Hello and welcome back to the story! Sorry for the longer-than-I'd-like-between-updates wait. The next chapter should, hopefully, be a bit quicker in coming. That is if everything with my move back to the US works out as planned. Anyway, a little bit about what the future plan is. You may have noticed our two main MAIN characters have truly become separated, so much so that I am also splitting the story into two arcs until they once again rejoin one another to lead to the conclusion.
The first is Lana's visit to Zeal, titled "Trouble in Paradise" and there will be 3 or 4 parts to that in total. I hope to answer some questions that alot of people have about Zeal. It's a good chance for me to spin my own theory about how things got to the state they did. Why was the Queen mad for power? What happened to the King? Why was the Sun Stone sealed?
After that we'll cover Janus, his side titled "Old Habits Die Hard." I'm not going to say anything about this but suffice to say that I think it will surprise quite a few of you.
A few of you may fume at the split, hopefully not too many of you :), but I think it will work well. These may be a bit longer than the normal chapters I have, think of them kind of a mini-series within a series. Let me know how you like it, or even dislike it, in a opinion (lol, didn't I say I wasn't going to ask for any more of those) Anyway, enjoy the trip!
"Trouble in Paradise"
Part 1: Welcome to Zeal
---//
"Sire, the report you requested has arrived," stated the King's personal servant, a young mageling with short blonde hair and wearing the dark green robe issued to the castle staff. The King turned his head from the veranda view that overlooked his kingdom and smiled slightly, "Well send him in then."
The youth bowed and then left in a hurry, after all the entrance to the king's room was two floors down and through several doors. Minutes later the heavy footfalls of Belthasar could be heard climbing up the last set of stairs that lead to the porch. The king could already hear his heavy breathing from the physical strain, too much time in the laboratory, and his smirk grew even larger.
"My liege," reported the middle-aged Guru as he at last reached the porch the king was standing on. His brown hair was well kempt and his goatee pointed out from his chin like a jagged rock. In his hands was clutched a small blue stone that ebbed a sapphire light. Belthasar brought up his hand, the one holding the gem, and presented it to the king, "Here are the latest readings sire."
King Zeal looked at the stone with mixed feelings, it was going to tell him something he already knew but none-the-less still needed to confirm. Even if the stone denied what his instincts were telling him, he knew it was only delaying the inevitable. Taking up the blue stone with a gloved hand, the king closed his eyes and took a moment to extract the data from the magical link. When he opened them again, he knew he'd been right.
"It may just be a fluctuation sire," explained Belthasar stiffly.
"No my friend," sighed the king tiredly, "I can feel it upon the air and deep down in my bones. Prepare for the ceremony then, it shall take place within the week."
"But sire!" exclaimed the guru with emotion showing in his voice, "What about the Mammom Machine? I'm sure we can finish it before then. Already this week we found another stone with great potential!"
"The Sun Stone must be recharged, whatever the cost," explained the king with steel in his voice, "I will not let my kingdom fall to the ground with those earthbounds, I will not let all that our people have built over the millennia crumble to dust because of a false hope. Inform the others, no one is to speak of this publicly of course." With a weary smile he looked out the window, as if confirming the magical kingdom was still in existence, before addressing the guru again, "We were the ones that brought our people to the skies and we must be the ones that pay the price."
"Very well my liege," bowed Belthasar, with many a thing left unsaid, before stiffly turning and marching off in a huff. The king simply sighed and returned to his view of the kingdom of Zeal. Another perfect day in the perfect kingdom, remarked the king inwardly as the bright sun shone upon the colorful floating continent, and I will ensure it is preserved.
---
Lana stumbled from the time portal not exactly sure who would be here to great her, if anyone, or if perhaps she'd been led into a situation that might result in her imminent death. Lucky for her about the worst that could happen at this moment in Zeal was for the wind to pick up. Before she could regain her wits from the sudden scenery shift, a pocket-watch was shoved into her face. Only later would she realize it was a pocket watch though, at the moment it was only a strange contraption with too many dials, buttons, and numbers. With the watch came a rough, sand-paper quality, voice.
"You're late," grumbled the voice somewhere behind the watch that was still in held in her face. Instead of removing the provoking time piece, the rough voice continued to hold it there as if it expected the mage-hunter to make sense of the confusing measurements on the many faces. Around the largest face, that took up the entirety of the disk, were numbers that lined the edges, one started at the top and it ended at forty eight, with smaller circles, lined by other numbers, enclosed inside of the larger one. Each had one hand, sometimes two, that seemed to move without rhyme or reason in relation to each other, as if each was keeping track of something totally unrelated to the other.
