You spend a good part of Tuesday morning in the basement, and most of that within your Mirror Hideaway.
The first thing you do there is to set up a "clean circle," arrange several Prying Eyes around it, and layer various forms of Divination Magic upon them. Then you step into the circle, break out the Heart of Water, and absorb it.
The brief chill and sense of dampness, you were kind of expecting.
The vaguely metallic aftertaste comes as a surprise.
You start doing some simple exercises, testing your mana, your ki, and other aspects of your Power to see how this latest addition has affected them - where it has at all.
Gained Poison Affinity F
Gained Poison Resistance F
Gained Poison Sense F
Gained Water Affinity E (Plus) (Plus) (Plus)
Gained Water Elementalism D (Plus) (Plus)
Gained Water Palm F (Plus) (Plus) (Plus)
Gained Water Resistance E
Upgraded Elemental Sense
Huh.
So, yeah, in hindsight, it does make sense that a venomous snake might have an affinity for poison - that's apparently an element, now? Weird - and while Alboa never got around to biting or spitting at you, Vira did mention it literally spat in her face when she tried being diplomatic.
Bemused by this discovery, you go about the room gathering up your observers and assimilating their observations. There isn't anything particularly noteworthy to be seen in regards to your person, as the Heart did what it was supposed to do, but you do spot a slight... friction, maybe... between the Heart of Water and the Heart of Fire where they are nested within your soul.
Something to keep an eye on.
Once that's done, you summon up Robin - who appears in a burst of hot, metallic smoke, clad in a thick leather apron and goggles, a silver hammer raised above his head as if to strike an anvil that's no longer before him - and hand off the Grimstalker's Armor for disenchantment and disposal, as you'd discussed in passing during those hours of mining for ore.
After everything he saw and heard when you were talking to Chloe, Robin is well aware of the value of the service he's providing you by doing this, but considering that he's planning to use some of the sungold the banaan was guarding for his own project, he's saving his own neck from the Fae lord's possible wrath, too. By helping you, he helps himself, and so cancels out any obligation there.
The enchantments on the Armor are nothing that Robin hasn't seen before, which he argues isn't worth giving you full value for them, but you point out in turn that the chance to study another Fae smith's technique - both in terms of mundane forging and magical enhancement - is valuable in its own right. Robin can't really argue that point, and perhaps because of his obvious eagerness to get back to the task you pulled him from, he doesn't try too hard.
That leaves the material worth of the battle-silver that makes up the mail, which you both agree is significant enough to merit full value.
"Call it six hundred Rupees, after costs," the smith offers.
Your own estimates put the total worth of the Grimstalker's Armor somewhere past seven hundred and thirty Rupees, before whatever it costs to break the stuff down, so that's not too shabby.
It also leaves you with quite a budget for Kahlua's birthday present, and/or to pay for that upgrade for your Blessed Blade you were thinking about.
After settling accounts with Robin and letting him get back to work, you bring forth Batreaux and do some intensive spellcasting practice, focusing on the Spell of Mind Blank, which you fully anticipate Shadow Alex will need in the upcoming raid on Silbern. You also try to emphasize a few other spells that seem likely to be useful...
You ask Robin how much Hylian steel he could get for you, for the price of three hundred Rupees.
The Fae smith replies that it really depends on what form you want the stuff in.
"You can usually get a shirt of mail for fifteen Rupees, a breastplate for twenty-five, or a suit of full plate for a hundred and seventy-five," he offers some examples. "That's for ordinary steel, though; if they were made out of Hylian steel instead, you'd be paying something like sixty Rupees for the mail, ninety for the breasplate, and four hundred for the plate. And that's JUST for the armor, mind you; any magical enhancements would cost extra."
Ouch.
"If you just want ingots to work with on your own time, it's less expensive," Robin continues. "Something like four Rupees to the pound, assuming you're licensed by the Crown and the Smiths' Guild to trade in and work with the stuff - which I'm pretty sure you're not."
Not currently, anyway.
"Yeah. Now, you might be able to convince the Church to speak for you, on acount of the whole 'Chosen of Din' thing you have going on-"
And then again, he might not.
Yeah, Bacon Breath kind of ruined that title for everybody else, and then there's the whole "DARK SORCERER FROM ANOTHER WORLD" issue.
These people really have to get over their trauma one of these centuries...
"-but unless or until that happens, I can't sell you ingots. I gave my word."
Frustrating, but fair.
"That leaves you the black market," Robin goes on, earning a startled look from you, "but you'd be paying something like four or five times the official rates on a GOOD day. Or so the rumor has it; I, of course, know nothing about such people and would never deal with them or encourage others to do so."
...right.
This seems like an opportune moment to revisit the matter of upgrading your Blessed Blade, and so you do, explaining to Robin that, while you were able to secure most of the items on the list he provided you - thank you, Gen - you haven't managed to lay in a source of shapeshifter's blood.
"That is to say, I talked to a friend - you remember the Shuzens, right?"
"They made quite the impression in the Ring of Trials," the smith replies.
"Right, so I'd offered to upgrade the Gauntlets Kahlua was using, so that she could keep them on while using those arm-blades of hers. I took a cue from you about using her blood to empower the transformation, and also to designate her as the owner of the Gauntlets-"
Robin nods, understanding the decision and the mechanics behind it.
"-and while Kahlua was mostly okay with the idea, she did have to get permission from her parents for it for safety reasons, and they ended up giving me just enough blood to do the job, with a little left over because I managed to get it done right on the first attempt. Seeing how cautious they were about giving out blood to improve something that was already Kahlua's property, it didn't seem right to press the issue with them, or to go to any of the other monster families I'm on decent terms with."
Again, the smith gets your reasoning. "Well, if you're going to drop that reagent, I can certainly source it myself. Might take a while longer, and you'll still owe me... hmmm..." Lowering his voice, he mumbles, "Three hundred for the normal job, half-off for all the reagents, but minus the primary element brings it to... make it two-twenty-five," Robin concludes, speaking in a normal tone at the end.
You consider that. A twenty-five percent discount for the materials you can get from Gen's isn't a bad deal, just objectively inferior to getting the job done for half-off. But if you can't secure a shapeshifter's blood, you don't really have a choice in the matter.
That said, you ARE going to be doing the Shuzen family one heck of a favor by resurrecting Jasmine. You'll be working with some of Akua's blood in the process, so if you handle THAT responsibly, on top of your proven safe use and disposal of the blood Kahlua donated for your work, you might be able to convince them to donate to a good cause...
!
...and it occurs to you that your recent adventure in Faerie might have given you another option. While Alboa didn't specifically demonstrate any transformative powers during your encounter, snakes are symbols of transformation in some traditions, and Fae are often shapechangers.
You mention this to Robin, who admits it's possible that Alboa's blood might be what you need, but adds that he'd need a much closer look at the Ophidian Troglofae to be sure one way or the other.
Your Mirror Hideaway is technically big enough to hold Alboa's corpse without crushing you, Briar, and Robin in the process, but there might not be enough room for you to properly drain the blood from the corpse; if you just reverted the body from plush to flesh, it'd bleed out all over the floor, which would at the very least be difficult to clean up, and more than likely contaminate the precious liquid and lower its value. You'll have to set up somewhere else and do the job right.
You were planning to summon Batreaux for advice on how to do that - you've rendered insects and a few small animals down for reagents at Gen's before, but never anything NEAR the scale of the great white cave-snake - but Robin is willing to lend his experience as well. For a fee, which he would prefer to claim in materials drawn from the body.
On a related note, if Alboa's blood does turn out to be a suitable reagent for the shapeshifting enhancement you wish to apply to your Blessed Blade, it'll be the only part of the snake you can use for your own purposes, without devaluing it or the remainder of the body. Everything else, you'd have to trade or sell off, or use at a fraction of its true worth.
All things considered, you decide it would be more practical to take the value of the Grimstalker's Armor - minus whatever you end up paying for the work on your Blessed Blade - in Rupees.
For one thing, you already did your birthday gift-giving this year, and getting Kahlua another present, particularly an expensive one, would increase expectations all around. You have neither the time nor the funds for that at present, but adding a few hundred Rupees to your inventory would make it a more achieveable goal next year.
Also, while you can't legally obtain unworked Hylian steel, you CAN evidently acquire it in the form of finished goods - or at least SOME finished goods, you haven't forgotten about that official policy of not selling Hylian Shields to non-knights. With that in mind, as well as the example prices Robin quoted, it just makes sense to save up for future purchases.
And while confirmation of the existence of a Hyrulean black market is Interesting in multiple senses, quite frankly, it feels like dealing with such an organization would more trouble than it's worth. The potential legal consequences, should you or - more realistically - whoever you sent to make purchases on your behalf be caught by the authorities, would be troublesome enough, but there's also the issues of questionable quality, uncertain supply, excessive costs, and the non-zero chance of stirring up the Curse of Demise again.
Ganondorf WAS a thief before he became a Demon King, after all.
Fortunately, Robin has no qualms about paying you in cold hard crystal.
Gained 300 Rupees (2 Purple, 5 Red, 10 Yellow)
Gained Law-Abiding F (Plus) (Plus) (Plus)
Oooo, shiny new color!
On a side note, your Hyrulean Wallet is about two-thirds of the way to capacity. We'll see how long that lasts...
With the promise of a new reagent to be had - even if you are careful not to state exactly WHICH part of Alboa's body you'll be handing over - Robin has no qualms about delaying in settling accounts with you, or about losing a day's work on Project Fairy Death Machine.
You might have had more trouble on the latter point if the smith had already started turning out pieces for the automaton, but he's still in the process of smelting the Fae ores you collected, as well as revising the design (again) to account for the addition of the Heart of the Storm.
Business done for the moment, you thank Robin for his time, send him home, and call up Batreaux to begin your spellcasting practice.
Perhaps half of today's time is spent working on the Spell of Mind Blank, with you ritually raising your latest version of the shield and Batreaux doing his best to penetrate or bypass it via a barrage of Divination, Enchantment, and even Necromancy.
Fear spells. Gotta hate 'em.
Once the effects wear off, the two of you discuss what worked and what didn't, and why, after which you dismiss the spell and try a new variation. Eventually, you hit upon what seems to be the correct alignment of variables in the matrix; this you leave running, so as to test out its endurance and performance in different environments.
You also make a few attempts at the Spell to Walk Through Space, although the lack of room in your Mirror Hideaway makes that one a little awkward. You can't really test its maximum range like this, but your extensive practice with teleportation leaves you with few doubts on that account, and by this point, you figure you've got the rapid-fire aspect down as well.
It just needs some combat testing, which is something else you can't really do in the confines of this extradimensional room.
