E-Rantel, the fortress city that serves as the Re-Estize kingdom's stronghold against the tripoint of the Baharuth Empire and the Slane theocracy. It boasts the highest concentration of pharmacists in the land, and a thriving mages and adventures guild to back it up. It was also the place where the next large expansion of Wesley Steel Works would take place.

While purchasing a carriage and hiring a driver would've been a negligible expense in the grand scheme of things, Stockwell much preferred to sit at the reins himself, as it alleviated some of his stress. Compared to sitting inside of an enclosed carriage, sitting at the reins would allow him to spot a potential ambush in the making, and allow a quicker escape thereafter. It also could have simply been that focusing on controlling horses offered a small distraction from the noise within his brain.

Niven enjoyed it quite thoroughly as well, because riding next to his master often lended many opportunities for conversation. Stockwell too was at his happiest when he was sharing his knowledge with others.

The two passed through E-Rantel's innermost gatehouse, the passageway into the administrative district of the city.

"Nano...machines?"

"Indeed, machines that exist on the scale of nanometers."

Niven leafed through his lesson on metric prefixes, "Deci...centi...milli...micro… Nano! B-But, that's so small!"

Stockwell chuckled lightly, "Of course it's small, the machines couldn't do their job if they weren't. Though I think it should be noted that the smallest ones were never actually smaller than a few dozen nanometers, the prefix 'nano' at the time was more or less just used to refer to things that were very very small."

"But still! Even two dozen nanometers, that's like… 40 water molecules across! That's smaller than viruses! How do you even begin to construct a machine that small?"

"Well, like I said before, the truly small ones were uncommon, and primarily for medical and military purposes. On that scale they're pretty much indistinguishable from drugs, so what qualifies them as nanomachines was their complex use of mechanical bonds."

"Mechanical bonds?"

"Mhmm, they're more or less de facto bonds that arise from the spatial properties or topology of their molecules. It's like how the rings on chainmail can stay together without actually adhering to each other. On the molecular scale, structures like this are called catenanes, and are just one of many different types of mechanically interlocked molecular architectures.

The next step of course would then be to compile many types of these mechanical bonds together into a cohesive unit that would have the emergent properties of your desired purpose. That purpose though is primarily medical, such as transporting certain proteins around the body, destroying the cell walls of specific types of infectious bacteria, or to perhaps serve as an enzyme for a catalytic reaction. Things like that. On Earth, there was practically nothing medbots couldn't cure, so long as you could afford the treatment."

Niven suddenly had a very excited look on his face."So what you're saying is that you have billions of tiny machines swimming inside of you keeping you healthy?"

"Haha, well, no. By now, all of the nanomachines have left my system. If I were to be infected with a nasty virus or an antibiotic resistant bacteria as I am now, chances are I wouldn't make it."

"A-Antibiotic resistant bacteria? You mean like something that could survive penicillin?"

Stockwell held a half grim, half satisfied smile. "There's nothing to worry about. Bacteria are quick to adapt, but not that quick. This world will probably get a good hundred, maybe even two hundred years of bliss before a superbug comes along and threatens to wipe out the human race. If you guys remember not to over prescribe that is."

"Y-You sound like you're speaking from experience."

Stockwell laughed lightly. "Not personal experience at least. There was a strain of antibiotic resistant bacteria that came around about 20 years before I was born, long before we had nanomachines. It was called the second black death; killed around 4% of the global population in a matter of 2 years. I guess that would've been over 300 million at the time."

Niven laughed along uncomfortably as they continued down the street, trying not to think about how his wonderful discovery of penicillin several months prior would be undone in a matter of a hundred years. Stockwell waved pleasantly to a merchant on the side of the road who recognized him.

"Ahem, anyways, nanomachines were used for more than just medical purposes."

"Like what?"

"There were much larger nanomachines, roughly the size of small bacteria; large enough to store information, but small enough to travel into the brain. They were used almost universally as substitutes for external computers for work and entertainment."

"Computers?"

Stockwell started to do a double take but stopped himself. "Ah, I guess it would make sense that you don't know what computers are. Hmmm… " He furrowed his brow, trying to figure out ways to explain the concept in terms that the boy would understand.

"Well, computers did so many things and were so integral to society and culture that I doubt I can produce a fair description of them, but let's just say for now that computers were devices that could store, create, and reproduce information and images, as well as connect people from across the world instantly via the internet." He looked hopefully to his side at Niven.

The boy cocked his head. "Hmmmmmm… that sounds both vague and amazing!" He gave Stockwell a cheesy smile. It was clear he didn;t understand but was trying to be enthusiastic.

"Haha, thank you, I guess I should tell you more about computers later. But in regards to the nanomachines, they were basically able to connect to the brain directly and, with the help of a secondary neural analog interpolator, allow the user to interact with a virtual world. It's something that traditional external computers just couldn't emulate. Most systems required a neural port implanted on the nape of the neck to transfer the data."

Niven rocked back in his seat to steal a look at the back of Stockwell's neck.

"Don't bother looking for it, Niven, I never got one."

"Why not? So far you've done nothing but hype up this whole nano-brain-computer thing."