Before the swordswoman could protest, comment, or even express confusion the pocket watch was removed and stored back under the heavy white long sleeve shirt the old man wore. Over that he wore a pair of startlingly bright blue overalls that somehow managed to look kingly, with patterns woven throughout and gems embedded in through the bands that lopped up over his shoulders. Over both, perhaps to protect it from whatever work he was employed, was a heavy brown smock, much like blacksmiths used to wear Lana noted, that was covered with all varieties of colored stains. Topping it all off was a large, white, bushy mustache that covered his mouth and remained the only hair on his otherwise bald head. Above the white bush poked out two stark, black, eyes that measured up everything, and everyone, that it looked at.
Behind the strangely dressed man Lana noticed the marble castle of Zeal atop its' lonely mountain, looking down on the kingdom like a giant protector. The air was clear and crisp, rogue high-flying clouds skirted the atmosphere, and she could see the sun sparkle off of the Azura lake in the distance. Some buildings floated in the air above Zeal, tethered with simple chains or magic restraints, and even though she couldn't cast a spell she could taste the magic in the air.
"You're late," repeated the old man again, dragging the mage-hunter's attention back to him, and then paused, "and you're also a mess." The following disapproving grunt reminded her briefly of Janus, "At least you've got a sword." Again he surprised the mage-hunter and she barely had time to react before he walked closer and grabbed her sword, sheath and all, right out of her hands. Turning around and pulling the weapon out, he walked away while studying the length of the blade as a physician might study a patient.
"Who…what…where...why?", stuttered Lana before regaining some bearing, "Wait a minute, what are you doing with my sword?!" At last making a grab for the old man's arm as he walked away, the codger simply stepped to the side but otherwise continued to ignore her. The mage-hunter overshot her lunge and almost fell face forward if not for Glenn providing a counter balance at the last second as he leaned sharply back in her grasp. The failed attempt didn't shatter her resolve and she started after the old man again but stopped after Glenn offered a nugget of sound advice.
"Tiss no need for further chase," stated the frog-knight softly, "There are times for battle, and other times to put away your steel. His manner doth not preempt any harm to thee." The frog-knight was right of course, but the events of the past few days had put her on an edge that leaned toward paranoia. Enemies could lurk anywhere, or so it felt. Luckily she had the frog-knight's counsel, his experience in knowing when, and when not to, fight. Taking a calming breath she took a look at the odd man's aura to confirm her amphibious companion's advice, just in case.
The old man's aura was patterned and orderly, resembling a chess board, with squares constantly moving and shifting like those puzzle games she'd seen in the holo-rooms. It was circled in a brilliant icy blue ring, informing Lana that his foremost element was Ice, and if she went by the intensity of the light given off from the ring then he was powerful enough to give Spekkio a good fight. She didn't feel any anger or hate emanating from his oddly ordered aura. It didn't mean he wasn't an enemy, but it did mean that he at least did wish them harm. Satisfied Lana snapped back from her ethereal view just as the old man grumbled something and turned back around.
"Seen better," he grunted before walking back to the swordswoman. Without warning, or permission, the old man grabbed a hold of her right shoulder and Lana felt the cool touch of magic cover her from head to toe. Thinking that perhaps he meant to heal her, or at least use a spell to clean her up, she resisted the first impulse to push away. Instead he kept his grip and the energy that was covering her continued to build. Soon it felt as if a thousand tiny pins were lightly pricking her, then the pricks turned into stabs as the pain continued to build.
"Let go!" the mage-hunter exclaimed as she tried to pull away, judging from Glenn's groaning he was also feeling the same steady pain she was. It wasn't enough to disable her, yet. The grip of the old man was rock solid though, her attempts at escape didn't even cause his hand to shift. Yet the pain continued to increase and Lana grimaced to keep her actions in check, she could feel Glenn's grip tighten and noticed that she'd gripped him harder as well.
At last the old man looked up into Lana's eyes and spoke, his voice still rocky and rough like sandpaper, "The teleport might tingle a bit," the energy pulsed once, the pain vanished, and they were gone.
----//
Just as quickly as they'd vanished the trio reappeared, the open plains of Zeal replaced with the comforts and essentials of a home. It appeared to be constructed out of hardwood instead of the white marble that Lana had come to associate with all Zeal architecture. A domed ceiling loomed high above and the top was clear glass instead of wood, letting in an abundance of sunlight during the day and at night probably gave a beautiful view of the stars. Book shelves lined the walls, though papers poked out every which way from every tome. He was either a scholarly type or perhaps just liked to read.