You make a note to head out to the desert again after lunch. Dodging some summoned monsters will not only be good for a "live fire" exercise of Walk Through Space, it'll let you test out the Spell of Foresight as well. You have few qualms about casting the latter, your overall mastery of Divination Magic serving you in good stead.
You're a bit less certain about the Spell of Regeneration and the Spell to Create A Demiplane. You've reviewed the theory on both extensively, but you've been understandably reluctant to test the former, while the latter is just such a timesink that it's difficult to try out.
You suppose you COULD try cutting up some of the creatures you summon for your combat exercise and then using Regenerate to put them back together. There wouldn't be any long-term PHYSICAL harm done if you screwed up, it'd just be... messy and unpleasant in the short-term.
As for Create Demiplane, Batreaux advises you to pay close attention when you visit Navi's conjured haven(s) over the next few days.
After lunch, you head out to the desert and set up a Private Sanctum, where you re-summon Batreaux to oversee your work, and then cast an Extended Spell to Summon Monsters and call up a few creatures you can speak with.
*POOF*
Your teacher arches an eyebrow. "Bokoblins? Really?"
"I just asked for 'something injured,'" you say.
"Blin?" one of the pig-faced, small-horned goblinoids inquires, looking at the two of you. Judging by the fact that he's slightly taller and less weedy-looking than the other two, this is probably the leader.
You also note that, as per the terms of your spell, all three of the Bokoblins look rather battered, with several crude, bloodstained bandages wound over various injuries.
"Yeah, hi. Can you understand me?"
The Bokoblins nod.
"Okay, then. The reason I summoned you guys here is to help me practice some spells."
The Bokoblins flinch.
"The first one is a type of teleportation. What I want you to do is attack me-"
The Bokoblins perk right up.
"-while I blink around, try not to get hit, and poke you back."
The Bokoblins... hestiate.
"Boko?" the leader inquires cautiously.
"I'll just be using my hands," you say, waving one of said appendages. "Nothing fancy or painful, just a push."
"...blin," he agrees, nodding with relief.
"The second spell I want to practice is a healing spell-"
"Bokoko!?"
"-which can restore lost limbs. So, are any of you missing a finger or something?"
One of the Bokoblins looks hopeful as he raises a bandaged hand, which is... really more of a stump.
"That'll do," you admit.
Gained Goblin F (Plus)
You feel bad enough for the Bokoblins that you try out the Spell of Regeneration first.
"B-b-bobokobo!?"
"Calm down! It won't hurt you!" you try to reassure the alarmed monster as he runs around, clutching the wrist of his hand, which is swelling and pulsing in a frankly disturbing manner. "I only summoned you, what happens to THIS you won't affect the REAL you!"
That Bokoblin keeps panicking.
The other two look confused and worried.
You realize that they probably don't understand how Summoning Magic works.
"Is it supposed to work like that?" Briar wonders in a queasy tone of voice.
"You're asking me?" you blurt out. "You're the healer!"
"Yeah, but I can't grow back people's body parts!"
Eventually, the Bokoblin calms down - right about the time the horrible growths of swollen flesh stabilize into recognizable fingers.
"Blinkoblin!?"
Of course, then he freaks out again, because he's now got three fingers on that hand instead of two.
How did that even-?
Should I feel bad for finding this funny?
The other Bokoblins are understandably reluctant to let you practice Regenerate on them at that point, so you just get on with testing out the Spell to Walk Through Space.
The Bokoblins trade glances, grin, and raise their clubs.
*Whoosh!*
*Bamf!*
*Poke!*
"Koblin!"
*Who-*
*Bamf!*
*-osh!*
*Poke!*
"Blin?!"
*Bamf!*
*Trip!*
*WHAM!*
Ugh.
"Koblin! Koblin! Koblin!"
As the little goblin dances around, waving his club in the air in triumph, you pick yourself up from the ground and reflect that this combat teleportation thing is harder than Nightcrawler makes it look.
Then again, the guy IS supposed to be a trained acrobat...
In any event, you get a few rounds of practice in before the Summoning Spell lapses, at which point you call up another batch of "injured creatures"-
"Blin?"
-which you THINK are four different Bokoblins, and repeat the whole thing from the start.
"Blinkoblin!?"
Including the part where their wounds swell and throb disturbingly and the goblinoids run around screaming in alarm, unfortunately.
Maybe you'd better test that spell on something OTHER than Curse-spawned monsters...
In any event, once the day progresses to what will be a reasonable hour in Karakura, you dismiss your summons and your other spells, and work a ritual teleport.
You have a few Quincy and Shinigami to introduce to Navi's demiplane.
When you arrive at the Kurosaki home this fine, locally Wednesday morning, you find that everyone except Isshin is out of the house. The man himself is in the clinic, and when you head around to the front door and enter, he comes into the waiting area with a cup of coffee in one hand and a newspaper in the other.
"Oh, good, you caught me before you left," Isshin says.
You wonder a bit at his choice of words, and also at how the Shinigami elements of his aura feel weaker than usual. "What's up?"
"Oh, what isn't?" He takes a sip from his mug before continuing. "Okay, first thing you need to know: Yoruichi got back from the Soul Society the other day. The good news is, they're gearing up to invade Silbern Saturday evening."
A frown creeps onto your face at the timing. Not because of time zone shenanigans, for once - you can drop Shadow Alex off pretty much whenever - just for how late they're leaving it. You mention as much to Isshin.
"Soul Society hasn't fought an actual war in a couple of centuries," he returns frankly, "and a lot of the veterans of the last one are dead, retired, or out of practice at fighting Quincy. Heck, most of their standing forces aren't used to thinking of living humans as a genuine threat; they need as much time to prepare as they can get."
You consider that, and nod. "So what's the bad news?"
"It comes in two parts. First, the Soul Society sent a Captain to have a little 'chat' with Urahara. I'm not sure if she's still in town or not, but I'm treating the answer to that as 'yes, and she's close enough to notice if you do anything funny' until further notice." Isshin gives you a meaningful look. "I strongly suggest you do the same."
You nod, and rein your aura in a little tighter, just in case.
Gained Spiritual Concealment C (Plus) (Plus)
Seriously? At that range?
This IS what they do for a living, so to speak.
"The other bad news is that Ryuuken dropped a line last night," Isshin continues. "He's expecting some of his relatives on his old man's side to hit town today or tomorrow."
You wince. "Right when there may be a Shinigami Captain in town, primed to be on the lookout for Quincy activity."
"Plus our usual crowd of lunatics," Isshin points out, unironically lumping himself in that category.
"Hence the hiding."
"Exactly." The doctor sighs, and mutters, "Really hoping this doesn't blow up in our faces..."
You absently reach out and knock on one of the wooden wall panels, as you consider how this new information affects your visitation. You can't turn around and leave, there's too much that needs doing, and it was pretty much a given that you'd have to reveal yourself to the Ishidas' relatives and the other Quincy - it would be kind of hard to save their lives, otherwise.
No, the question is whether or not you go about your business as you currently are, or if you want to try and hide yourself from possible official Shinigami attention at this juncture - and if so, how. You could use Illusion or Transformation Magic to disguise yourself as an adult, and hopefully inspire more credibility as a source and ally with this Shinigami if you run into her, but using Abjuration and Illusion Magic to further conceal your aura and try to avoid notice entirely, like Isshin's doing, is another option, as is doing both.
Or you could just stay as you are, and go for the honest approach - which, honestly, you are inclined to do. Illusions, transformations, and wards can all be broken, and while the Shinigami (either this one or the greater whole) might not be entirely thrilled to find out that their informant on the Hidden Empire hasn't even hit double-digits yet, they'd probably be even LESS pleased if they found that out at the same time they learned that you'd been deceiving them about your age.
Considering the situation, there are some precautions you'd like to take. With that in mind, you ask Isshin if you could borrow the clinic's bathroom for a few minutes.
"Sure, go ahead," he obliges. "Whatever you're going to do, though, don't take too long; you never know when a patient could walk in and suddenly urgently need to use the facilities."
Ergh. Yeah, you'll try to make it quick.
Slipping into the room and securing the door, you pull your Spider-Silk Suit (Big and Tall Edition) out of your dimensional pocket, along with your Boots of Air-Walking. They are... not the most ideal match-up, you must admit, but you don't have any other footwear on your person that will suit.
As you start undressing, folding up your day clothes, and packing them away in your pocket, you consider what spells to use. You spare a moment to be glad that you left your last attempt at the Spell of Mind Blank running when you left the house, as it saves you time and energy now, neither of which you can afford to waste.
For a moment, glancing into the mirror, you have a brief vision of your idealized older self wreathed in half a dozen complementary spells that would enhance your social capabilities to inhuman levels - and then reality intrudes.
Although you did your best to preserve your energy, between calling up Robin and Batreaux and your daily spell-practice, you still spent a good fifth of your mana. You have spells yet to cast today - to say nothing of the rest of the week - and the fact of the matter is that once your mana reserve drops to about two-thirds of your maximum, you pass the point where you can recover all your energy overnight with rest and food alone.
True, you have restoratives, but you'd like to save as many of those as possible for the Big Day. They're likely to be needed then, and you won't have the alternative then that you do now, of simply practicing some restraint in your use of magic.
Of more immediate urgency is the little matter of you borrowing Isshin's water closet for your impromptu spellcasting session. Several of the spells you had it in mind to cast would individually test the limits of your ability at concealment, at least when cast at the levels you desired - given you don't know whether or not you're going to run into a Shinigami Captain on this trip, you prefer to err on the side of caution and assume that you will, and moreover that she'll be hanging around for the length of your visit, which would mandate a rather significant increase to the duration and cost of most of those spells. Casting ALL of them would blow right through any attempt at hiding, as would one of the other spells you wanted to use, sending up a beacon for any magically sensitive entities to lock in on.
You can't in good conscience bring that kind of attention down on the Kurosaki household - your teleportation is already pushing it, and you make a mental note to check with Urahara about using his basement to leave town after this - nor do you have the time to set up a Private Sanctum in the bathroom or resort to ritual casting for everything you wanted to use.
It was such a nice, overpowered plan, too...
Sighing, you salvage what you can of the idea.
First, you get out your shiny Silver Crescent and cast the Spell of the Threefold Aspect, doing your best to suppress the energies involved.
Gained Mana Concealment A (Plus) (Plus)
Then you cast the Spell of Nondetection, just in case your use of Mind Blank isn't up to par. As you're pulling on your pants, you quietly thank the Goddesses that you're able to cast that spell for yourself without access to the diamond dust it normally requires, while still keeping it off the magical radar - if only just.