Stockwell rubbed the back of his neck and smiled bitterly. "I was more of an old school kind of guy and did all my work on external devices. And there was also the matter of hacking . I was a somewhat high profile person back on Earth, so establishing a neural link would be like asking for every hacker in the world to take a crack at accessing my brain and extracting information, or commit crimes using my persona and so on. Even if I could afford the best anti-hacking software in the world, it was just safer to forgo getting a neural port altogether. Most other high-profile people do the same. Did that make sense?"

He looked to Niven and saw that he comprehended practically none of it. "Ahem, anyways, it wasn't that much of a loss. People generally used those kinds of neural overlay systems for highly niche software and video games, neither of which I used or had much interest in."

"Video games?"

"Mhm, people could play games in highly detailed virtual worlds that could replicate many senses that normal VR gear couldn't. Basically, people could have fun with each other and compete in fantasy worlds—"

Stockwell looked around at the building and the people around him going about their days. "— Actually, I guess worlds much like this one, funny how that works." He wrinkled up his nose as they passed a cart filled with manure. "Though I also heard that they could replicate smells among other things. The level of detail in those is arbitrary at times. Post processing is all done client side via neural smoothing to fill in perceptual gaps. It's quite buggy and I hear it can take weeks to properly calibrate for first time users."

It was an utterly, pleasantly, average day in E-Rantel. And since they were currently in the richest district of the city, the streets were well maintained and the passersby wore fashionable clothing. The two of them received a few looks since Stockwell's sharp features and well trimmed gray hair had begun to grow quite recognizable by many in the kingdom, or atleast many in the ruling class who cared about the market. Stockwell's usual response was a polite wave, though Niven also caught him periodically waving around a glare behind their backs. He never really did his master's motivations, in fact he often wondered if the man himself even did.

"Say, uh, Mr. Stockwell." Niven asked.

"Yeah?"

"Was there ever a Mrs. Stockwell?"

The question caught Stockwell off guard. Most people on Earth knew him as a forever-bachelor, so people generally assumed he was aromantic and/or asexual and tended not to ask. It had been quite some time since someone had asked him about it.

"No." Stockwell replied simply after some time.

Niven followed up immediately. "Why not?"

The truth of the matter was that Stockwell was not aromatic or asexual at all. He was certain he experienced such feelings on a regular basis. He even had such feelings for Vera originally, but had all but nipped them in the bud so he was certain that he wasn't experiencing Stockholm syndrome while he was imprisoned.

He did very much have the desire to love someone and to be loved by someone, and to be able to trust someone with all of his human vulnerabilities and thoughts.

But, it was equally true that he was a hopelessly aggrieved misanthrope, and an antinatalist by extension. On Earth, he was ashamed of what he and the rest of humanity had rotted into, and he did not see himself as worthy of love.

Moreover, for people who did approach him claiming they wished to be his friend or lover, he would never be able to trust them at their word. He would assume they were only after his money.

Much of these internalized feelings carried over even into the new world.

But he didn't have the ability to articulate all of this to Niven.

Stockwell gave an exaggerated shrug in response to Niven's question. "Just never found the one I guess."

Niven smiled. "Well there's still time!"

Stockwell smirked. "Niven, you realize I'm 66, right?"

Niven's mouth went agape. "You are!? You look like you're not a day past 40!"

"Yes, silly. Didn't I tell you? Modern medical science. If you could afford it, you could slow your aging drastically. Everything from your organs to your neural plasticity."

Niven scratched his chin. "Okay. So you're still technically younger though, in body right? So there's still time!"

Stockwell rolled his eyes and they continued down the street.

"What did you say Miss Vera was doing again?"

"She's staying back at the inn to meet up with some people from the mages guild. Since we're in E-Rantel, I wanted to get samples of all the spices, materials, items, and etcetera created solely by magic. It's something I've been rather curious about."

"What's so curious about it?"

"It's been on my mind lately since I encountered Blue Rose—"

"—What!? You met Blue Rose!?"

"Gah!"

Niven's enthusiastic interruption caused Stockwell to jerk on the reins and upset the horses. The result being a pair of startled neighs followed by a hasty apology from the boy.

Niven blushed. "S-sorry. But did you actually meet Blue Rose though!?"

Stockwell sighed and glanced to his side at the boy. "Well, yes, more or less, I ran into them in the capital… before they were killed by Jaldabaoth… that is."

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that…" As he said that, the boy's smile slowly dissipated.

"That's beside the point. That point being that the magic caster of the group was able to create objects...ah, er... quartz crystals I presume, from seemingly nothing. And not just a few grams or so mind you, but great big, silica mongering chucks."

"But Is that really so surprising though? Don't most spells create at least some kind of matter? Like fireballs or lightning, even that is matter, right?"

"Yes." Stockwell nodded, "But don't forget about the conservation of mass and energy."

Niven looked up in remembrance. "… but wait. That's really only a scientific thing, no? Surely magic has its own rules."

"I'm sure it does." Stockwell agreed, "But even so, creating energy from seemingly nothing is one thing, but mass, well, that's an entirely different matter." He chuckled, "No pun intended."

He reigned in the horses as they rounded a corner and continued. "Have you ever heard of a little equation called energy equals mass times the speed of light squared? Otherwise known as E=mc^2?"

The boy shook his head.