Before she could take in more a door to the left, there was another directly across the room from it Lana noted, opened and admitted what must have been his house keeper, or perhaps wife. Like most enlightened ones her features were flawless, any blemishes taken care of with magic during childhood, but her blue eyes seemed friendly and without the haughtiness found in most of the Zeal populace. The blue hair that topped her head was slightly darker than her sky blue eyes and was pulled back into a bun, then stylized to resemble a burning fan of flames that poked out from behind her head like peacock feathers. She wore a simple white dress that hugged her upper-body and flowed out at the waist till in reach her ankles, with small patterns of floral arrangements embossed in seemingly random places. Her feet were bare except for the slim gold ankle bracelets, each set with a single small emerald, which tinged against one another whenever she walked. Compared to the old man's rough manner, she was probably the exact opposite.
"Verse, this one needs a bath," stated the mage as he quickly grabbed Glenn off of Lana's back before giving her a hearty shove towards the open door. The mage-hunter stumbled awkwardly then promptly turned around, no one was going to simply take the frog-knight from her, and gave the old man a scowl Janus would have been proud of.
"He'll be fine," gruffly sighed the man in an oh-come-on kind of expression, "Now go." Lana looked to Glenn, hung like a cat by the nape of his neck, and the frog-knight returned her gaze and gave a nod in the direction of Verse. That was apparently all the prompting the old man needed and a quick flip of his hand, and a simple spell, briskly turned the mage-hunter around and sent her skidding through the opened doors. When Lana turned around once more, Glenn and the strange old man were gone.
"Come now child, let's clean you up", smiled Verse as she gracefully walked into the room and shut the door.
------//
"This is the life," sighed the weary mage-hunter twenty minutes later as she enjoyed, in her humble opinion, the best bath of her entire life. Despite all her attempts to avoid being cajoled by the kind and pleasant Verse, the woman had simply not take no for an answer. Lana almost felt sorry for the Zealian, she'd put up a good amount of fuss and fight before she'd been willing to even consider taking her offered assistance. After all she'd come to Zeal to find out what was controlling her, not to take a bath. The bath though, made her rethink that previous statement; being covered in blood and sweat wasn't exactly something she liked to prolong. After Lana finally, reluctantly, agreed to be cleaned, and after a few buckets of water had been dumped over her head to wash away most of the blood, Verse left the room to leave the mage-hunter to herself.
Sunlight filtered in through the glass roof of the dome, though smaller than the main hall they'd come from, and the light made the water-covered granite basin sparkle. The air was warm enough that she'd been able to comfortably walk unclothed and the wooden floor also appeared to hold enchantments as it was comfortable to her bare feet. In the middle of the pool/bath was a small island of stone with a lone palm tree to provide shade from the suns rays. The scene was so relaxing and peaceful that the mage-hunter couldn't help but lay back and close of eyes. So relaxing that Verse had managed to reenter the room and join Lana in the bath with the swordswoman noticing until the kindly Zealian spoke up.
"Thankfully you've taken my offer, the whole blood and sweet look just didn't fit you," stated Verse with just a hint of tease in her voice, "Or smell very good for that matter." Even though she'd been caught unaware Lana forced herself to continue lounging in the water. The mage-hunter was going to force her nerves to calm down and trust the Zealian woman; anyone trying to kill her probably wouldn't be giving her a bath.
"I'm sorry," said the mage-hunter after a few moments of enjoying the thorough soaking. Regretfully bringing her partially-submerged head out of the water and facing Verse, "I'm glad you dragged me in, even if I was kicking and screaming."
"You're welcome," smiled Verse, her perfect white teeth shining like the water that sparkled around them, "Simply here to help. Speaking of that, would you like some help with your back? I noticed the wounds when you were stripping, some simple magic and it should be good as new." Lana was tempted to quickly switch over and spy on her aura but stopped short.
"Yes… please," nervously responded Lana with a bit of hesitance in her voice. Being her first time in a public bath, and unaware of any kind of customs or etiquette of such a place, she nervously presented her injured flank. Closing her eyes and letting the feeling of the warm water, mixed with the fresh smelling herbs, encompass her, Lana relaxed fully and let her worries slip away into the water. Moments later she felt something akin to what must have been a sponge on her back as Verse started cleaning off the blood that was around the scab. Opening her eyes and expecting the bath to have a reddish tinge, she was amazed the water was still as clear as before. Perhaps there was more magic in the pool than just warm water.
