn''t have to take the first year of beginner courses, that much was certain.


    "Alright, here''s what you do," Cat said. "You know the G chord and the C chord. I''ve got this one minute timer. You''re gonna strum a clear, clean G chord, no buzz, and then you''re gonna strum a clear, clean C chord, same way, and you''re gonna do as many chord changes as you can manage in one minute. I''m gonna write it down, you''re gonna take a little break, and then we''re gonna do it again four more times."


    She''d been teaching me how to play the guitar, and while, conveniently, we did have the right kind of guitar, we were then confronted with the fact that we only had one guitar, and so couldn''t play at the same time.


    At the same time, however, she knew of a sort of guitar that we didn''t have, and knew how to construct it, too. Or, rather, how it was constructed.


    The solution to both of these problems was simple, for the sort of lunatic I was: once I was well enough to safely use power tools, I made a pair of these so-called "electric guitars" in my workshop, and an amplifier that we used only once to confirm that they did, in fact, work; as it stood, these guitars being quiet when used without an amplifier was a blessing, as I was not very good at guitar yet.


    "Alright, that''s twenty chord changes," Cat said, as the timer dinged. She wrote down the number, and nodded. "Good work, seriously- that''s better than my first time doing this."


    "Ow, my fingers," I said, shaking my left hand.


    There were things I could say about how, as an elf, dexterity-based skills came to me easier than they would for a human, and that I had an unfair advantage over Cat. However, I wasn''t doing unbelievably better than she was, so there was no point in saying that. Unless... Oh, I know.


    "Y''know," I said, as my fingertips continued to sting, "as an elf, I''ve got a bit of an advantage over humans when it comes to learning dexterity-based skills. But, well... I gotta say: the fact that these strings hurt so fucking much is proving to be one hell of an equalizer, huh?"


    "Yeah, you gotta build up the calluses," Cat said, nodding. "Takes a while, but once they''re there... Just gotta play for a few minutes a day to keep ''em there. Simple as."


    I nodded back, the pain slowly fading. "Ugh. This sucks."


    "Mhm. But hey, once you can play a guitar, that''s a good way to get laid."


    "I want you to look at my girlfriend and tell me I need help with that."


    Cat burst out laughing.


    ---


    In the evenings, I started including Cat in the hypnosis sessions I was doing with Emily; Cat wanted to learn Arcane magic too, apparently, so that she wasn''t completely reliant on whatever her "system" gave her. After a few days, in which Cat absorbed things even more readily than Emily had, I moved on from just hypnosis to a very basic spellcasting exercise, that would make their fingertips glow. Neither of them had much in the way of magicka reserves just yet, but already, I could tell that Emily had a natural advantage over Cat.


    In the daytime, Faith and Talia had been teaching Cat what they knew of martial arts, including a few basic sword forms; Cat didn''t yet have a real sword, and I didn''t have a spare one to give her, but I''m sure getting one for her at Mount Fate of all places should be pretty straightforward.


    Slowly but surely, she was being given the absolute bare minimum basics she''d need to not immediately die in the first fight she gets into.


    "Hey," Cat said, late one evening, after her magic lesson had concluded. "Listen, I, uh... Fuck, I know this is weird, but..." She inhaled deeply, and then sighed. "...Can I have sex with you? Or your girlfriends? Just... someone? It''s how my Class works, and I feel like I''m gonna learn a lot faster if I start doing this."


    "Aren''t you a lesbian?" I said, quirking my eyebrow.


    Cat cupped her chin and tilted her head to the side, considering me carefully.


    "...Eh. Bastante bonita por un chico," she said.


    "Bastante brusca por una chica," I retorted. "Look, you wanna fuck anyone else, fine, I don''t care. Talk to them about it, it''s their decision. But I''m not entertaining your delusion that I''m secretly a transgender woman."


    "Wait, you know what those are?" Cat asked.


    "Well, yes," I said, blinking. "Elves have understood the concept for rather a long time, y''know. Humans like to pretend they don''t, of course, but it''s getting harder for them to pretend, these days."A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    "...Huh," Cat said. "Usually the hard part of cracking an egg is getting them to realize they can just choose to be a woman if they want to."


    "I am well aware of the option," I said. "I have chosen otherwise. I am a heterosexual man on purpose."


    "Well, I was planning on breaking this news in the process of explaining the concept to you, but, uh..." Cat coughed awkwardly. "Well, I''ve got a dick. Didn''t have one before I came here, I''m cis, but whatever that artifact did to me, it gave me a cock, too, and... Honestly? It''s dope as hell. It doesn''t make me feel like less of a woman, it''s more... Honestly, I feel like more of a woman now, just in a very specific way- y''know, I''m pretty butch, not super femme-y and girly, I like to be on top, and this just... It''s nice, y''know?"