"Of course you haven't, I haven't actually taught you any nuclear chemistry yet but I guess I'll go ahead and give you a little sneak peak now."

Niven's eyes lit up in anticipation. "Please do!"

Stockwell smiled. "What it means in simple terms is that mass and energy are interchangeable, that they're both simply forms that matter can take on. Well, actually it's more correct to say that the only thing that distinguishes mass from energy is its velocity as the full equation is actually E^2=(mc^2)^2 + (pc^2)^2, p being momentum. What that really establishes though is that momentum, work, kinetic energy, etc., aren't just able to be converted into mass but are in and of themselves, mass itself and vice versa of course. Afterall, light can be affected by gravity despite being massless. Of course there are other things we learned later down that road that can be expanded upon such as its relation to unified field theory and fundamental resonance outlined in the past century works with string theory and Shackleford's 2073 rendition of Einstein's general relativity…" He realized he was getting off topic.

"Ahem, well, all you really need to know right now is that an object's inherent energy can more or less be measured in joules by multiplying its mass by the square of the speed of light."

He turned to look at Niven. "All of that making sense?"

Niven appeared to be very deep in thought. And after several seconds of contemplation, a slightly concerned look appeared on his face. "Yeah, I think I got it, in what units is that equation?"

Stockwell saw his face and chuckled. "Ahh, don't look like that. Energy in joules, mass in kilograms, and the speed of light being 299,792,458 meters a second."

Niven's concerned look only deepend. "S-So what you're saying is, is that a kilogram of mass is equivalent to…" Niven squinted, fumbling with the massive number in his head.

Stockwell saw this and smiled with innocent schadenfreude, waiting a little while before interrupting the boy's futile arithmetic struggle. "299,792,485 squared is roughly 8.98755179 x 10^16."

Niven looked up in amazement. "How did you do that in your head so quickly!?"

"I used to work with that number on an almost daily basis. So far I've taught you about all kinds of scientific fields: Biology, Chemistry, Physics. All of which are important and I've taken great care to study them, but really my true fortes are focused in the subfields of nuclear chemistry and nuclear physics. I was a nuclear chemist by trade after all."

"Woah! That's so cool." Niven smiled brightly, but his boyish amazement quickly diverged when he remembered what he was calculating. "Okay okay, so what you were saying then was that a kilogram of mass is roughly equivalent to… 90 quadrillion joules!? That's insane!? That's awesome! That's like… a million Veras casting lightning bolts!"

"Haha, well I guess that's one way to think of it."

Niven held out his hand and examined it in amazement. "B-But doesn't that mean anything with mass is capable of destroying cities? Like I mean, just my hand here probably weighs at least 400 grams."

"You're correct in a sense. After all, the first nuclear bomb used in warfare only converted 700 milligrams of mass into energy… wait, is that right? — But didn't Little Boy weigh over 4 tonnes?"

Stockwell suddenly looked up in compilation, leafing through his memories. "You know what? I think that is right, christ, how terribly inefficient those early nuclear devices were. Though, I guess the gentlemen on the Manhattan project can be forgiven, they were practically in the stone age of nuclear science."

"...Nuclear bomb…?...Manhattan project-?"

"—At any rate, it only took about 700 milligrams of uranium-235 and 238 to instantly vaporize 60,000 people at Hiroshima."

Niven knew not of these names or places, but he did understand what "vaporize" meant, and that it was not a thing that generally happened to 60,000 people at once. He looked back at his hand in all of its 400 gram glory. "S-So what you're saying mathematically… my hand contains enough energy to destroy all of E-Rantel?"

Stockwell looked Niven over. "Yes, in a purely theoretical sense. If your hand spontaneously decided to go nuclear, I imagine E-Rantel would be flattened and the better half of Re-Estize would turn into a charred wasteland. That, and about everyone from here to Baharuth and the Slane Theocracy would end up with third-degree burns and shattered windows."

Niven looked back at his hand. "T-Then—"

Stockwell raised his own hand to stop him. "But that's all theoretical of course though. Body parts don't just spontaneously undergo nuclear dismantlement. Converting mass into energy is a notoriously complex and difficult task. I doubt that unless magic casters can find a way to manifest Uranium-235 or other readily fissile materials into existence, this mass-creating phenomenon won't actually be of any practical use in terms of generating energy, at least not until we atleast have type III fusion reactors or asimovium polymers. So as of now, it's merely a curiosity."

Stockwell saw Niven shift in the seat, relief filling the boy's face. "Wait, you weren't seriously concerned about spontaneously blowing up were you?"

Niven blushed and shook his head. "O-Of course not."

Stockwell suppressed a small chuckle and they continued on in silence.

Niven softly caressed his hand as they drove down E-rantel's cobbled roads, his mind filling with more questions than answers.

His voice was quiet, "I was just thinking about how cool science is. At how exciting your world must have been. Unlike here where only a few people can use magic, everyone could use science and technology instead."

A petite smile grew on Niven's face.

"It's just, all these things you've told me about your world, Earth. You all knew so much about the way the universe worked, biology, physics, chemistry, it's like you had everything figured out. And you all possessed technology and medicine that could take care of all your needs... and even though you mentioned that you had these...these bombs and militaries...I still just can't imagine Earth being anything other than a utopia."