"This may sound strange, but where am I," confessed Lana as Verse delicately scrubbed the back wounds.
"Currently you are in my bath house," jokingly stated the older woman before seriously answering, "Our house is a few miles south of Kajar, not too far off the beaten path." Oddly enough the question didn't seem to startle the gentle woman. Seconds later Lana felt something warm, with a ting of magic, touch her back, "Though you wouldn't know it based on how many visitors we get. Not that we don't mind the lack of company." Had there been a small hint of mischief in her last statement?
"What brings you here anyways? Arth doesn't normally talk to many people much less bring them home with him," asked Verse and Lana felt the warm magic replaced by a heavy scrubbing with the sponge.
"Is Arth the old man with the bushy mustache?" asked Lana.
"Good grief you don't even know his name?" exclaimed Verse in disbelief as she stopped scrubbing and Lana felt the warm magic flow over her back once again, "What trouble brought you to him then?"
"I don't think you'll believe me," sighed Lana, "But I stepped out of a portal-like thingy and he was standing there and said I was late." Thankfully this was Zeal and explanations that involved magic went much smoother here; in Zeal anything was possible.
"No I believe it," stated Verse seriously, "It sounds like something that'd happen to him, he has a way of knowing when things are going to happen before they do."
"So what was I late to, and why was he waiting for me?" asked Lana as the warm magic Verse was using faded and the older woman turned the mage-hunter around to look at her. In an almost motherly way, the older woman quickly ran her fingers through the short locks of purple hair on Lana's head before answering.
"Who knows", shrugged Verse, "You'll have to ask him yourself later. Until then you're in my care." Lana smiled at the statement if that meant she could spend the rest of the day in here then it was definitely a good thing. Before she could close her eyes and lean back on the warm rocks, maybe eventually passing into a pleasant nap, the Zealian turned her around again like she was an animal on exhibit.
"I might have fixed your back but I'm not done yet," scolded Verse as she steadied the spinning swordswoman and gave her a motherly look of concern, "Dear, when was the last time you pampered yourself?" The blank stare Lana returned made the older woman sighed dramatically.
"First thing's first, we simply must grow out that hair of yours," stated Verse in all seriousness, "I mean, what's the point of having purple hair if you don't show it off a bit." Lana bit down a sigh, and a question about exactly how that was possible, and simply settled in for a good while of being "pampered". Remembering an old holo-vid, she briefly wondered whether there was going to be mud, or cucumbers, involved.
Regardless of the method, the mage-hunter knew there were probably other things she needed be doing. She hadn't forgotten the deaths she'd caused, the mystics she'd been forced to butcher. Her first and foremost goal was finding the answers she needed. It was hard not to simply take off, ignoring the invitation from Verse, and head straight to the palace library. There's a time to fight and a time to lay down your weapons, good advice from the knight Lana mused.
Hopefully aforementioned knight was getting some well deserved relaxation, and healing, as well.
---//
Arth was a man of many talents; an Ice master, Chronologist, weapon-smith, enchanter, and up-to-date on his Zealian literature. He was not, however, a very outgoing, or talkative, host. Most of the time in fact he was either lost in the vast formula of the universe, calculating the future based on his observations of the present, or making astute guesses when all else failed. That left whoever else was in the room to fend for themselves. It wasn't that he was intentionally being rude, it's just that he had better things to do.
That being said, Glenn wasn't exactly having his needs tended to with the efficiency and care of a nurse. It didn't mean he'd been neglected however. Currently suspended in a stunningly bright column of blue light, the frog-knight felt quite comfortable. In fact, once Arth had placed Glenn in the golden basin that was currently below him on the ground, he'd felt a comfortable warmth envelope him when the blue light flickered to life and he'd became weightless. At the time the bald-man grumbled loudly, "Don't move, it'll heal you." After the knight had regained the use of his previously broken arm, the grateful time-traveler didn't doubt it.
From his levitating purchase Glenn was able to view most of the room without the need to twist around. The healing-column, the name he'd attached to the miraculous device, was in the upper corner of the room. Near the door they'd entered, directly across the room from the healing-column, was a small book shelf currently stacked full of thick tomes with more stacked on the floor next to it. At the far wall, to the left of the door, if entering, and facing Glenn, was a large board with a mess of numbers, letters, symbols, and…other oddities written all across it in a seemingly unorganized mess. The only other object in the room was a simple chair that sat in the middle of the room facing the board. Above it all stood another domed roof with yet more glass panes that allowed plenty of sunlight inside.