    "...Good for you?" I said. "I mean, to be honest, there are a lot of reasons I''m not having sex with you, one of which is that I''m an Elven Mage-Knight, and if I ever want to ride a Unicorn, I''m not allowed to have penis-in-vagina sex. But, uh... God, this sounds stupid, but, I want you to know that the part where you have a dick is not what I''m taking exception to, and if I thought you were bisexual like Talia is, then I''d be far more okay with us fooling around."


    "I mean, thanks, but... not what I meant?" Cat said.


    "Hm?"


    "I''m saying that you could be a domineering butch woman with a dick too, if you wanted to," Cat said. "I get the feeling you like being in charge, and that you''re kinda surrounded by subby chicks- which, incidentally, fucking jackpot- so I just wanna make sure you know: you can totally be a woman and still act exactly the same way you do now. Ain''t gotta do makeup and wear dresses, just keep walkin'' around in cowboy boots, jeans, and a black leather duster, and you will have femmes- and some other butches- fallin'' all over ''emselves to hang on your arm."


    I digested this carefully, and... Some part of it was appealing, I had to admit- the sort of person she was describing was a perfect match for my favorite sort of protagonist in all that lesbian pulp fiction I kept reading, and I couldn''t help but identify with them to some extent.


    (Briefly, I wondered about my monthly subscriptions, back at Antiope''s shop. I couldn''t teleport myself at all, let alone a thousand miles back to Redwater and then again to get back here, but... Hell, we had trains, and Antiope could very much mail me my subscriptions every month. It''d take a few days to get here, sure, but that just meant New Comic Day was a different day of the month. I''d have to write to her and ask about it.)


    But, as I returned to the matter at hand, once I stopped being distracted by the logistics of my funny papers, I had settled on an answer that Cat probably wouldn''t like, but which she would hopefully understand.


    "Look," I said quietly. "I''m... I''m an elf, Cat. Elves aren''t exactly well-liked or respected in Imperial society- we''re considered inherently effeminate and unmanly. Our men aren''t real men, and our women are exotic beauties who should be trophies for the real men, the manly human men. I... I''ve never been the target of it myself, but Talia has, and it is a miserable experience, for every other human man you meet to look at you like a piece of meat, to treat you like an object that he somehow has to win away from whoever the current unworthy owner is. It sucks, Cat. And as someone who already has to deal with racist human bullshit for everything else elven about me..." I sighed, closing my eyes. "...I can''t deal with it, Cat. I''m not strong enough. I''m not Talia, I can''t grit my teeth and shrug it off like she can, I just- I can''t, Cat, even if I wanted to."


    Cat stared at me, a sorrowful sympathy in her eyes.


    She pulled me into a tight hug, and I returned it vigorously. As nice as hugs were, as much as they usually made me feel better... the hollow ache in my chest, that always flared up when I thought for too long about the miserably unfair condition of being an elf under Hikaano rule, still wouldn''t go away.


    "I''m sorry," Cat whispered. "It''s not right. It''s awful. But... You''re going to outlive all those shit-ass motherfuckers, you hear me? You''re going to help build a better world over their dead bodies, day by day. Because the moral arc of the universe is long, but it bends inevitably towards justice."


    I nodded wordlessly.


    "...I''d have to change my name," I said. "Who ever heard of a woman named Joseph? But... names are hard. And all the feminine names I can think of are just the names of people I know, who might feel weird about me stealing their name."


    "Hey, I''ve changed my name already," Cat said, patting my back. "I can do it again, if you think Catherine sounds like a good name."


    "You don''t have to-"


    "Honestly, I''m not feelin'' ''Cat,'' myself," Cat continued, bulling past me. "I''m not sure what to use next- I mean, I used to be Emily, but... Iunno, just feels too girly and demure for me. No shade to the other Emily, she''s great, love that bitch, but it ain''t right for me."


    I chuckled quietly. "Well, good luck with that."


    "What, not gonna help me?"


    "Names are hard, and I''m bad at ''em. Ask someone else."


    "I will," Cat said, nodding. "Tomorrow, though. It''s late, and we need to sleep."


    "Right. Goodnight, Kitten." I patted her on the back once more, and let go of her, stepping back to end the hug.


    "...Oh fuck you, that should not work on me as well as it did," Cat muttered, before huffing, theatrically sticking her hands in her pockets, and heading off to her (Talia''s) room.


    I smirked a little, but... it faded, as I thought some more about what she''d said.


    Why was I considering it so much? I''ve already thought about this before- I know I could be a woman if I wanted to, but I didn''t want to.


    I sighed deeply, and headed to my own room. Hopefully the feeling would pass before morning.