Niven turned to Stockwell after he failed to reply for several seconds. "Master?"

The scientist seemed to be in very deep thought. "...Sorry, it's just that… yes. Yes you're right Niven. It would be hard to imagine how a people with such mastery over the universe could create anything but a Utopia."

Niven wanted to ask further, but the forlorn expression on his master's face told him that it was probably best to leave him to his thoughts. That was also okay though, as Niven had much to think about as it stood already, mainly, the information his master had shared with him thus far and the wonders assured to come.

They continued onward in silence once more. And Stockwell took a long, deep breath of the fresh Re-Estize air, musing to himself all the while how the clean air on this planet was free of charge.

"Niven, do you know where you're going after this?"

The boy was lost in his thoughts.

"Niven."

"—hah?" Niven realized he was zoning out and quickly apologized. "Ah, s-sorry. What were you saying?"

Stockwell gave him a once over and repeated himself. "Do you know where you're going after this?"

"Yeah, I'm setting up the foundry. It's in the middle district."

"Yes." Stockwell nodded. "The warehouse should already be vacant. Materials for the foundry should also already be there. There's also a few men from our branch in E-Pespel that should meet you there to help things along. If all goes well and Renner hasn't decided to screw me over yet then I should be able to catch up to you in a couple hours." Stockwell noticed that Niven was zoning out once more, "Hey, you alright?"

"—Hmm, oh, yeah, I'll be fine by myself." Niven straightened up a bit. His master's subject matter had changed from science to business, and that entailed both a change in tone and in attitude. Frankly, he didn't particularly enjoy talking to the steel trader, and even worse, Rhamnusia.

Stockwell looked Niven over one final time. "Anyways it looks like the mayoral building is just up ahead. I'll be seeing you soon hopefully."

…

Unlike most territories within the kingdom of Re-Estize that were under the control of their respective nobles, the city of E-Rantel was under direct jurisdiction of the crown. As such, all taxes and regulations for the city need to be negotiated with the mayor who ruled in the king's place. His name was Panasolei Gruze Day Rettenmaier.

"You have friends in high places, Wesley-san." Rettenmaier's greasy jowls jiggled joyfully. "You wouldn't mind sharing secrets on how to get on her good side with a friend sometime would you?"

The mayor's appearance was that of an unremarkable pile of oily flesh with more than generous girth. On top of that, he also breathed like a pig sometimes which painted him in an incompetent and overall untrustworthy light.

This was all an elaborate facade however, as Rettenmaier was actually a very bright individual who used his appearance and mannerisms to catch his possible enemies off guard. On the inside, he was a noble belonging squarely to the royal faction and a hard worker who cared deeply for his citizens. And It was for precisely these reasons that he was appointed as mayor of E-Rantel in the first place.

Stockwell smiled bitterly to himself , "I'm afraid you would be a bit too good natured for her liking Mr. Rettenmaier."

"Ha ha! Nonesene! How could anyone be too good natured for a sweet little girl like that?" The mayor let out an exaggerated laugh.

Stockwell was obligated to laugh along, after all, this was not the kind of laugh one used in response to a joke, but one used to solidify positive relations between two parties that conducted business. However, unlike Rettenmaier, Stockwell knew the truth behind Renner's innocent appearance and her imminent betrayal hanging over him like the Sword of Damocles. He could not bring himself to laugh genuinely.

A harsh chuckle was all he could manage. Rettenmaier could obviously sense something was afoot, but could also tell that it was probably due to personal matters and thus not something he should try prying into. And because the deal on the table was favorable for E-Rantel, it didn't take much self convincing to get back to the original conversation.

"… Ahem, anyways Wesly-dono, allow me to summarize what is currently on the table. The taxation on all ore imports are to be cut drastically, in addition top priority to all ores and forging implements within the city is to be allocated to E-Rantel Steel Works, formally named E-Pespel Steel Works. In exchange, E-Rantel Steel Works is to move its base of operations to E-Rantel in addition to the various auxiliary benefits promised via the royal faction. This was all outlined in the letter I received from her Highness yesterday."

Stockwell nodded in agreement. Rettenmaier reviewed the contract on his desk. "As it seems Wesley-san, this deal is rather one sided, don't you think? Moving your entire base of operations from E-Pespel to here simply to dodge taxes on ore imports seems excessive, especially since I hear that you've already had a deal cut with the Marquis Pespea."

"It's true that the larger moiety of my company is located in E-Pespel," Stockwell replied, "And that I indeed have some deals with Pespea already worked out. However, the only reason E-Pespel became the home of my company in the first place was simply due to its proximity to my home village of sorts."

"E-Rantel on the other hand has a nice centralized location connected to the major trade routes of Baharuth and the Theocracy which will be necessary for my company to go international, and it has greater access to the mining companies I rely on. And although small, the taxation rate on ore imports in E-Pespel is not zero, so moving to E-Rantel will be beneficial in the long run should this deal go through. There is also a point to be made that making the move itself isn't that costly because a large part of the company's assets exists in infrastructure within E-Pespel that physically can't be moved. As such, what's actually going to be making the move is a large quantity of steel and coins that will be stored in a warehouse here. I obviously plan to build more foundries here as soon as possible, but I do already have one being made here as we speak."