The mage was currently walking back and forth in front of his large board. Muttering softly, or perhaps to someone with more acute ears, the bald-man would occasionally stop, mark something on the board, take a minute staring at what he'd just written, and then continue his pacing again. This had been going on since Glenn had been placed in the healing-column and he sensed that it probably wasn't going to end any time soon. The end results, he had a lot of time to think.
His thoughts mostly turned to Lana though. Who was she really? How had she created the magical gateway to bring them here? Why did his thoughts turn to her so often in the past day? Was she in a similar healing-column? Was she thinking about him? Too many questions and the frog-knight had none of the answers.
Despite knowing almost nothing of the above, she had still saved his life on more than one occasion. She did it without cowering or commenting on his frog form, it didn't even seem to matter to the swordswoman. The frog transformation had left Glenn with a shattered personnel image, though he had never really had a strong one to begin with; he didn't blame other people who looked at him in disgust, nor did he hate those who spoke ill of him when they thought he wasn't listening. He deserved it for his failure, but that didn't mean he liked it, and the comments and glances had only spurred his eventual move to the cursed woods. With her though it seemed she never even noticed, there were no scared glances or hidden grimaces when he wasn't looking.
A small ding sounded moments later that snapped the frog-knights thoughts back to the present as the light of the healing-column faded. As the blue light dissipated the cursed warrior slowly descended to touch the ground with his own feet again. Expecting at least some small amount of pain to be associated with his landing, the frog-knight was surprised when his feet solidly hit the ground without weakness. Flexing his arms a few times and performing a few basic stretches revealed his health was back to perfect. He even felt cleaner, as if any dirt or blood that had been on him had simply disintegrated into nothingness. His ragged shirt was still full of holes and his breeches were still torn and battered; they were, however, now spotless.
"Just as calculated," smugly noted the old man as he pulled out the pocket-watch like device to check the various hands. Satisfied, he tucked it back into his white work shirt and turned towards Glenn, "Feel better?"
"If mine eyes and body had not been witness, I'd believe mine fast recovery to be false," stated the frog-knight in amazement, "I doth appear whole and hearty. You have my gratitude sir." Thought not a knight in his own eyes, a code of chivalry had still been drilled into him while under Cryus' tutelage and his automatic response was a formal bow. Arth simply grunted, in annoyance or acknowledgement, and motioned for the frog-knight to follow him as he jerked his head in the direction of the door, "Let's go."
"I doth wonder what the large board in the room for?" asked Glenn as the two exited the smaller room and entered in a hallway. Three doors sat on each side, each an intricately carved pattern of various shapes that made a memorizing eye-catching pattern. The knight and mage passed the first set of doors before the old man answered.
"Calculating of course," he responded as if it should be as plain as day, "Gotta keep track of the variables, the important ones anyway. I'm close to a formula that will predict when the Ice will melt on the surface." The frog-knight nodded on as if he perfectly well knew what the old man was talking about; in truth he had little understanding of his explanation. If this was the Zeal that Lana had been talking about, then it supposedly floated above the earth. Did that mean the earth was covered in ice?
"People won't care of course," rumbled the mage as he opened the last door on the right, "Too worried about palace politics."
Inside the room was all manner of weapons, armor, and shields. Some Glenn could recognize, the tall-tale long sword or claymore, others were of distinctly odder designs. Without pause Arth walked into the middle of the room, grabbed a plain looking broad sword, and slung it over his back like a practiced veteran. Taking a moment to scan the room, his eyes found their target and he walked over to the various armors currently worn by a company of mannequins. Stripping one of its' heavy looking breastplate he lifted it easily with his remaining hand and carried both armor and weapon to the frog-knight that waited at the door.
"Here", stated the mage, dropping the sword and armor on Glenn. The frog-knight frantically held his arms out to catch the failing equipment and managed the feat without injury, "Put it on."
"Come again?" asked the amphibious swordsman, wondering why this odd man was giving him weapons and armor. The old man sighed and grabbed the equipment from Glenn, holding a piece in each hand before speaking.
"Simple math," begin the old man, "This is variable X," he continued and held up the sword, "This is Y," this time he held up the armor, "And you are Z," he ended and dropped the equipment on Glenn again, who this time let it land on the ground. "You are part of a formula, just like everything else in the universe, I'm only adding in variables of my choosing."
"Whilst my skill with numbers is far less sharp than my blade, I fail to see what yon sword and armor do with arithmetic," stated Glenn with a blank look on his face.