Next up is the Spell of Cultural Adaptation, and here you pause for a moment, shirt half-on, wondering which culture you should specify. What little you've heard about the Soul Society suggests a more old-fashioned social order than modern Japan, implying... well, all kinds of differences, really. Class distinctions, an overtly martial culture, likely a greater use of formality in social interactions. Being able to emulate some of the behavioral differences that go along with that would be useful, but it might also come across as suspicious - Shinigami and living humans aren't supposed to interact, after all.
Lastly, after pulling on your enchanted Boots - which conveniently adjust to fit your adult-sized feet - there's the Greater Spell of the Magic Aura, which you use to mask the active magics on your person - again, just in case Mind Blank doesn't work as expected.
One final check of your reflection to confirm you look more Alex-y than Ganondorf-y, and you unlock the door and step outside.
In the middle of taking another sip of his coffee, Isshin glances your way-
"PFFT!"
-and promptly does a spit-take that, fortunately, comes nowhere near you.
"Gah, hack- what happened to keeping a low profile?" the man wonders, wheezing.
"Magically, and hopefully supernaturally in general, I currently have no presence," you reply, fixing your cuffs. "And what's one more businessman on the street at this time of day?"
"You're ten feet tall!" Isshin protests.
"And I make it look good," you smirk.
The scruffy doctor pauses, looks you over again, and grudgingly gives you that one.
Thanking him for the use of the facilities and the helpful warning, you leave the Kurosaki Clinic and start making your way to Urahara Shop.
Yeah, having to explain how you'd learned to act like a native of a militant, isolationist afterlife in front of one of its most skilled and powerful residents seems too likely to entirely undermine the advantages. Besides, there's a good chance you're going to end up talking to some of the resident Quincy during this, and given what you know of their history, emulating the people that destroyed them twice over would also likely not go over well.
Modern Japanese it is, then.
The Spell of Cultural Adaptation doesn't change your physical appearance per se, but it does alter your body language and subtly guide your decision-making to help you blend in. As such, while there are a number of startled looks sent your way by the morning rush of pedestrians, car drivers, and bus riders, your reaction to this attention - subdued, not quite acknowledging your audience but also not quite ignoring them as you go about your business - seems to satisfy something in the onlookers.
Or maybe it's just the fact that you aren't stepping into anyone's personal space - or, you know, ON them.
You may not actually be ten feet tall, but at seven-foot-something, you're head and shoulders taller than the tallest people you pass, and that plus your broad-shouldered build gives you a lot of mass and momentum. A moment of casual contact could easily see your fellow pedestrians knocked over, to say nothing of the damage your Booted feet might inflict.
"Wow!"
And of course, there are still the (other) kids to think about. Many of those you pass stop in their tracks to stare, point, and whisper at you, at least until a nearby parent or other adult authority figure quietly scolds them to mind their manners and then hurries them along. At least one group of grade-schoolers take one look at you and start running - and they don't even look like the thugs you've run into!
But not all of them are content to keep their distance.
"Hey! Hey, mister!" one backpack-wearing pre-adolescent calls out as he runs up. At a glance, you'd put him at around your actual age - old enough to walk to school by himself, then, or at least to take the bus; hence the lack of parental intervention - but his face isn't ringing any particular bells. "Are you a giant?"
Aside from that kid, you don't have any encounters of note as you make your way to Urahara Shop. Even the thugs you've been running into on recent visits seem to be taking a different route today.
That said, there is a moment when you SEE something worth mentioning, this being a small person in a black outfit under a white coat running the rooftops and leaping across the street ahead and above of you. She's fast enough and subtle enough that you probably would have missed her, if not for the sudden concentration of spiritual energy registering on your senses - and that only faintly, you note with some concern - or how bright her coat is in the morning light, and how that contrasts with the two black braids trailing behind her or the sword she wears sheathed across her lower back.
You don't THINK she notices you, at least not as anything more than a larger-than-average pedestrian, but you reflexively tighten your metaphysical grip on your energies, keeping them as low as possible.
Mind Blank or no, you're not taking chances.
As you near Urahara Shop, a certain black cat pops up atop a nearby wall and immediately does a double-take in your direction, yelping in surprise and nearly falling off the wall.
You offer a friendly greeting. "Good morning, Yoruichi. Welcome back."
"Don't you 'good morning' me, brat," the cat hisses, recovering from the shock. "How the heck did you sneak- I mean, what did you do to your aura!?"
"It's called the Spell of Mind Blank," you reply easily, cheered by this indication that it's working well enough to muddle a Shinigami's senses. "It basically shuts down any and all attempts to read my mind, sense my aura, or do anything else of that nature. Offers some defense against mind-affecting effects, too, although that aspect isn't as absolute."
Yoruichi stares at you. "Just like that?"
"Well, no," you admit. "I've been working on this one for months, and this IS its first real field test. Still, early results suggest a positive trend!"
There's a pause.
"...magic is such cheating," the cat grumbles, fuzzy head shaking. With a put-upon sigh, Yoruichi looks up. "Fair warning, Kisuke is going to flip his hat when he finds out you can do that."
You consider that. You can see WHY Urahara might lose his cool when he discovers you're working on Mind Blank. It's a pretty incredible spell, all things considered, and the guy obviously has a vested interest in being able to hide himself, his projects, and his odd little... group? Family? You're not quite sure what the correct term is for the denizens of Urahara Shop, but keeping them under the radar is demonstrably a priority for the man, and Mind Blank is pretty much the ultimate in terms of magical undetectability. It's almost certain he could find a use for the spell, or even just from studying it in action.
If that's the case, maybe you should dismiss the spell? You have Important Things to deal with today, you can't really afford to have the Shinigami-scientist-shopkeeper getting distracted with another opportunity for SCIENCE. Plus you still have that vampire clone/artificial body/resurrection business to get through.
That said, seeing as how you managed to walk past one Shinigami without drawing attention and have just surprised another, you're honestly a bit tempted to go for the hat trick...
"I'm not a giant, the rest of the world is just small."
The words have no sooner left your mouth than you can feel someone sending you a dirty look.
...wait, that's just Briar.
The kid, for his part, looks confused by your words. "But... isn't that kind of what being a giant MEANS?"
"Not really," you reply. "Oni can be considered giants, and there's a lot more to them than just being big, right?"
Fortunately for Tatsuki.
"Depends on the oni," the kid replies thoughtfully, "but I think I get what you mean."
Part of you acknowledges that sneaking up on a couple of guys with combat-trained reflexes and enough of a desire to avoid official attention to fill their residence and working place with wards might not be the wisest course of action.
But most of you just wants to see the look on their faces.
Without a word, you adjust your stance and try to walk a little more quietly.
Yoruichi notices almost at once. "You're plotting something. Share."
"It's occurred to me that I really should test this spell against as wide a range of sensors as possible," you answer. "Isn't it convenient, then, that there are a couple of guys with heightened spiritual awareness just next door?"
Cats don't smile, but Yoruichi chuckles in amusement. "There is that. If you really want to sneak up on those two, though, you might want to lose or muffle the boots."
As you don't have any other footwear of the proper size and don't really feel like wasting the time or energy to conjure replacements, you discard the former idea. You DO know a few spells that would help you quiet your footfalls, though, the most efficient of which would be the Spell of Forced Quiet.
Magic aside, the Ki Step technique is also an option, but as you weigh the choices, you realize that you're overcomplicating the issue.
Are you wearing Boots of Air Walking or not?
The answer is of course yes, and so, rather than wasting mana and/or ki on a redundant effect, you simply activate the enchantment and start striding along on a thin layer of air. Between one step and the next, your bootheels go from clacking against the sidewalk to utter silence, and the sudden lack of sound is enough to make Yoruichi stop and look back at you over one furry shoulder.
"I didn't hear an incantation," the cat notes.
"The Boots are enchanted."
"...useful," comes the reply, which nonetheless sounds sounds mildly disapproving, "but if you rely on tools like that too heavily, your fundamental skills won't ever improve."
"I don't wear these Boots very often."
Which is probably half the reason why you didn't think of using them first, right there.
As you pass the last building between you and your destination, and Urahara Shop comes fully into view, you note that Tessai is out front, sweeping. The big man doesn't look up from his chore until you're halfway across the yard, at which point he gives a visible start and has to adjust his glasses.
Not quite the bug-eyed jaw-drop you were hoping for, but you'll take it.
"Mr. Harris?" he rumbles cautiously. "Why can't I sense you?"
"He's testing out a new cheat," Yoruichi replies.
"Ah. Magic, then." Behind that sharp-looking mustache, you think you see the man's lips quirk into a smile. "We'll have to show the manager promptly, of course."
"Of course," you agree. "More data points are always helpful. Though on that note..."
You take a minute to quiz Tessai and Yoruichi about what they can and can't sense from you, getting a more complete image of how the Spell of Mind Blank interferes with Shinigami spiritual senses. Once that's done, however, you ask Tessai where Urahara is-
"Entirely in the name of Scientific Inquiry."
-and upon receiving your answer, enter the Shop's conveniently open front door, resisting an impulse to exaggeratedly "sneak" along on tip-toe.
According to Tessai, the man with the bucket hat is in the sitting room, taking a relaxing tea break after a somewhat trying visit with an old acquaintance. You slip across the main Shop and do your best to quietly open the sliding door that leads into the back, before hover-walking down that hall and pausing just shy of the door to your destination. It, too, is open, and even with the wall in the way, you can make out Urahara's presence inside. Judging by his positioning and your memories of the room, he should be sitting with his back to the wall that will be on your left when you enter the room, giving him a good view of both the door and the windows mounted in the wall directly opposite it.
Nodding to yourself, you straighten up, take a quiet breath, and then step forward.
"Good morning, Mr. Urahara!"
"SnrkPFFTack!"
Bwahahaha!
Hahahahaha!
Honestly, the two of you...
Oh, wow, that sounded almost as unpleasant as it looked.
Also, that's two spit-takes you've startled people into so far today, with bonus points for this one being of the "inhaled the drink first" variety. You make a mental note to be on the lookout for a third opportunity.
Ah, it's moments like these that remind me why I don't have a problem with my faithful being sneaky buggers.
This, and the looks on the faces of all those would-be assassins when they realize their target knew they were there the whole time?
Exactly.
"Okay," Yoruichi observes with malicious glee - as if cats had any other kind. "That was totally worth the shock. Kid, you're forgiven."
"This unworthy one is awed by your merciful generosity, O Great Yoruichi."
"As well you should," the cat says, nodding regally. Then, perfectly pettily, the prowler prods, "How's the tea, Kisuke?"
"Gah, my sinuses," comes the pained reply.
Once Urahara has recovered, you don't doubt that he'll have questions, as well as a desire to do Science to you to figure out how you snuck up on him.