Rettenmaier smiled, "So I heard. It seems you already anticipated this deal going through."

Stockwell allowed himself a polite laugh. "I hope that's not a problem."

"Certainly not." Rettenmaier presented the contract along with a pen. "Sign here."

He took the parchment from Rettenmaier and signed his formal name. Wesley Aamon.

Rettenmaier took back the contract. "I'll write up some orders and send out a runner right away to make sure the information gets to the right people. Why don't you wait in the waiting area until I get confirmation from my secretary? It shouldn't take that long."

Rettenmaier stood and outstretched his hand. Stockwell shook it firmly. "Of course, I'll be here in case anything comes up. Pleasure doing business."

"The pleasure is all mine."

After that, Stockwell was shown to the waiting room by an attendant.

It was quite large and luxurious, but that was to be expected of the mayoral building. However it looked unnaturally large by virtue of the fact that it currently only had a single occupant.

He was a big-bellied man dressed in elegant clothes. He was clean shaven, with black hair streaked with many strands of white, evidence of his ripe age. His name was Baldo Lauffray, a wealthy provisions merchant.

Because of where the waiting room was located, Stockwell had run into him briefly several minutes prior on his way to meet the mayor and had not come off with a negative impression of him. To Stockwell, he was just an honest, if not calculating, merchant who was motivated by profit but did not neglect the people who worked under him. And unlike many of the nobles in the country, he was a self made man. In other words, he was someone Stockwell could tolerate.

The attendant closed the door behind him and Baldo gestured for Stockwell to join him at the seat next to him.

"I trust your deal went through alright then, Wesley-san?"

He smiled and took his seat. "Indeed, though there wasn't any doubt in the first place."

"I imagine that's because it was all planned to go through beforehand by the golden princess and that scheming mind of hers, am I right?" Baldo gave him a sly wink.

"That…" Stockwell immediately went on guard. "You know about Renner?"

The only people who were supposed to know about Renner's true intelligence and intentions were Marquis Raeven, Prince Zanack, and himself, so a provisions merchant operating out of E-Rantel knowing about it was nothing short of worrying. He instinctually glanced around the room to make sure no one else was listening in.

The look on Stockwell's face was all Baldo needed to see to know what he was thinking. "Haha, you say her name without any honorifics and with such tone. I guess that confirms it then, that the golden princess is truly a demon behind closed doors?"

Stockwell looked him over closely, but it seemed that his comments weren't meant as a pretense of blackmail. "It's okay Wesley-san, I just wanted to confirm my suspicions. I had received information a while ago that suggested that there might have been more than meets the eye when it came to her. I don't plan on telling anybody about it."

"You said you received information…"

"That's correct… Wesley-san?"

Stockwell had already retreated deep within his mind trying to connect the dots.

The information he received only "suggested something" about Renner's intelligence, I doubt that means the information would've been from Renner herself since she would never be careless enough as to hint to her true nature without the intention to reveal herself fully. So from the sound of it, the information he received was probably something like an offhand comment that merely suggested the possibility of Renner's importance. But the only people who would've been in the position to make such a comment besides myself would've been Raeven and Zanack, neither of which I can picture having any reason to bring Lauffray into the fold, and If they did, I'm sure Raeven would've told me about it. So that being the case, who could've possibly told him about her? No one else should know about Renner...

Stockwell's eyes suddenly opened wide in realization. Wait! There is one more person!

"Um… Wesley-san—?"

"—Mr. Lauffray, this information wouldn't have happened to come from someone named Demiurge would it?"

Baldo was a merchant with many years of experience behind him, as such, he should've been well versed at holding a poker face. However, even he could not hold back his anxiety at the sound of the name, and now it was his turn to look around the room nervously for eavesdroppers.

"Yes… the truth is that I actually wanted to talk to you about something else. But the fact that you know that name and you're working with the golden princess means that you probably know more than me."

"What is it, Mr. Lauffray?"

"Something big is coming, I don't know what it is, but it's big, something that concerns all of Re-Estize."

Stockwell's eyes narrowed. "What makes you say that?"

"You see Wesley-san, due to the nature of my trade, not a single strand of wheat leaves this kingdom without me knowing about it."

Baldo leaned in and began talking in a hushed voice. "So one day, I guess about four months ago, it became evident that an exorbitant amount of grain was being exported from Re-Estize secretly. And you see, it's not like it was just being exported normally, none of the trade routes showed any signs of additional trafficking. I don't know how they did it, but it was like all of it was being teleported out of the kingdom."

"Teleported you say? Like with magic?"

Baldo nodded grimly. "What's more, there was evidence of large quantities of provisions being moved around in the capital but no evidence of food actually coming out of city stockpiles, noble holdings, or even market supplies. The only possible way that could happen would be if the food was coming out of the royal stockpile, in other words, the entire national reserve."

"What? But how, and why?"

Baldo leaned in further, his voice gettin even quieter. "Indeed, that's what I wanted to know as well. The provisions that go into the national reserve are procured by taxes and thus belong to the crown and the people of Re-Estize, they're not supposed to be for sale."

"Just to be clear, how much food are we talking about here?" Stockwell asked.

"The national reserve is this kingdom's way of staving off a famine in the event of a failed harvest. It's enough to sustain the population of Re-Estize for about half a year."