"Innumerate," scoffed the mage with a small amount of disgust before rubbing his chin in thought, "There's one thing missing." Almost after uttering the statement the old man snapped his fingers and reached into a small sack he had tied at his waist. From it he drew out a long, dark blue, robe that seem to steal the light from around it and a pair of heavy boots. Dropping them onto the pile of things already on the floor, he reached in once more and brought out a plain white shirt with brown pants. Despite the fact that the clothes were far large than the bag, the bag still appeared plump and full as if something else has hidden inside. Adding the clothes to the growing pile on the floor he turned to face Glenn and said, "Get dressed, dinner's almost ready."
---------//
Actually, dinner was ready before the confused knight had equipped his clothing and cloak. As he came into the dining room Lana was already poking her food item with a fork, though that's all she seemed to be doing. Seeing Glenn enter the room brightened her mood immediately and she waved him over to sit in the empty seat to her left. The two other chairs across the ornate table were occupied by the Zealian woman he'd seen early, Verse if he remembered, and the old man who still hadn't shared his name. Walking to the seat Lana had indicated, and noticing it sat slightly higher than the others, he jumped up to join his fellow time-traveler.
"Don't eat the lump'da", whispered Lana almost immediately, leaning in close next to his ear as if she was sharing some great secret. Indicating the offending item with a poke of her fork, the lump'da decided to move elsewhere on the plate to escape another fork-poke. The food they were eating was still alive! Stifling a comment of disgust he simply ignored it, or tried to.
Turning to come face to face with his twice-savoir, he noticed that she was not only clean of the vast amounts of blood she'd been wearing around but she was also wearing a dark blue robe similar to his own. Not only that he noted, as he had to do a double-take to be sure his eyes weren't playing tricks, her purple hair was now long enough to be pinned up in a pony tail and still reach the nape of her neck. Overall, he decided before turning to look at his food plate, she just seemed fresher, like how a day seemed after a nice spring rain.
"Well it seems everyone is here," said Verse before the frog-knight could even contemplate eating the odd food items, "Now's a good time for introductions. I'm Verse, the owner of the bath house here, and this is my rather extroverted associate Arth."
Arth, however, was lost in thought with a book in one hand and a quill in the other while he mumbled something too soft for any of them to hear. Giving the mage a good slap upside the head, Arth almost dropped his book in his Gemish soup and gave Verse a magus-esque glare, "What now woman?!"
"Stop trying to solve the universe and join the conversation, we've guests after all", severely said Verse while managing to convey a threat across even her sweet voice.
"Fine, fine," mumbled the mage and he sharply closed his book and put it roughly down next to the plate before staring at the two time-travelers, "Well, you got any questions?"
"Arth…" groaned the beautiful Zealin, "Why don't we finish the introductions first." The Chronologist slowly turned his gaze to Verse and mumbled something else that Lana was glad she couldn't hear. Quickly stepping in before Verse had another reason to slap the old man, "I'm Lana and this is my friend Glenn, we sort of came here through …a …time portal."
"Well, it wouldn't be the first time Zeal would have seen a time traveler," spoke up Verse after she stopped glaring at the old man and put on her smile again, "We have a few frequent time-travelers as well. Perhaps you've heard of Norstein Bekkler? Odd little fellow that frequents parties throughout time?"
"Old fool if you ask me," grunted Arth as he quickly picked up his Lump'da and tore off its' head with one quick bite. Glenn and Lana both grimaced and looked down at their still-crawling food, the Lump'da started back with two beady eyes. "Don't mind his manners," sighed Verse, "He certainly doesn't seem to." The bathhouse owner stopped her Lump'da with a fork and neatly cut it into several sections, both time travelers tried not to notice the small legs still twitching as she politely ate.
"So, any questions?" asked Arth while he reached into a bowl of the crawling green creatures and pulled out another to tear into.
"Why were you waiting for me?" asked Lana, "And how did you know I'd be there."
"Simple math and observation," replied Arth, "You think a time portal doesn't have any effects on the environment?"
"I really didn't think about it like that…" stammered Lana, wondering slightly if the old man was going to tell her time-portals polluted the air.
"Course you didn't," snapped Arth, "The universe is a giant formula, everything is a variable; you, me, the floor, the Lump'da, and especially time portals. Before it appears certain variables exhibit certain behaviors, the air-flow it displaces can point you right to it."
"I still doth wonder what people and places have to do with arithmetic," said Glenn, "Tiss it not the study of numbers and mathematics?"
"Innumerate," mumbled the old man yet again. Instead of explaining it further he simply reopened his book and took his quill back in hand, which earned him another smack from Verse.