Once he can breathe normally again, Urahara is quick to seek answers as to how you managed to sneak up on him. Given that you did just make him inhale hot tea, you take a seat, briefly explain about the Boots of Air Walking, and then start talking about the Spell of Mind Blank.
About two minutes into the latter discussion, Urahara has pulled out a scanning device that frankly looks like a high-tech eggbeater that was attacked by an angry exorcist. It whirs, beeps, and does generally sensor-y things, which leave the man staring at the little screen on the back of the thing, then looking at you, and then looking back at his device.
Shortly after that, he signals for a pause and rushes out of the room.
"Tessaiiii! Bring the gadgets! Bring ALL the gadgets!"
Half an hour and the Goddesses only know how many scans later, you're standing in a back room of the Shop that you hadn't seen before, which looks a great deal more like what you'd pictured as a traditional laboratory. There's a ward worked through the floor, walls, and ceiling that emanates a sense of physical strengthening, additional spiritual shielding, and what you can only describe as "enforced cleanliness" - sort of like having a suspicious Mom standing over you, just waiting for something to spill, splatter, or scribble all over something else.
While Urahara and Tessai subjected you to a good dozen different handheld or at least relatively lightweight scanners in the sitting room turned examination chamber, this place holds a much larger device, the business portion of which incorporates an eight-foot-long reclining table with... with...
...look, you've been trying not to make Ghostbusters references at the sight of some of Urahara's gizmos, but that is ABSOLUTELY a colander with a bunch of wires attached to it set up at the head of the table.
"No Pro-Tec chin strap?" you ask dryly.
"They are surprisingly hard to come by on this side of the ocean," Urahara replies, smirking without a hint of shame. "Now, if you'll just hop up onto the table, lie back, and try not to think of giant marshmallow men..."
"Gozer is watching you," you warn, before taking off your suit jacket and placing it on a hanger near the door. "Is that thing even going to hold me?"
"It's rated for up to half a ton," Urahara says earnestly.
You don't bother to hide your surprise at the number. "...that much?"
"Some Shinigami have VERY big souls. Their gigai would reflect that."
Shaking your head, you sit down, turn about, and lie back, trying not to think of Stay-Puft. "Fair warning," you advise, as Tessei places a kind of hair-net full of electrodes over your head, and sticks a few more on your chest. A few of these, you note, have more ofudas attached to them. "Don't be surprised if you see a giant angry boar when you turn this thing on."
For better or worse, when Urahara fires the machine up, the Raging Boar does NOT appear on-screen. Instead, there's a slightly blurry representation of your head, showing different colors whose meaning is currently a mystery to you.
From over by the main console, Urahara gives a dull, "Huh."
"It... is consistent with our other results," Tessai says after a moment.
"There is that," Urahara agrees, eyeing other readouts that you can't see from your current position. "Pressure sensors are registering weight, temperature and pulse are both there, and the electrocardio- and -encephalograph read normal activity, but the ecto- and arcano-enhanced sensors aren't picking up anything except the ambient..."
Testing and discussion ensues, and in between following a penlight with your eyes, focusing your thoughts on various subjects, and cycling your various energies, you learn a few things.
For one, the various physical, chemical, and electrical sensors can pick you up just fine. This makes sense, as the Spell of Mind Blank was neither designed nor intended to protect the user from purely mundane methods of detection. It won't stop a trap from going off if you step on the pressure-plate trigger, nor will it prevent a hungry predator with a keen sense of smell, motion-sense, or electro-reception from adding you to its dinner menu.
Every sensor that's been supernaturally augmented, however, is returning a null result. According to some of those, you're either a soulless, comatose body with a pulse, an outright corpse, or a really, really high-quality false body. Others say you don't exist.
That might even be hurtful, if it weren't exactly the result you were going for.
You're a little surprised that the enhanced sensors aren't at least returning the information their purely technological components would normally pick up, but it appears that Urahara's improvements were quite thorough. Or maybe the energy of the spiritual-slash-magic enhancements contaminated the surrounding material? Either is possible.
Another twenty minutes on, when Urahara is starting to look a little wild-eyed, you call a halt to the proceedings.
"But-" the shopkeeper protests.
"No buts," you say firmly, as you carefully pull some of the stuck-on sensors off. "We've got other business, and it's on a deadline."
"Aw..."
"Really, Manager," Tessai sighs. "The science will still be there next week." The big man pauses and turns to you, adjusting his glasses. "You CAN re-cast this spell by then, correct?"
"I can," you say.
Tessai nods, and turns back to his employer. "There you have it."
Urahara huffs. "Fine."
Making your way into the warded basement level, you start setting up the array necessary to call Navi, so that she can drop off the planar keys to the two demiplanes, which you'll be distributing among the magic-users involved in this endeavor. You'll also be calling Batreaux, first to hand off his copy of the key, second to provide Plane Shifting so that you don't have to go into debt with Navi again, and finally to observe as you make another attempt at casting the Gate Spell yourself.
"Will we be visiting these pocket realms today?" Urahara inquires.
"Of course!"
Urahara cackles and dashes for the ladder, once again crying, "Tessaiiii!"
"...he DOES realize he's going to owe you, Bats, and Mom for this, right?" Briar's tone makes it clear she's not in the least BOTHERED by this, she just feels it's a thing that needs to be said.
"A true researcher must be willing to make sacrifices in the name of Science," you declare portentously. "Or something like that."
One summoning later...
"THE DAY OF DOOM APPROACHES, my student," Batreaux intones ominously. "Have our preparations been made?"
"I was just about to call up Lady Navi to get the planar keys."
"Excellent."
"After that, if you're up for an investigation...?"
"Far be it from me to offer the impression that I have ANYTHING less than FULL confidence in a Great Fairy's work... but yes, one should always inspect the merchandise at the earliest opportunity, if only to make sure you know what you're working with."
"Also, I figured this would be a good chance for me to practice the Gate Spell. You know, back and forth between the demiplanes, maybe the return trip..."
"Indeed it would!"
Another summoning later...
"Wow, that's a lot of gadgets," Navi blurts out upon seeing Urahara and Tessai.
"We're planning a field trip!" the man in the hat and clogs replies cheerfully.
"If that would be acceptable, Ma'am," Tessai rumbles.
Navi blinks, and looks your way with a certain amount of suspicion.
"They're very curious about your demiplanes," you reply.
"Hmmm. Well," the Great Fairy says, "on that note..."
Gained Forked Metal Rods
There are, naturally, two varieties of key. The ones that allow access to the timeless demiplane where you'll be stashing the Quincy refugees over the next few days are small forked rods of a silvery metal, which give off a faint sense of indefinite age and feel heavier than you'd have guessed based on their size. The keys to the demiplane of flowing time, meanwhile, are made from (non-Goddess) copper, and are spotted with tarnish.
You hand one of each type of key off to Batreaux, and then grab a boxful of gizmos. "All set?"
"Ready!" the two scientists chorus.
Looking at the two of them - Urahara's anticipatory smile and Tessai's mustache-quivering repressed excitement - you're put in mind of Zelda at Christmas. You also can't help but wonder what will happen if that Shinigami Captain comes back to the Shop while you're all away.
"Yoruichi will handle her," Urahara says confidently, making you realize you voiced that last thought out loud. "Now, FOR SCIENCE!"
"FOR SCIENCE!" Batreaux chortles, as he begins casting the Spell of Plane Shifting. "EVERYBODY HOLD ON TIGHT, AND TRY NOT TO FALL OFF!"
"Wait, is that even-"
-fly-
"-possi-bwah?"
You break off, looking around in some confusion.
You're standing atop what appears to be an island adrift in a sea of fog. It's a simple square-shaped landmass about two-thirds of a mile across, with overall conditions of light, temperature, and humidity comparable to a misty morning in late spring or early summer.
The cause of your "bwah" is the abundance of green growing things scattered throughout the demesne, from the low-laying grass to hip-high bushes to the young-looking trees that rise a few feet above even your currently commanding height. Berries, larger fruits, and nuts are evident in abundance, all looking fairly ripe, and you recognize several other types of edible greenery. There's also a river winding its way across the flat land, and a few pools scattered here and there, crystal clear and tranquil.
"I know, I know," Navi sighs. "You didn't ask for the green and blue, but this place was just so EMPTY with only the basic order, I just couldn't stand to leave it like that. Especially not when a bunch of people are going to see it."
Okay, you can understand a craftsfairy's desire not to show off substandard work, but still...
"I'm not paying extra for this," you note firmly.
"No, those are on me."
Good.
"Mass conjuration of biological matter," Urahara breathes in delight, as he crouches down next to a bush, one gadget out and beeping as he runs it across the leaves. "How real are these plants? Are they just mock-ups, or-"
"What sort of a cheap conjurer do you take me for?" Navi demands with mock offense. "It's a functional ecology - granted, it's one that consists entirely of plants and fungi, but everything here's completely viable."
"Samples!" the shopkeeper bursts out. "Tessai, please tell me you remembered the sample jars?!"
"Already ahead of you, Manager!" the big man answers, from over by one of the fruit-bearing trees.
...okay, you've probably lost those two to the siren song of Science for the next few hours. Which is only fair; you're going to be poking at the underlaying matrix of this place for a while yourself, before you start testing out Gate travel between here and the other demiplane.
Aside from those investigations and the creation of a few Magnificent Mansions to comfortably house and feed the Quincy while they're here, it's occurred to you that you could flood this plane with a few castings of the Spell of Private Sanctum, which would add a layer of security through obscurity; perhaps there are other precautions you feel like taking?
As you move about the demiplane, probing with your mystical senses and a few Spells of Divination, you ask Batreaux and Navi if they think consecrating a shrine to the Goddesses would add any meaningful protection to the demiplane.
"Not really, no," Batreaux replies. "At least not in this particular instance. If these Quincy were using undead shock troops or had summoned aid from the outer planes - or for that matter, if they themselves were CREATURES FROM BEYOND in any of the usual contexts - then it might be helpful, but for all that they are divinely empowered warriors who spent the last millennium hiding out on the Spirit Plane, they're still mortal."
"And even if it were the case," Navi adds, "widening a single shrine's area of sanctification far enough to cover this entire demiplane would be... well, maybe not impossible, but it'd be difficult enough that you don't really have enough time left to finish the job."
Alright, if one shrine won't do the job, what if you used multiple shrines- no?
Navi is shaking her head. "Not how it works, kiddo."
Eh, it was worth a shot.
"Speaking of the Wandenreich, though," you say then, "what do either of you suppose the odds are that we pick up a few sympathizers among the people we're trying to help? Besides the ones we already know about," you clarify, recalling Miles Archer's nephews, sons of a brother who worked for the Wandenreich until the day he died, and who Balthazar warned you he got concerning results about on an augury.