Stockwell mulled the figure over in his head. "That's… a lot of food. And you said this was all just disappearing from the capital? Does teleportation magic of that scale even exist?"

Baldo shook his head, "I have no clue, but needless to say, I found myself hot on the tracks of a massive conspiracy. And that's when it happened."

"When what happened?"

"After several days of careful investigation, I managed to find a lead, a foreign noble who was visiting the capitol. Someone happened to witness large quantities of food being moved to a warehouse under her jurisdiction. I actually met her here in E-Rantel along with her butler quite some time ago, their names were Lady Solution and Sebas."

"Wait…" Remembrance flashed through Stockwell's mind. "This Sebas… was he tall and gentlemanly? Maybe in his late sixties? Always wears white gloves?"

Baldo nodded. "That's him. I'm assuming you're familiar with Lady Solution then?"

"No, I only ran into Sebas by chance in the capital. I lended him a hand on a couple of occasions, but that's all. I never met Solution."

"I see…" Baldo stopped to organize his thoughts. "Regardless, on my way to Lady Solution's residence to question her about my findings, I was stopped by a man named Demiurge."

Stockwell could've sworn he heard Baldo's heart skip a beat. "He looked normal on the outside, tall, handsome, adorned in foreign clothing. But that was only the outside. The kind of air he gave off was, well, nothing short of terrifying. Like he wasn't human. Like he was something evil. I honestly thought I was going to die from just a single word."

"Well? What happened next?" Stockwell's breathing was staccato and filled with anxiety.

Baldo shook his head nervously. "I-I can't say in detail. He offered me several lucrative business deals. His intelligence is devilish. The wealth and power he commanded was unimaginable. There was no way I could turn him down, you see."

"...Indeed."

"What's more, he said that if I had questions about anything that I should ask her highness. That's why I asked you about her earlier to see if she truly was hiding something. And now that I think about it, the disappearing food must be in part her doing. She's a member of the royal family after all, so she probably has knowledge about the palace and loopholes therein that people wouldn't normally be able to get their hands on."

"I see…" Stockwell thought long and hard about everything he had just learned. Things were beginning to make sense in his mind, but he still couldn't quite get a grasp of the complete picture. There was also another thing that didn't make sense to him.

"Why tell me this, Mr. Lauffray? It seems like this is rather classified information."

"Haha…" Baldo laughed nervously. "Hearing you say that is starting to make me regret this. Ahem, no, I told you because it seemed to me that we were in similar situations, and that it would be safe to tell you. Are we not?'

"What do you mean by similar situations?"

"You're a merchant who's working with the golden princess and you're also probably working with Demiurge. And from the way you spoke his name earlier, it's clear you also have your reservations about him? Am I wrong?"

"No… No, I see." Stockwell nodded slowly. "Yes, indeed we are in similar situations."

Baldo allowed a small and hopeful smile to grace his face. "Perhaps it was really all my imagination, but there was something evil about Demiurge, something that disturbed me enough to imprint his image into my mind."

"I can relate…" Stockwell recalled how a similar thing had happened to him when he encountered Jaldabaoth.

"And while I may be working with him now, I find it hard within myself to fully trust someone like that."

He then turned and made direct eye contact with Stockwell. "You're like me, Wesley-san. A commoner, a merchant who worked up from nothing, we ought to be able to understand each other. If we're and the rest of Re-Estize are to survive, we need to stick together." He outstretched his hand.

"You know, Mr. Lauffray. I could've just as easily been a spy working for Demiurge all this time. Admitting something like that could've meant your execution."

Stockwell smiled and grasped his hand. "You've got a lot of balls. I hope I can rely on you when shit hits the fan."

Baldo returned the smile, and this time it was filled with genuine hope. "Likewise."

The door at the end of the room opened with bravado. "Huzzah!"

It was Rettenmaier who had a wide smile on his face. "I just got a confirmation from my secretary. You're all set, Wesley-dono."

His eyes fell on Baldo.

"Lauffray, you're still here?"

"Yes." Baldo replied. "I was just having a word with our friend here."

"That's great!" Rettenmaier said. "We're all acquainted."

Rettainmair strutted up to the two of them. "This calls for a celebration, Wesley-dono. How about we go for some drinks?"

Stockwell politely put up his hand. "No. Really. Thank you for the offer but I have a lot on my plate."

Rettenmair wrapped his arm over his and Baldo's shoulders. He spoke in a low voice. "Look, Wesley-dono. You're part of E-Rantel now. From now on, being my friend is also part of your job. Isn't that right, Laufrray?"

Baldo nodded. "It's true. It's not wise to turn down the mayor's invitation to go drinking."

Stockwell sighed. It seemed to him that there was no escape from this. "Alright, I guess I have some time."

"Great!" Retenemaier said. "Do you want to come too, Baldo?"

"I have a small errand to run, but I'll be done with that soon. I'll join you two in an hour or so."

"Then let's go Wesley-dono!" Rettenmaier said with a grin. "I know a great place."

…

Rettenmair led Stockwell to a small bar near the mayoral building.

The bar looked small from the outside, but upon entering, it was clearly a high class establishment.

The furnishings looked expensive and there appeared to be a dedicated staff of well dressed waiters.