"Look at it this way," she said kindly, "If you think of each piece of clothing on you as an individual variable, then the entire outfit would be the end result or the solution. That's the easiest way for me to understand it anyway."
"I think I get it", answered Lana as she tried to grip the idea that everything in the universe was adding up to a solution, "But why were you waiting for us?"
"I…was bored," responded Arth hesitantly, "I saw that there was a time portal destined to open soon and decided to add more variables of my own design to the equation of the universe."
"So, enough about the math," chirped Verse happily as Arth gave the woman another glare, "What brings you to the magical center of the universe?"
"Just visiting to use the palace library," stated Lana, "I've had some strange things happen to me recently and I'd heard this was the best place to get information on magic."
"You've come to the right floating continent," happily stated the woman, "Do you need any help getting there, I'm sure Arth wouldn't mind teleporting you there."
"Like hell I wouldn't woman," snapped Arth again, "There are forces out there more powerful than your compression can imagine and they need to be tracked, studied, and applied to the great formula. Yet you want me to just go about teleporting strangers around!"
"One little teleport won't tax your ever so important calculation," responded Verse in mock, "Weren't you bored only a short time ago?"
"A free teleport here, another helpful errand there," argued Arth back, "With all my time away from the great formula I lose more and more variables. One of these days something is going to come out of nowhere and destroy us and then the Queen will wonder why I didn't see it coming! I suppose I'll simply tell her it was because I was too busy giving random strangers free teleports."
"It's okay really," quickly jumped in Lana before Verse had a chance to respond, "We could use the walk anyway."
"If you say so," sighed Verse, "Feel free to eat as much as you like before departing, and come back anytime. The services will be on the house."
"What are these strange creatures?" asked Glenn as he bravely picked up his Lump'da and held it in the air.
"Oh, those are just the filler," replied Verse before snapping her fingers, "The main course is fried beast, red of course for this time of season, with Eckmei sauce and a side of fried Lump'da."
---//
"Your turn," stated Arth after dinner was done and he had once again closed his book and placed it on the table. To Lana's delight the fried beast had tasted wonderful and she'd had no problem digging in after the first bite. Even Glenn seemed to agree with her and relished his meal as much, if not more, than the mage-hunter. Both of them had eaten until their stomachs could fill no more and Verse entertained them with idle chatter, giving the best places to be this time of year in Zeal and the local happenings of the continent.
"My turn for what?" asked Lana as she followed the old mage out of the dining room and into the weapon storage area that he'd taken Glenn earlier. She noticed her katana lying amongst the room of weapons and immediately started towards it, intent on reclaiming her lost sword. However she was stopped short by the solid grip of the mage as he dragged her back, "Don't insult me by wanting that inferior blade."
"Inferior?!" said Lana in surprise, "The blade is the sharpest in the world, forged from a mixture of steel and titanium with laser precision and more than thousand foldings."
"Blah, blah, blah," continued Arth, "There's much more to a blade than how sharp it is or what it is made out of. I was going to choose a weapon for you but since you think your sword is of the best caliber I present to you a challenge; walk through here once, take any blade you desire or, if you want to insult my hospitality, take your sword back." He let go of the mage-hunter and pulled out a notebook and started jotting, as if her choice of sword was something noteworthy. Deciding to take the old man up on his offer, Lana walked through the various rows of weapons and armor though she kept mostly to the sharp instruments section.
"Lana…" rasped a soft voice in her mind as she passed a rack of bastard swords. Thinking it was just her imagination playing tricks on her she continued walking.
"Lana…" rasped the soft voice again with slightly more force and she stopped dead in her tracks, scanning the room for the source of the voice. Nothing seemed odd; all the swords were hung orderly in their respective racks and were clearly separated by form and function. Looking down at the rack of bastard swords she'd stopped by, Lana noticed that one of the bastard swords wasn't a bastard sword at all but rather a katana. Thinking it odd that the rest of the room would be so sorted and orderly yet there'd be one unsorted item right in front of her, the mage-hunter took it off the rack and examined the blade.
The handle was a dark green, almost jade in appearance, with the carving of a dragon circling the entire length of it. The picture extended down the blades as an intricate embossed image in the surface of the steel. At the tip of the blade the dragon end in a mouth full of teeth and a deadly promise to those that might face the sword. It also had a cool feeling to it, sending an almost supernatural prickling down her spine when she picked it up, and it made the blade seem all the more eerily dangerous.