Batreaux and Navi trade glances.
"I would say, 'fair'," the Risen Demon replies.
"Seems likely," the Great Fairy agrees. "Sixty-plus people, right? Odds are at least one of them will either be in with the bad guys, or just suspicious enough of the whole 'mysterious offer of help from a mysterious sorcerer' bit to have the same overall effect."
Ah. Yes, now that she mentions it, you probably DO come across as a bit suspect to the majority of the Quincy families you're trying to save. An unfortunate side-effect of dealing with them through their elders or, as in the case of the Japanese branch, only those residing in one particular town.
That aside, you wonder if there's some magical precautions you could apply against such individuals, or external gatecrashers that might happen along. The KNOWN likely troublemakers are getting a Sleep Spell to the face at the earliest opportunity, but as for the unknowns... well, one option that comes to mind is calling up helpful outsiders with a good grasp on human psychology, or maybe even telepathy, to watch for trouble.
"Uh, Alex?" Briar ventures. "You DO realize you're suggesting a literal thought police with that last one, right?"
...
...okay, maybe the idea is not the most respectful of personal privacy, but-
"Leaving that aside for the moment," Navi interjects, "did you TELL the Quincy that there would be non-human security wandering around their safe haven, possibly reading their minds in the process, when you were convincing them to accept your aid?"
You did not.
"So they have not, in fact, agreed to any such thing?"
They have not.
"Would you agree, then, that it might not be the best idea to try and spring that kind of addition to the plan on them without first giving them an opportunity to have a say about it? Hm?"
You suppose you would.
"As for keeping 'gatecrashers' out," Batreaux notes, "I would suggest running a quick search of our refugees for objects imbued with Summoning Magic, or the spiritual equivalent thereof. Access to demiplanes almost inevitably requires a key, a pre-existing portal, or an 'invitation' from someone already inside, and as we can be QUITE certain that they don't have the first two-"
Benefits of using a "world" that didn't exist until a few days ago for this whole affair.
"-we would be wise to watch out for the third option."
That makes sense, and it's an approach you can add pretty easily.
You make a note to do so.
While conducting a telepathic search would be a quick and easy means of sniffing out any Wandenreich sympathizers, the fairies make a good point about the inherent violation of privacy and lack of consent. And based on your interactions with the Quincy to date, you can't really see an attempt to get that agreement going over well.
Miles Archer's comments about "outsiders" and what they should or shouldn't know about Quincy matters ring in memory, but even the Karakura Quincy have carried themselves with a certain reserve. Souken was the one who did most of the substantial talking, there, and he made it sound like most of his more distant relatives consider him to be some mixture of radical, failure, and/or outcast.
If the more typical Quincy would disapprove of discussing internal matters with a non-Quincy, a suggestion of outright mind-reading seems likely to draw protest - or possibly arrow-fire.
So you let the idea go.
...you might just add regular guards, though.
After an hour or so, you've run most of the non-invasive, non-energy-intensive tests on the demiplane you can think of, and raised enough Magnificent Mansions to accommodate the number of Quincy you're expecting, plus a few extra souls, just in case. The latter is mostly a comfort and convenience thing, as Navi's demiplane technically has room, climate, food, and water covered; you just think your guests would prefer private bedrooms (with actual beds), cooked food (that also wasn't entirely vegetable or fungal in nature), and of course, access to bathrooms.
With that done, you take a minute to check on Urahara and Tessai.
The shopkeeper is "leaning" against what appears to be empty air at the edge of the island, one hand pressed against nothing and spiritual energy flowing over, around, and through his outstretched fingers. In his other hand is one of the portable scanners, which he's running over the same area; behind him, Tessai has assumed command of an array of devices hooked up to an older-looking laptop that's been mounted into a free-standing frame with telescoping legs, which puts it at a comfortable height for his use.
"-spatial dimensions are recognizeable, but the temporal element is just bizarre," Tessai is saying as you move closer.
"Define 'bizarre' for me, Tessai," Urahara replies to his partner in Science, while not taking his eyes off the device in his one hand or breaking contact with the border of the demiplane with the other. "Because this one" - he hefts the scanner - "isn't showing anything unusual in that regard."
"About a third of these sensors are returning similar results," Tessai admits, "and as many more are essentially spinning randomly. Of the remainder, about half insist that Time has stopped - a statement the computer's internal clock doesn't support, incidentally - while the last sixth are showing, well..."
"Yes?"
Tessai's mustache quivers. "A 'wibbly-wobbly' pattern, sir."
Oh, they're good.
"Fascinating," Urahara drawls, before looking your way. "Alex! My interesting young client and friend, who brings me such wonderful experimental data, theoretical conundrums, and potential existential crises! Would you happen to know why Time in this place appears to be wibbly-wobbly?"
"That's because I asked Navi to make Time stop flowing here."
Urahara turns to the Great Fairy. "You can do that?"
"I can," Navi replies.
"Anyway," you continue, before the manic scientist can descend into full-blown madness, "I was just about to start testing out my own version of a planar travel spell, and I thought I should let you know, in case it threw your readings off."
Urahara's attention swings back to you, and from there to Tessai and their many, many beeping, booping, whirring gadgets.
"...could you give us five minutes before you get started?" he asks.
"Sure."
"Thanks!"
The two researchers take the next three minutes or so to finish up taking their current batch of readings. During this time, you move a short distance away from the border of the demiplane, which - as the region where the space of this pocket realm simultaneously connects with and disconnects from the greater plane beyond - is something of a layer of perpetual instability. While you don't anticipate anything going wrong with your casting of the Gate Spell, this will nonetheless be your first attempt at casting it off of the Earthly Plane, much less in a demiplane where Time doesn't work normally.
In short, best not to tempt Fate by leaving out simple, sensible precautions.
Not unexpectedly, Urahara and Tessai spend the last couple minutes of their requested grace period moving their devices into a better position to monitor what you're about to do.
You shrug and increase the shopkeeper's debt. Getting him to share what he knows about methods of cross-planar travel would be an appropriate compensation, you think...
And then, magic!
Your first attempt at opening a Gate is not intended to succeed, but rather, to give you a better sense for how the environmental conditions affect the spell, and also whether or not the reverse applies - you don't want to accidentally disrupt Navi's demiplane after all the work you did to pay for it! As such, you cast the spell ritual-style, giving yourself, your master, and the third-party observers plenty of time to feel out the interaction of forces and see if there are any trouble spots, and you cap it off by deliberately allowing the magic to fail.
Then you discuss the attempt with Batreaux, who gives it a clawed thumb up, and feels that you're up to making a serious attempt.
And so you repeat the ritual, doing everything as you just did it, but holding the magic longer, focusing on the forked rod of tarnished copper in your left hand, reaching into and THROUGH it-
Energy flares around a spot before you, lightning-like discharges writhing about each other and across the fabric of space-time, and then a hole opens up ten feet across revealing another island of rock floating in a sea of mist. This one, you note, lacks any hint of growing things.
"How long can you hold that?" Urahara asks.
"Couple of minutes, maybe," you reply tersely, as you keep the portal open. It's not overly taxing - the complex calculations required to maintain the bridge between two separate planes are offloaded to the spell's matrix - but it does require a constant effort on your part, and one you're not quite used to.
For all your skill at magic in general and Summoning Magic in particular, you don't have a lot of experience maintaining ninth-circle spells.
Batreaux takes a few seconds to run a diagnostic spell, before he nods. "It's stable, and I do believe that's the right plane. Would you concur, Lady Navi?"
"I would."
"Excellent!"
With your Gate declared a (tentative) success, Batreaux moves to the next phase of testing, summoning up a small flock of Keese-
"FLY, MY PRETTIES!"
-and directing them through the hole in space.
With a chorus of squeaks and a susurrus of flapping wings, the trio of monster bats fly through the portal.
"Interesting test procedure," Urahara observes.
"A well-trained Keese is a VERSATILE minion!" Batreaux chortles. "Now, if you'll excuse me... Phase Three!"
With that, he walks over to the Gate, sticks one hand through, and waves his arm around.
Briar snickers. "Really?"
"I'm not finished yet." So saying, Batreaux sidles towards the open passage, lifts one leg, and with entirely unnecessary exaggerated caution, pokes his foot over the rim of the gap.
You half-consider making a sound of surprise and worry, just because, but decide against it. There's playing a prank, and then there's wasting time.
As Batreaux brings his foot down in the other demiplane, and the rest of him follows along at a more natural pace, you turn to Urahara and Tessai. Nodding towards the portal, you ask, "Are you two coming with, or staying put?"
The shopkeeper eyes the Gate for a moment, then his rather large assistant and the array of devices he'd have to carry along, and then looks your current form over.
"I think we'll wait here," he says. "Might be a BIT crowded."
Considering that you're down to less than a minute's time and how long it took them to power down and transport the scanners the first time, you can see why he'd prefer to err on the side of not getting anyone or anything portal-cut.
After a quick glance at Navi, who shakes her head and gestures for you to proceed, you follow your teacher's example.
"One not-so-small step for a sorcerer," you declare, as you pass through the Gate, "ONE GIANT LEAP ACROSS THE PLANES!"
Batreaux throws back his head and laughs.
Urahara snorts.
Briar and Navi just sigh.
One you and your partner are through and clear of the Gate, you look back through it for a moment to see if anyone will be following you. Seeing that none of the three still on the other side are making a move to do so, and since your portal is starting to give off tiny versions of those bolts of not-lightning, you let the spell lapse.
The Gate crackles, hums, and slides shut, leaving you, your partner, your teacher, and a handful of Keese as the only creatures on the demiplane of flowing time.
Absently, you look around, once again struck by the lack of vegetation.
"Rather an empty feeling sort of place, isn't it?" Batreaux observes. "I must say, I have a better appreciation for Lady Navi's decision to 'decorate' the other one."
You nod, and - feeling no urge to stick around any longer than you have to - start familiarizing yourself with the local conditions.
The "unstuck" nature of time within this demiplane adds an interesting feel to the results of your probes, as well as a complicated variable to take into account the next time you cast the Gate Spell, but the calculations necessary for such things were tried, tested, and proven true long before you were born - possibly even before Ganondorf was born. As such, when you re-cast the spell about twenty minutes later, the portal opens smoothly, this time to a diameter of twenty feet.
Two freshly summoned Keese fly through the portal, and you're about to step through after them when you notice Urahara and Tessai hastily shutting down the scanners.
Wordlessly, you step out of the way, allowing them and Navi plenty of room to cross over. Once they're through, you collapse the Gate.