Rettenmaier called out to the waiters immediately upon entering the bar. "Isario-kun. A bottle of your finest Naerul Malt, please."

The waiter nodded and left.

Rettenmair guided Stockwell to a booth off in the corner where someone was already sitting. "We're in luck! Looks like we got some company."

The man in the booth looked up and saw the pair approach and beckoned them to sit. "Hey! Mayor! Here for a drink?"

"Is there any other reason to be here?" Rettemair smiled, "Wesley-dono, this is my friend Arenio-san. We go way back."

"Nice to meet ya'." Arenio grinned and shook Stockwell's hand.

Stockwell returned the hand shake. "You too."

They all sat down in the booth together.

"Just think of me as the Mayor's drinking buddy." Arenio said.

"Look uh..." Stockwell protested quietly. "I don't really drink."

"You don't drink!?" Rettenmaier and Arenio exclaimed in unison.

Stockwell recalled the last time he had drank alcohol. It wasn't too bad, he just didn't have much tolerance for the depressant known as ethanol.

But it wasn't the alcohol he was worried about. Later in life he had become addicted to amphetamines and he overly indulged in hallucinogens.

If there was one benefit to being locked in a cell for a year, it's that it had forced his body to readapt to its factory settings. He was smart enough to know that he had a proclivity for addiction. It wouldn't be wise to start up old habits again.

"No, I really don't like liquor all that much." Stockwell said.

"Well that sounds to me like you just haven't had any good drinks!"

The waiter returned to the table with a fine crystalline bottle containing a light brown liquid and a trio of short glasses.

"You're stressed, Wesley-dono. It's written on your face." Rettenmaier said. "We both are. We have a lot of responsibility on our shoulders "

Rettenmaier poured himself, Arenio, and Stockwell a glass. "I won't force you if you don't want to. But I would highly recommend at least tasting it."

Stockwell glanced at Rettenmaier's satisfied face. It was evident that the man before him deeply enjoyed this little custom of his. It was almost as though Stockwell could see the stress marks recede from Rettenmaier's face in real time.

Arenio leaned over the table. "I also got some herbal tea here that will take some of the edge off if you're really that amiss about alcohol."

Arieno slid a mug across the table containing a greenish liquid.

"Herbal tea?" Stockwell asked suspiciously.

"Eh." Areino shrugged playfully. "You know. It's got them herbs and stuff in it."

Stockwell pursed his lips and gave him a knowing nod. "Right. Herbs."

He looked back down at the glass of liquor that Rettenmaier placed in front of him. The sap-colored liquid gently made swirls in the glass.

Indeed, he was tempted, albeit mildly. It would be nice to quiet some of the noise echoing relentlessly in his mind.

He reasoned to himself that in medieval times, the alcohol content of beverages was generally far lower than what it was in modern times.

He'd have this one glass so as not to offend Rettenmaier.

…

Baldo entered the bar. He heard some commotion going on.

He spotted Rettenmaier and Arenio standing off to the side with a perplexed expression on his face.

"Rettenmaier. Oh and Arenio-kun is here too. What's all this commotion… about…"

He followed their gazes to see the Gray Wolf standing up on one of the tables giving an impassioned speech to a small gathering of patrons.

His speech was slurred and he was unbalanced. He was clearly drunk.

"—so someone had a fantastic idea! A brilliant idea!" Stockwell's words were filled with acid. "So idiotically genius no one had thought it possible before! If we kill all the plants then everybody will have to buy air from us! Fucking brilliant! A tax on life itself! The insects died, the flowers died. The butterflies died… the butterflies died."

One of the patrons grumbled. "Oh gods he's on the butterflies again."

Baldo whispered to Arenio and Rettenmaier. "How many drinks has he had?"

"A bit." Arenio said. "I also may have given him some of my special tea."

Baldo frowned. "Arenio-kun…"

"What?" Arenio put up his hands defensively. "Mayor man said he looked stressed. I was just doing my part. No one told me he had the tolerance of a toddler."

They watched as Stockwell grabbed a bottle from one of the patrons and downed it.

"Should we stop him?" Badlo asked.

Rettenmaier shrugged. "He's not hurting anybody. Besides, he's quite fun to listen to."

Stockwell's slurred words drifted over him as he spoke with passion. "It was the final straw, we broke. There was no more hope anymore. No butterflies anymore. Only caterpillars. No need for them anymore."

Stockwell pantomimed squiggle shapes with his fingers like he was giving a performance. "Just clone the fertile egg cells in vats, grow them until they're nice any juicy, dip them in barbeque sauce, wrap them in polypropylene thats gonna end up in some deep sea fish's gut, ship them halfway across the world by burning ten times their weight in fuel, and sell them online from a warehouse for a dollar ninety-two a piece."

He slunk back into the stool. "The material base for an uprising has eroded. The working class has betrayed mankind and themselves. The historic opportunity for revolution has passed, buried in 2081 under 500 megatons of nuclear explosives. It will never return. Who cares if Nova Scotia fell before Dontegii? It fell either way."

One of the patrons spoke up. "Hey, Wolf-san. Tell us the one about the nexus again!"

A maddening light filled Stockwell's gaze. "Your money is worthless!" He shouted.

The patrons laughed in response.