"Einlanzer…" solidly stated the soft voice, the rasp gone, sending further shivers down Lana's back. Had the blade just talked to her? Gripping it in her normal two-hand hold, she judged the balance and weight of the blade to discover it seemed perfect. Not close to perfect as her previously sword had been but actually and truthfully perfect, it felt natural to wield the weapon. The sword was an extension of her body. Almost immediately Arth was next to her, looking down over her shoulders as she examined the sword, "Very interesting."
"Eek!" exclaimed the startled mage-hunter, almost dropping the blade, "Don't sneak up on me like that." Taking the blade and finding an appropriate sheath sitting just next to the stand, she tucked her new found weapon in the thick cord that wrapped around the robe. Testing the strength of the flimsy looking cord proved that it should hold the sword's place in everyday activity.
"What's so interesting?" asked Lana as she continued to test the cord.
"It seems the Einlanzer found you," stated Arth as he closed his notepad up and tucked in one of the various pockets on his overalls, "Just as the great formula said."
"Can the sword talk or something? When I picked it up I heard someone say Einlanzer," asked the mage-hunter, looking down at her newfound weapon in slight confusion, "It isn't a dream-sword is it? Like Melchoir's?"
"Bah, Melchoir's an old fool too," spat the old-mage as he turned to guide Lana out of the weapon's cache but continued to grumble, "Only reason he's a guru and I'm not are those dreams of his anyway."
"All this 'dreams' and 'hope' hoopla," stated Arth as he shut, and locked with a few gestures, the weapon's cache door, while continuing to blabber, "It's a good way to disappoint oneself. No, that blade is made of logic. Nothing quite beats the cold edge of reason sometimes, cuts to the truth of things."
"Okay…" agreed Lana, not quite sure what exactly it meant to build a blade from logic, "But does it talk?"
"No idea," grunted the old-man as they re-entered the dining area, "Never used it. Logic would dictate however that if you heard it talk, then it can and does."
"Great, a talking sword," sighed Lana almost regretting her choice of blade. If it didn't feel so right to use then she would have taken it back. It was rare to find a sword of such caliber though, after all it seemed she had to go back sixty-five thousand millennia to get it, and it wasn't hard to see why it might be handy to hang on to. Besides, a sword that could cut to the truth of things might be helpful when looking for answers.
"And now, it's time for you to go," stated Arth as he grabbed Glenn on his way by the amphibian, who was just finishing off some desert. Making one last grab for his pasty-type snack, the frog-knight sighed in defeat and let Arth carry him by the nape of his neck to the threshold of the domed-complex.
"You always did have a way with guests," commented Verse as she rose as well and followed the trio, "If you ever need a place to rest while you're staying in Zeal, feel free to come back."
"Maybe once I've found the answers I'm looking for I'll take you up on that," stated the mage-hunter as they all assembled at the large door-frame that was open to the brisk Zeal day. The cool, late day air against her face made Lana glad they'd been given robes, and also made the Zeal fashion seem suddenly prudent.
"I can hardly contain myself," grumbled the old-mage, "Now get going. You've got places to be and times to be there."
"Might we perchance cross paths again?" asked Glenn as he brushed himself off after being informally plopped on the ground, "It doth appear you can divine future events, prior warning of such meetings wouldst be greatly appreciated."
"If the great formula calculates as much, then it will happen," solemnly spoke Arth with real reverence in his voice, "But variables change all the time, short term variables like humans are hard to track."
"It'll happen if it happens," interpreted Verse with a laugh and looked pointedly at Lana, "Maybe next time you can let me put a dress on you, that blue robe just hides all of your assets" The mage-hunter turned a slight shade of pink but swiftly turned around and hid the fact by drawing up the hood on the robe.
"I'll…pass on that… thanks," stated the mage-hunter, "Thanks for the clothes and the sword." Glenn hadn't missed the sudden retreat and after the two walked a reasonable distance away from the old-man and kind woman, he chanced a question.
"Thoust can tackle snake-beasts, defeat a mystic platoon, and hold your life for bargain to an invisible force but harbor a private fear of dresses?" jokingly asked the frog-knight as he tossed Lana an odd look, "Mayhaps an attempt on your life by a tea gown."
"I just…don't like dresses," shakily admitted the mage hunter, sinking her head even farther back into the blue hood, "Look, don't you have more important things to think about than my reluctance to wear a dress. We are on a floating kingdom after all, doesn't that strike you at least as a little out-of-the-ordinary."
"Mayhaps any more out-of-the-ordinary than making converse with a walking frog?" asked Glenn straight-faced.
"Touché", responded Lana with a laugh, "Touché."