"How long was it on your end?" you ask, seeking confirmation.
"A little less than a quarter of an hour," Urahara replies, before glancing at one of his devices and adding, "I think."
You nod. That tallies with your request for a demiplane where time flowed twice as fast as normal.
Whether due to the lack of plant life or the base conditions of this plane being so similar to the first one, the Shinigami don't take nearly as long to probe this pocket realm. You spend the half hour that they're occupied reviewing the mechanics of the Material Plane and comparing and contrasting them with those of your current locale, and then doing another ritual-style dry run casting of the Gate Spell that you intentionally fail at the last step.
Satisfied by the results of that precautionary test, you start casting again. As the parameters of the spell slot into place, you consider where to place the "exit" side of the portal.
One of the nice things about the Gate Spell, when compared to the Spell of Plane Shifting, is that once you've got the planar key necessary to make it work at all, you can travel to any location on the target plane with pinpoint accuracy - at least in theory. In practice, some areas are warded against this kind of transit, the energies that flow through other spots are inimical to a safe passage, and - at least where the various more overtly magical planes are involved - there's always the chance that a random god-like being will deny you entry to its domain.
Since your planar key for Earth is specifically attuned to an area just outside the Shuzen estate, that's the easiest place for you to reach from here - assuming that you don't mind letting Urahara and Tessai catch a look at the spot, and potentially getting some readings of the place and/or wandering through. Opening up a Gate back to Urahara Shop would be more difficult, given the wards there, but should still be doable, and since Navi's Gates aren't setting off the alarms anymore, you can probably avoid damaging Urahara's property in the process.
Probably.
And then there's Sunnydale, which honestly has "bad idea" written all over it. You've got enough of a handle on Summoning Magic now that you're not really worried about setting off an interdimensional earthquake or anything of that sort by opening a Gate relatively near the Hellmouth; your main concern at this point is that, since neither the wards on your home nor at Lu-sensei's dojo are capable of concealing ninth-level magic, you'd effectively be casting the spell in open. And that just seems like it would be asking for another ghoul to start staking out the destination in question, or something akin to it.
In other words, more trouble than it's really worth at this time.
There are other places you could try to go, of course, but in terms of familiarity, local planar stability, and lack of worrying witnesses, those two are probably your best bets.
So, where will you go?
Thinking on it, it's likely better not to let Urahara catch a glimpse of the Shuzens' territory without giving them a heads-up first. And while you could probably hop back to his shop without issue, you're not absolutely certain of that; given that there's a Shinigami Captain running around Karakura today, you figure it's better to err on the side of caution and minimize your activity in and around the town.
Besides, just going back to the Shop would be kind of boring. Urahara's reactions to new locations have been pretty amusing so far, you'd kind of like to see what he does next.
It's with that thought in mind that you enter the coordinates for Bali Ha'i, and try to open the other end of the Gate there.
There is somewhat more of that crackling not-lightning energy involved when the Gate opens this time, but it does open, revealing a familiar island paradise under a... squinting through the portal for a moment, you estimate it to be mid-day or early afternoon.
Urahara and Tessai stare at the island on the other side of the Gate for a moment, quite likely taken aback by the spiritually potent atmosphere.
Then - as Batreaux sends his re-summoned batch of Keese through - they scramble for their devices.
"High ambient reishi," Tessai reports.
"Not as potent as Soul Society, but purer in some respects," Urahara adds.
"-definite signs of non-human spiritual activity-"
"-multiple elemental signatures, all over the spectrum-"
"-one VERY big one-"
"-centered on the volcano-"
"-but the aura-"
"-the whole island?!" The shopkeeper gapes at his readings, then at the Gate - which Batreaux has stepped through - and then turns to you. Pointing his cane at the portal, he asks, "That IS somewhere on Earth, right?"
"That," you reply, "is Bali Ha'i."
Urahara and Tessai trade glances.
"That would be the Pacific island with the volcano-spirit who can take on human form, correct?" Tessai inquires.
You nod.
"Like a bankai that decided to get up and go for a walk," Urahara breathes. "How did Soul Society MISS something like that?"
"It... IS several thousand miles from Japan?" Tessai offers weakly.
"They monitor spiritual activity all over the planet," Urahara retorts. "Maybe they can't ACT on most of what's going on outside of Japan, but they're at least aware of it. And a hotspot like THAT?" He waves at the portal.
"Actually," you interject, "from what Kahine said, the former residents of Bali Ha'i raised a barrier over the island that made it imperceptible to anyone 'with hatred in their hearts.'"
There is another speaking glance between the scientists.
Batreaux, meanwhile, has dismissed his minions - who were sending some rather pointed squeaks in his direction, probably complaining about the intense sunlight - and come back through the Gate.
"And this was... when, exactly?" Urahara asks.
"I'm not sure," you admit. "Kahine said she 'woke up' about a thousand years ago, and that the story was already an old legend by that point."
"...okay, that might explain it," the man in the bucket hat admits.
That's about the point where the Gate Spell gives out.
"Wha- wait, no, stop!"
The portal ignores Urahara's entreaties, and slides shut with a snap.
"Alex," the shopkeeper says, spinning back your way, "I would VERY much appreciate a chance to investigate the conditions on that island."
"I'm sure you would," Navi says then, "but leaving aside the debt you'd owe him for that, on TOP of what you already owe him for indulging your curiosity today-"
Urahara blinks. "But-"
"-there's the question of what you'd owe Kahine for poking your nose into her domain."
"-but Science?" Urahara manages.
"'A bankai that decided to get up and go for a walk,' Manager," Tessai reminds him.
That, at least, gives the shopkeeper pause-
"I'm sure we could work something out."
-for all of a few seconds.
Recalling that the barrier on Bali Ha'i has been failing for a long time, you're sure Urahara COULD work something out with Kahine. Now, however, is not the best time to be bringing that up. Particularly not if you mean to make a deal with Kahine regarding the repair of that barrier yourself...
In any case, you believe you've confirmed your mastery of the Gate Spell.
Learned Spell of Gate
Given what time it was on the island, it must be past six in the evening back in Sunnydale, so you should probably start wrapping this trip up.
There are a couple more things you could do in Karakura before calling it a day. One would be to meet that Shinigami Captain face-to-face, either by getting her to come back to Urahara Shop - which is, if not precisely neutral ground, at least known to both sides - or going out in public. Another option would be to check in with the Ishidas.
You probably don't have time for both, though - or perhaps more correctly, it's likely not a good idea to attempt to visit a family of Quincy right before or shortly after talking to a Shinigami Captain.
One of your reasons for this particular visit to Karakura was to check up on the Ishidas and see how your temporary renovation of their upstairs hallway was working out. While the news of Urahara being singled out for a chat by the new Shinigami in town made it worth checking on him and the other residents of the shop first, now that you've seen the adults and the store are fine - which is reasonable evidence that the kids are alright - you should get on with checking up on the (entirely and only) Quincy family.
Because after all, there IS a new Shinigami in town.
You open one more Gate, aiming at the basement of Urahara Shop, and while the portal opens with more of that energetic discharge, it DOES open, and not to the sound of blaring alarms. While Urahara and Tessai head through with their stuff, you and Batreaux agree that today's spellcasting trials are over, and he dismisses himself-
"FAREWELL!"
-with his usual style.
Navi opts to head home as well, leaving you and Briar to follow the Shinigami through the portal, which you close once you're through and clear.
Joining the pair on the lift, you ride up to the main floor-
"Where have you BEEN?" a young voice demands.
-and find Jinta, Ururu, and Yoruichi waiting for you. None of them look overly happy, although in Ururu's case, it's just her usual vaguely sorrowful expression. Jinta, on the other hand, is visibly angrier than HIS usual, and Yoruichi's tail is twitching in that way that cats use to express annoyance.
"You're late!" the short redhead continues. "Breakfast was supposed to be forever ago, and it's YOUR turn to cook!"
Urahara winces. "Ah. Um, sorry about that... it was for Science?"
"You're STARVIN' us for your SCIENCE!?"
"I-it's not th-that bad, Jinta," Ururu tries to speak up.
Jinta responds to that with a flat glare, half-annoyed, half-disbelieving, and says, "I heard your stomach growl not five minutes ago."
The little girl blushes and looks away.
"So, wait," Briar says then. "Urahara... can cook?"
The shopkeeper sends a wounded look at your partner.
"Surprising, isn't it?" Yoruichi half-purrs in amusement. "He's actually quite good at it, though-"
"It's just following another kind of formula," the scientist says with something that pretends to be modesty.
"-as long as you can keep him from experimenting too much," the cat goes on. "Then the results can be... questionable."
"My Swedish meatballs are to DIE for," Urahara declares.
"Oh, those were good," Jinta admits. "Can we have those tonight?"
"Your tofu meatloaf was a disaster," Yoruichi retorts.
"Ugh, can we NOT have that tonight?"
"Y-yeah," Ururu agrees weakly. "That was... p-pretty bad."
"And then there was Soba Night-"
"And I should be getting on with the cooking," Urahara says quickly, ushering the kids towards the back of the build. "Alex, Briar, thank you for the brilliant research opportunities-"
"Wait, what's Soba-" Briar begins.
Urahara's hasty, steam-of-consciousness speech intensifies as he all but flees. "-will you be joining us, no, alright, see you next time, Tessai if you would, thank you!"
"-Night?"
Tessai regards the two of you gravely, and Yoruichi with disapproval. "The first rule of Soba Night: You do not talk about Soba Night."
Something about the way he says it simultaneously makes you more curious, and yet completely unwilling to ask.
...should I be disappointed in him for this, Wise Girl?
In this case, Farore, discretion really IS the better part of valor. And possibly sanity.
Wow, that does sound bad...
The cat, meanwhile, appears unrepentant, as cats usually do. It is perhaps telling that Yoruichi says nothing further, although that might also be because Urahara already ran away.
"...right," Briar says. "We'll... just be going, then?"
Light flashes on the big man's glasses as he nods. "Thank you, please come again."
You and Briar see yourselves out.
As you make your way through Karakura's midday streets, you once again find yourself a subject of concerted not-attention from the passing pedestrians, of whom there are quite a few. Folks headed out to or returning from lunch, perhaps? Health-conscious sorts taking a constitutional?
You also spy thugs aplenty, although none of them give you any trouble. They don't run screaming, either; there's a few respectful nods, others who duck their heads and hurry on by, and one group who come around the corner, catch sight of you, and turn right around and go back the way they came.
Being the big guy has its advantages.
You don't spy or sense the Shinigami Captain this time, which is... good?
