Ch 10
His brow furrowed as he looked over the blueprints, the architect standing by. He was elfish; standing at 6' 1" he was an inhuman white. Fair hair was to his shoulders, falling messily over pointed ears as sparkling blue jay blue eyes gleamed out from behind bifocals. He was dressed in a Civil War era Union General's Uniform, his own old uniform. The brass buttons, as well as his medals, were polished to perfection and his riding boots gleamed in the artificial lighting.
His fingers were long and narrow.
"I do hope you find everything in order sir," Swift voiced uncertainly. His current client was a legend but so were his newfound tempers. His queen would not want him to invoke the wraith of the wielder of the Omnitrix.
"Almost, and the fortifications are hidden from the normal eye?"
"Yes, unless you are specifically looking for them you will not find them."
"And I can put the entire compound into a lockdown?"
"Yes, the entrances of the main and guest house will lock themselves and will not open without the master codes. The driveways will gate themselves, the hangars and garages will bolt themselves, laser deterrents will go up around the perimeter and will only allow vehicles which have been given an opener…"
"Good, good…are the passages included in your designs?"
"Yes underground routes from every building on the grounds into the main panic room under the main house."
"Well then what about underground attacks?"
"The walls, passages and foundations will be reinforced by Versitium."
"Aerial attacks?"
"An invisible energy barrier will cover the entire complex."
"And the amenities Ms. Yamamoto wants?
"All thoroughly protected and monitorable via security cameras."
"The greenhouses?"
"The glass walls will turn to Versitium in the case of a lockdown or an attack; an artificial atmosphere and weather system will take over if that occurs, and a passage to the main house's panic room will open."
"Good, good. You do realize that once construction is complete I will have to wipe yours and your employees' memories right?"
"Of course, shall I inform my workers to start work?" Swift inquired as he rolled up the plans.
"Yes."
"Thank you sir." Swift exited the room in a quick stride, grabbing his coat from the peg as he did so.
Ben stood up and clapped his hands, the study melting from view to be replaced by his normal bedroom furniture.
A scroll appeared and he sighed, snapping his fingers and sitting down at the desk that reappeared. A fire cackled happily at his back as he unfurled the scroll and read it wearily before tossing it to the fire and dragging a quill, inkwell and some parchment towards himself and beginning to draft a letter to the Unitopian monarchy. The scroll had been a request for Maxine's hand in marriage, a marriage to the Unitopian heir Prince Cadwell. The prince was the only, legitimate, heir to the Unitopian throne and was only eight in human years. From what Ben knew he was a sickly boy and was a weak link in the government of his planet.
In flowing calligraphy he politely declined the proposal; his excuse was that Maxine was too young, in his mind, to be betrothed to anyone.
He signed it and rolled it up, incasing it in a bubble of energy. The sphere and scroll within began spinning at an infinite speed, fading from view and beginning its' journey to the Andromeda galaxy five hundred twenty three light-years away. It would get there by the month's end.
----
The robes hung on his frame, as green as his normal jacket. On a stool beside him stood Kevin, sulking silently as the deep blue robes were fitted to him. The young man had tried to wriggle his way out of the Heian period style robes and into a modern tuxedo, Ben however wasn't having it.
A light green kisode peeked out from the cuffs and collar line of the emerald hoari the groom wore, while the best man wore a sky blue kisode under his navy blue hoari. They were both wearing, when everything was said and done, a style of male robes from the Heian era called Noshỉ.
"I don't get many of you white folks in here," the old fitter wheezed, "no respect for the gods or their traditions… all about what's most convenient or fastest these days… In fact, why are you two in here?"
"It's a compromise between the bride's parents and mine," Ben spoke in the old man's native tongue, shocking the seamer so badly that he stuck a pin into…a very painful spot on Kevin's body.
"My parents wanted a western wedding, hers a traditional Shinto ceremony," he continued, "So the conciliation? I, and my best man here, dress Shinto and she, and her Matron of honor, western."
"I see…"
"Do you know where I can find the proper herbs needed for the proper incense for the proper supplication of the gods? I don't wish to offend anyone up there."
The old man smiled warmly, "Yes I do, and there's a lovely shrine just around with priests who would be willing to help you with your first prayers. I'll write down the addresses as soon as I'm done with your friend here."
"Thank you sir, thank you very much."
"Suck up," Kevin coughed, earning another pin in his very personal, sensitive area, "YWOUCH!"
The old man smirked, "You should take lessons on 'sucking up' from your very respectful friend here."
"Nah; he's just sulking over there, he can be charming when he wants to be."
"Keh."
The fitter chuckled, coughing, Ben frowned, "Are you ill sir?"
"No, my young friend, I'm paying the price of wisdom and experience. It is the mortal's lot to leave temporary footprints in the sands of time. We are born, we learn, we die."
"Give me your hands," the young man spoke, carefully stepping from his spot and grabbing the old man's hands in his own.
As soon as youth touched age warmth flowed through the old man, easing his aches and healing his lungs. Bones snapped, crackled, and popped as they realigned and reformed a bit, arthritis being banished from re-cartilaged joints. The heart became stronger, nearly blocked arteries cleared. Liver spots faded slightly as stress lines faded completely.
"What are you?" the man whispered roughly. Ben smiled, replying, "A person who loves to see good people rewarded. You've unintentionally given me glimpses of your life as you've worked, I wish to help you enjoy the best years of your life."
The warmth receded slowly, leaving the old man feeling as spry as a 40 year old.
"You're a god!" the old man spoke shakily, falling to his knees in prayer.
"No, no!" he was pulled back to his feet, "If anything I'm merely a vehicle for their good works."
The old man nodded, trembling, before returning to his work.
When it came time to be paid for his services he waved away the money, "You do not take from the messengers of the Gods; you, Mr. Tennyson, are welcome back here any time, day or night, you wish."
"I insist sir!" Ben protested, trying to foist the money onto the old man.
"Save it, for I shall only burn it at the shrine in thanks."
And so it continued on for a half an hour until Kevin forcibly dragged his comrade, still arguing his point, out of the shop and into the car.
"Ben," he warned as his friend made to reenter the shop, "if you go back in there I will injure you in ways that will make your wedding night impossible to enjoy."
"But the old man!" Ben protested, "Our payment—!"
"No worries," the raven haired youth smirked, throwing him the keys, "slipped it into the register."
"Bad bad man you," Ben chuckled, good naturedly wagging his finger at the rogue, "what would Gwendolyn say?"
"You aren't going to tell her, I've already gone soft enough for her as it is."
Before the brunette could comment his speakerphone came on-line, "Good afternoon Ben Tennyson speaking…"
"Daddy!" Maxine screeched, "We've an emergency!"