Stockwell began stalking around with his eyes. "But you know that already right? All your assets stored in the international nexus are nothing more than compounded hexadecimal. Jim the accountant can just type one line of code and it's all gone! And he can bring it back just as easily! Jim is your neon god!"

A few of their patrons raised their glasses in cheers. "All hail Jim!" They joked.

Baldo shook his head. "Okay. I'm stopping him."

Baldo approached him. "Wesley-san. I think you've had enough—"

Stockwell's gaze snapped over to Baldo. "Surely you can understand, right Baldo? I'm not a bad person right?"

His voice was pleading. "I was only doing what was necessary. My hand was forced. Getting money was the only solution. There was nothing else I could do! I would blow the world up if I could! I would wipe it all away and start fresh if I could! Capital wont spare Mars or Venus in the future too! There was no other way! I had to become one don't you see! I'm not a bad person!"

His gaze then flashed over to the bartender. "I would've joined the revolution in another life, I swear! I promise I'm on your side. There is no god, only the bourgeoisie waiting to be sodomized."

Stockwell began to sob.

"Okay, Wesley-san. Let's get you home." Baldo gently got him down from the stool and began to escort him out of the bar.

Stockwell continued to rant through tears. His thoughts were becoming incoherent. "Darwin was right. Naturally selected, self-domestication. Only the boot lickers survive. The perfect survival strategy."

Rettenmair and Arenio quickly joined in the effort of balancing Stockwell and managed to get him out of the bar.

Arenio gave the others an innocent smile. "Hey, say what you will. He clearly needed to get some things off his chest. This is healthy for him."

Stockwell immediately bent over and vomited on the ground.

"Right. Healthy." Baldo said.

Stockwells words began to trail off, but he still managed to speak his mind. "Nobody wants to live anymore. Nobody wants to have children. But that's fine… Because someone else had another brilliant fucking idea… Our wage slaves aren't reproducing so lets just grow them in fucking vats… Get a whole bunch of eggs and sperm and mix them in some natal auger and voila… Workers ready to lick your boots… A brilliant strategy… "

Stockwell stuck a tired fist of in the air. "There is no problem modern technology can't solve! Long may we reign!"

After his exclamation, Stockwell appeared to begin to power down. His breathing slowed and his eyelids began to drag dowards.

"Good." Baldo muttered. "He's coming down. Do you know where he lives, Reneetenmair?"

"No, I don't, sadly. I can get his address from my secretary. It should be in the paper work. We should put him up in an inn for tonight."

"Let's summon a carriage then."

As they were discussing what to do, a courier hurriedly rounded the corner.

"—I have a summons for one Baldo Lauffray-sama!"

Baldo turned to the courier. "What is it boy?"

The courier's face was flushed red with exhaustion and his words are islands in a sea of breaths. "Your….*huff*... presence is required in…*puff*... the royal palace..."

Renttenmaier and Baldo exchanged a pair of confused glances. "Thank you for coming so quickly boy, go and get some rest."

The curious began to slump back around the corner when a second courier came charging around from the same direction.

"—I have summons for Mayor Rettenmaier "

Baldo and Renttenmaier shared another exchange of glances "...what the hell? What's going on—"

A third courier came charging around the corner, tripping over the second.

"I have summons for one, Wesley Aamon-sama."

On their third and final exchange of glances, things seemed to click within with their minds. Why else would a provisions merchant, a steel trader, and the mayor of a fortress city located on the border of Baharuth be summoned to the capital all at once.

"It seems we have work to do, Lauffray."

"Indeed."

…

Vera was walking down the streets of E-Rantel, her arms weighed down by bags full of odd materials, when she heard a faint hissing coming from beneath her cloak.

She quickly made her way towards an alleyway, a place more or less out of the public eye. She put down her bags and fumbled around inside her cloak for the source of the hissing.

"Ah, got it." She discreetly removed a small box with a long antennae from within. She put it to her ear and pressed a switch, causing the hissing to fall silent.

"This is Vera. Over."

She pressed the switch again, allowing the hissing to return once more. Only this time, there was a muddled voice attached to it. "It's Wesley, sorry for not coming home last night. I was busy. Something has come up. Over.

"What is it? Over."

"The Baharuth empire has declared war on the Re-Estize kingdom, my presence is needed in the capital. Over."

Vera nodded to herself before accessing the device once more. "You sound worried. Wasn't this entirely expected? You said this war was going to be good for the business. Over."

"Oh, I sound worried? Sorry about that. I want you to go to E-Pespel and examine the current rate of production of the foundry, the one where outsiders aren't allowed. You know the one I'm talking about. Over."

"Got it. Over."

"You also procured the items, yes? The ones made with magic? Over."

"Yes. Over."

"Good, then instruct Niven to return Moot and begin investigating them. He already knows what to test for. After you're done in E-Pespel meet me back in E-Rantel, bring Gas masks, several of them just in case. Over."

"Roger. Over."

Vera silenced the device and concealed it beneath her cloak.

"Now then… Which way was the foundry that Niven was at?"

She picked up her bags and continued down the street. She thought over the brief conversation she just had with Stockwell.

Everything seemed to be going to plan, but she couldn't shake the deep sense of foreboding doom she sensed in his voice.