Less good is that you're about halfway to the Ishida residence when an unfamiliar spiritual presence registers up ahead of you. It's not Shinigami, Quincy, or even a strong mundane soul, but has a cold, hungry feel similar to what you sensed that night you heard a Hollow's howl for the first time.
And then, with a flicker of white-on-black and a brief, focused pulse of Shinigami-flavored spiritual energy, the Hollow signature vanishes from your senses.
"Crap," Briar breathes. "Was she following US, or tracking IT?"
This is a good question, and you're honestly not sure. Your various anti-detection spells are still going strong, so you SHOULD be safe on the spiritual front, but...
"We hear nothing, we see nothing, we know nothing," you murmur to your partner.
"Roger that, Schultzy."
...huh?
Shaking off your puzzlement at the rejoinder, you continue on down the street, acting as if you hadn't just glimpsed a spirit samurai exterminating a soul-eating undead monster. Your act is helped by the fact that the Hollow and Shinigami were up on top of one of the buildings ahead of you, rather than out in the middle of the street or anything like that, so you truly did not SEE anything - and those on the roof likely couldn't see you in the brief moment where your attention shifted their way.
Again, you pick up that whisper of spiritual power, moving... up the street the way you came.
You resist the urge to look over your shoulder and keep going.
A few minutes on, and it's like the encounter never happened, which is once again good evidence that your Spell of Mind Blank is working as intended.
Even so, you decide not to take chances; rather than head for the Ishida or Kurosaki residences, you make your way to the Arisawa shrine.
The place seems rather empty when you arrive, Tatsuki and her siblings having another month and a half of classes, while Mr. Arisawa is at work. For a moment you wonder if you've missed Akkiko as well-
*Thud*
-but then you catch the sound of something hitting the floor in one of the storage sheds, followed by some unintelligible but enthusiastic cursing.
You wonder if you should head over and offer to lend a hand, or just wait for Akkiko to finish up and notice you... assuming she CAN, you belatedly add, given your multi-layered Abjurations. Maybe you should call out and let her know there's someone here?
Although a certain part of you is once again considering mischief...
Shaking off the urge to commit mischief, you clear your throat and call out, "Mrs. Arisawa? It's me, Alex."
For a moment, there is no response.
Then the door of the shed opens, and a familiar head of spiky hair leans out to look around.
"Boya? The heck is with your vo-oh, wow."
The sudden wide-eyed stare is kind of gratifying.
The following, vaguely predatory grin, rather less so.
"Well, now," Akkiko says as she walks across the yard. "Can't say I was expecting THIS, at least not for another decade or two." She looks you over in a manner that you find decidedly unsettling, for reasons you can't quite put into words, but then she shakes her head and the disturbing expression fades to a more familiar one of wry amusement. "Magic disguise?"
"Magic disguise," you agree. "Isshin mentioned there was a Shinigami Captain in town, so I took some precautions."
"Concealment spell of some sort, too," she notes.
"A new one, at least for me. Speaking of, can you sense anything...?" You gesture at yourself.
"Nothing but what my eyes and ears are telling me," Akkiko confirms. "That's a GOOD spell. Don't suppose I could get a copy of it?"
"It's eighth-circle," you reply, somewhat apologetically.
"Damn." The woman whose magical power you know doesn't reach that far sighs, shakes her head, and then sets aside her disappointment with a shrug. "So, what brings you by?"
You quickly catch Akkiko up on the purpose of today's visit to Karakura, and how it's been slightly derailed by the presence of the visitor from Soul Society. You finish by asking if she has the Ishidas' phone number, as - with one thing and another - you've yet to acquire it.
"Sure, just give me a minute..."
With that, Akkiko turns and heads for the house. She comes back out a minute later, flipping through a phonebook, and you get out your cellphone.
"...Ikeda, Ishii, Ishikawa... here we go, Ishida."
She recites a number, which you add to your list, and then dial.
Gained Ishida home number
"Thanks," you note.
"Not a problem."
The call rings once, twice, and is picked up before the third can start. "Ishida residence, Kanae speaking."
"Hello, Mrs. Ishida. This is Alex Harris."
"...it is? I mean, yes, good morning. How can I help you?"
Once again, you summarize.
"Ah. Well, those rooms you... added... to the upstairs hall are still there, and we've had no trouble from them or as a result of their presence. Not aside from the maid being a little put out, at least."
You blink. "How so?"
"At first, she was somewhat dismayed to learn that the number of rooms in the house had increased so sharply. Then she found out those extra rooms came with their own cleaning staff, which I think set off her territorial instincts - at least until she had a better idea of how MANY of those phantom servants there are, and what they are and aren't capable of, at which point she claimed her professional pride was offended." Kanae laughs. "Honestly, the whole thing was rather adorable."
You are... happy to have been of service, you suppose...?
Kanae also brings up the tangentially related matters of her in-laws and the Shinigami Captain running around town, and again, you note that Isshin gave you the heads-up.
Now that you have achieved proficiency with the Gate Spell and acquired the keys to Navi's demiplanes, you don't need to call her up to ferry you to those havens, and consequently have no pressing need to borrow Urahara's basement to summon the Great Fairy.
Really, if circumstances in the next week or two require you to cast a spell that you have reason to believe the local Powers would interfere with, you could just Gate to one of those demiplanes and cast it there. They're Navi's property, existing outside the Earthly plane and under no rules but those she's seen fit to impose, and you've paid the necessary "rent" to make use of them for the duration of their existence.
All in all, you have no real reason to return to Karakura for the next couple of days, and a few good reasons NOT to. This whole situation with the resident Shinigami exiles and Quincy, their incoming in-laws, the visiting Shinigami Captain, and the Third Quincy/Shinigami War brewing in the background is unstable, and you know from past experience that your presence has the potential to be... disruptive.
Better to remove yourself from the situation for a little while, and let the local experts focus their efforts on defusing - or at least delaying - one possible explosion.
You convey this to Mrs. Ishida-
*Thud*
"Damn it!"
-and are interrupted by the sound of something once again hitting the floor inside that shed, to which Akkiko returned after taking the phonebook back into the house, ostensibly giving you some privacy.
"What was that?" the lady on the other end of the line wonders.
"That was Mrs. Arisawa dropping something," you reply. "Possibly on her foot."
Possibly, but not likely; there doesn't seem to be enough swearing for that.
"...that woman," Kanae sighs, with much disapproval. "Can I at least be assured that you're making this call from the Arisawa shrine, and that she hasn't been poking her nose into and breaking other people's belongings while we've been talking?"
...
"Is it mean of me to say that I can totally see her doing that?" you wonder aloud.
"If it is, call me a bad guy," Briar says.
"No," you're told over the phone. "She's actually done it."
Well, you assure Mrs. Ishida that's not what's happening right now; you really are at the Arisawa shrine, and if Akkiko IS breaking anything - though once again, there's not enough profanity for that to seem likely - it's stuff she has claim to.
After sorting that little sideline out, you wish Kanae well in dealing with her relatives, thank her for her time, and end the call.
Putting your cellphone away, you eye the Storage Building of Repeating Thuds for a moment, wondering what the heck Akkiko is even doing in there that could cause two moderately heavy objects to hit the floor in less than ten minutes (or one object to do so twice), and then call out, "Are you still alive in there, Mrs. Arisawa?"
"Ha, ha," comes the flat response. "Very funny. Yeah, I'm fine, just... gimme a sec."
When Akkiko emerges from the shed a moment later, she seems undamaged, but is scowling in annoyance. Thankfully, it doesn't seem to be directed at you.
"Work everything out with Kanae?" she asks rhetorically.
"Yes, and thank you again for the help."
One of these days, you'll learn to restrain your curiosity - but today is not that day.
"Sorry if I'm intruding," you offer, "but what exactly have you been doing in that shed? I've heard something fall over twice since I got here."
"Ah." Akkiko looks chagrined. "That's just... architecture and nature being jerks."
You wait a moment.
Akkiko says nothing.
"...how so?" you press lightly.
She sighs. "Okay, so when Masaki let me know a Shinigami officer was in town, I figured it might be a good idea to check all the wards on the property, just to make sure everything was locked down and I wouldn't have to put up with a 'more spiritual than thou' ghost samurai poking into things that weren't any of his or her business, or looking down their nose at my kids."
Not particularly worried about herself or her husband, you note in passing. The former makes sense, as you've seen several times now that Akkiko can certainly take care of herself, and the latter... well, the handful of times you've been within sensing range of Tatsuki's father, he's seemed like a pretty normal guy, entirely human and not spiritually or mystically empowered. So a Shinigami would probably be forbidden to do him harm in most situations.
Speaking of...
"It's a her," you note offhandedly.
Akkiko blinks. "...you saw her."
You nod.
"And she didn't see you?"
"She may have SEEN me," you admit, "but she's gone past me twice today without so much as a spiritual twitch in my direction."
"...that is a REALLY good spell," Akkiko says admiringly.
"It really is."
"Anyway," the priestess continues, "I gave the grounds the once-over, and wouldn't you know it? Some of the seals keeping the junk in there" - she gestures back to the shed - "under control and off the radar were in need of replacement. So I've been switching those out for fresh ones."
"Still not hearing how this turned architecture and nature against you," Briar notes.
Akkiko huffs, folds her arms, and looks away. "One of the seals is up where I can't reach, I don't want to cast any spells today if I can avoid it-"
Recalling how the Arisawa family style mixes elemental and spiritual energies, you can see why she might be averse to that with a high-ranking Shinigami running around town.
"-and I can't. Find. The gods-damned stepladder."
You look down at the woman, suddenly reminded that - despite her obvious physical maturity and the way her personality makes her seem larger - she isn't even five and a half feet tall.
Akkiko glares back up at you, and is she blushing?
"Would you like some help?" you offer in as neutral a voice as you can manage.
There is a beat.
Akkiko buries her face - which is definitely a bit redder than usual - in her hands.
"Ffffuuuuaaaarrrrgh-YES!" comes the explosive outcry. It's followed by a manicured finger pointing up at your face - and still failing to cross the full distance. "But you are NOT allowed to tell anybody about this!"
You solemnly swear you will not tell anyone about these events.
This does not prevent you from speculating on the possibility of sending Akkiko a Spell to Summon A Stepladder as a gag gift, or maybe just getting her an actual stepladder.
Regardless, with the promise extracted-
"And that goes for you, too, Missy," Akkiko adds, pointing at Briar.
"Hey! Do I LOOK like the sort of person who has any room to tease someone else about their height?"
"You look like a fairy."
"...eh, fair cop."
-from both you and your partner, the three of you enter the storeroom.
The Arisawa Shrine's storage shed is at once similar to and distinct from its counterpart at the Hakuba Shrine. Both buildings seem to be drawn from the same school of architecture, both are full of objects that range from small handheld items to wrapped-up packages to a man-sized statue, and both have ofudas stuck to many of their contents and strategic positions along the walls, floor, and ceiling.
But unlike the shed at the Hakuba Shrine, with its heavy seal constraining an air of ominous portent and poorly lit interior, this storage room seems a lot less forbidding. There are actual windows, for one thing, which aren't papered over with wards - though they do have four ofuda layered along their frames, almost like a kind of cheap weather-sealing - and while there are numerous spiritual and magical auras that register to your senses, none of them give you the sense of sleeping doom or watchful malice that most of the stuff in the Hakubas' keeping did.
You wonder at the difference.
Ignoring the relics, Akkiko guides you to the back of the shed and wordlessly points up to where the wall and ceiling join. You count four ofuda, one in each corner and two more at points equidistant from the first pair; glancing down, you see the arrangement mirrored along the floor, with a third set of wards located halfway up the wall.
While all eight of the lower-hanging ofudas look and feel brand new, as well as the one in the upper left corner, the remaining three are all faded, both in terms of ink and the energy they're contributing to the overall ward on this structure. On top of that, the bottom half of the next ofuda from the corner is hanging loose from the wall, a visible tear across its bottom third or so.
From the look of things, Akkiko must have climbed that shelf and been hanging off its front face, when she... lost her grip? Slipped?
You suppose she's lucky the whole thing didn't fall over on her, but then, it DOES look pretty solid, and there are plenty of those cloth-wrapped boxes and additional items weighing it down...
Glancing around, you note that - not counting the ward-sealed windows and the door, the latter of which has a few ofudas on it and its frame for good measure - there are twelve more ofudas on each wall. Again, all the ones within easy reach have already been replaced, as have those along the top of the front wall.
Eleven in total, then.
"Okay," you say, taking a strip off the top of the stack of ofudas standing within easy reach. "How do we do this? Do I put these up, do I pick YOU up-"
"You are NOT picking me up," Akkiko says flatly.
You figure it's probably better not to bring up the differences between the two shrines' storage rooms without representatives of both shrines present to give the go-ahead.
Plus, you recall Ichigo mentioning that the original shrine built on this site burned down when the oni the Arisawa ancestors had enslaved finally tricked its way to freedom. That might explain the difference right there.
"Duly noted."
Although you acede to Akkiko's insistent refusal, you find you can't quite let the matter go at that.
"So," you ask lightly, "you're going to pick ME up, then?"
Akkiko sputters.
Briar just about falls out of the air laughing.
Gained Pranking E (Plus) (Plus) (Plus)
In the end, nobody picks anybody up - at least not physically. The only reason Akkiko didn't resort to magical means in the first place is that her style of spellcasting involves the manipulation of spiritual energy, and she didn't want to take the chance that a Shinigami Captain might be able to sense her using magic as minor as the Spell of Levitation, even from inside a warded structure.
Your magic does not have that particular problem, and given you were able to ritually cast a fourth-circle version of the Spell of the Threefold Aspect in the unshielded Kurosaki Clinic earlier without drawing attention down on Isshin-
You pause to make a quick phonecall to confirm that.
"Nope, I'm still alive," the man replies easily.
-you have no compunctions about using the rather less potent Spell of Levitation to help Akkiko overcome the elevation problem, while you hand ofudas up to her as needed. There's an unavoidable flicker of spiritual power each time she replaces and activates one of the seals, but since most of the energy is already bound up in the paper talismans and is going directly into the already active ward on the shed, it registers as little more than a weak shift in the energy signature. With one ofuda replaced, Akkiko pulls herself along the wall to the next spot, hovering with her back to the ceiling so as to avoid having her feet dangle and catch on any of the objects standing around.
Hover, replace, and repeat.
The whole business takes maybe eight minutes, and about a third of that was you ritually casting the spell and Akkiko getting used to defying gravity (with someone else's help). When it's done, the priestess finds an empty spot along the wall and rights herself, and you lower her back to the floor before canceling the magic.
"Thanks," she says shortly. "Now let us never speak of this again."
"Speak of what?" you ask innocently.
"Exactly."
As Akkiko exits the shed, you smirk behind her back.
After all, stepladder-related gift-giving requires no speaking.
With the refurbishment of the shed completed, your business in Karakura is over for the day. Since even the Spell of Mind Blank won't hide the residual energies of teleportation, you say your goodbyes and depart the Arisawa Shrine, heading down to the park. Your reasoning is that there shouldn't be too many people there: most kids are in school, and adults at work; and it's getting on towards lunchtime, so the preschool lot and their caretakers are likely headed for the nearest available kitchen, lunchroom, or take-out place; so if the Shinigami does sense your spellcasting, no harm should be done.
You have, however, reckoned without the thugs. A five-man band is sitting or standing around the playground area of the park, one leaning against a tree, another sitting on top of the jungle gym, and a third on the end of the slide.
"That's one of 'em, bro!" a familiar-looking punk says as he leaps up from one of the see-saws, pointing one finger up at your transformed face. "He was with the old guys that freaked out Toshi!"
...oh, come ON. These guys again? Really?
"So," the leader says as he looks up at you, straightening up from where he was slouched against the tree. "Care to explain why one of our guys has the heebie-jeebies about the Men in Black?" He pauses, frowning. "And why do I feel like I've seen your face somewhere before?"
"...dude, he does look kind of familiar."
"I think I'd remember meeting a guy that big."
"Unless he kicked your ass so hard you blocked it out."
"Shut up."
Perhaps out of worry that it would draw that Shinigami Captain's attention, maybe from concern that too much memory modification could potentially have side-effects, or just because doing the same thing in the same situation would lack a certain creative flair, you find yourself reluctant to use the Spell of Memory Lapse on these guys for a second time.
Instead, you don a big, friendly, slightly vacant smile, nod in a genial manner and start speaking in English in a Loud, Clear Voice.
"Sorry to bother you, young man, but could I trouble you for directions?"
There is a round of blinks.
"Uh, what'd he say?" the punk whose name you think is Hachi asks, looking around.
"I... think he just asked us for directions," the one with the bad dye job, Kenta, replies.
"Tourists," one of the other thugs groans.
The leader visibly shifts mental gears and then, in rough but serviceable English, replies, "That's not a problem, but would you mind answering a question, first?"
"Oh? How can I help you?"
"Hachi there" - he indicates the thug in question, who flinches at being singled out - "says he's seen you around town before, and that a friend of ours ran away from you screaming at the time."
"Why is he looking at me, bro? What's Shinji saying?" Hachi whimpers.
"Calm down, man."
"Ah, yes, I believe I remember the young man in question." You shake your head. "I have to say, it was quite the experience, having someone literally do that. Is he alright?"
"I don't wanna calm down, I wanna know what Big Bro and the big scary dude are saying about me!"
"Dude, chill. They're just talking about Toshi."
"Not entirely," comes the answer. "He keeps saying the Men In Black are after him."
You fake a frown. "Like the movie?"
"I can't think of anything else it might be." The boss thug admits. "Would you happen to know what that's about?"
"Aside from the fact that I wear a black suit," you reply, touching one hand to your chest and the black suit-jacket covering it, "no."
It's not even a lie. Ambrose's speculation that the delinquint in question had one too many run-ins with the Shinigami was just that - speculation. You have no proof either way, and hence, do not truly know what happened to Toshi.
The leader sighs, but seems convinced by your act. "Alright. Sorry to be pushy, but-"
"No need to apologize," you say. "It's your friend, you had to ask. I understand."
The thug nods, visibly pleased by your understanding. "So, about those directions; where were you trying to go?"
You quickly make up a destination, and the gang leader just as quickly tells you how to get there from the park, speaking clearly and concisely. You thank him, wish him and his companions a good day - and get a couple of rusty bows and semi-friendly responses in turn - and then move along.
"We're just letting him GO?" Hachi exclaims as you walk away. "Bro, what about Toshi? He's gotta know something!"
The leader sighs again, with a completely different note than before. "Hachi, the American seems to know less about what's going on than you do, which is SAYING something."
There are a couple of snickers.
"Aw, bro, why you gotta be like that?"
Then you've moved off far enough that you lose track of the thugs.
"So what brought THAT on?" Briar wonders.
You follow Thug Boss's directions for a bit, until you pass another park. This one's empty, and you quickly enter, hide yourself among a small stand of trees, and start casting the Spell of Teleportation to return home.
You can't go around wiping people's memories for every little nuisance.
"Well, no," you correct yourself. "I COULD do that, but I don't think I SHOULD. It's lazy, it's kind of cruel, and let's face it; sooner or later, it'd come back to haunt me."
"Yeah, a couple of those guys were showing signs that your last enchantment wasn't completely effective," Briar agrees. "Maybe it's all the spirit energy around here?"
You suppose that's possible. Akkiko did mention once that Shinigami memory erasure doesn't work on people who have a sufficiently high level of spiritual energy, and while you've never heard of that particular trait being an issue for Enchantment Magic, there are plenty of cautionary tales about charmed, controlled, or merely influenced minds abruptly coming back to themselves and making life difficult - and, not infrequently, very short - for whoever messed with their heads.
It's not surprising, when you stop and think about it. The brain is a complex thing, and even the most skilled and powerful enchanters aren't neurologists. Even beyond that, you know from personal experience that memories can be impressed upon the soul, and that's the domain of Necromancy, not Enchantment.
Regardless, dropping mind-altering magic to cover up every little inconvenience is something you're not inclined to do. Sure, if somebody sees something they really shouldn't, or that they can't deal with, you'll gladly break out the Enchantment Magic in favor of some of the alternatives. Just not for the trivial stuff.
That decided, you depart Karakura for the old gas station outside Sunnydale, where you quickly make sure nobody's around before ducking inside to change out of your Spidersilk Suit, cancel the Spell of the Threefold Aspect and the other spells you have going-
-and then put your regular clothes back on and head home.
After a late supper, you spend part of the evening playing with Zelda. Once she's gone to bed, you pass a couple of hours down in your Mirror Hideaway with Batreaux, reviewing theory and testing out the spells you hope to master before the Invasion of Silbern. Then it's a couple more hours of reading before you call it a night, enough to polish off a couple chapters of Twentieth Century Sorcery, Volume Four.
The next morning, after practice and breakfast, you head out to drop off the planar keys Navi gave you to pass on to Balthazar and Ambrose. As you're leaving Sunnydale, you consider which destination to visit first. It's a little after seven in California, making it ten o'clock or so in New York and three in the afternoon in Wales, so the time zones aren't a big issue for once. You're leaning towards checking in with the wizard and the Drakes first, though, mostly because you don't have anything you urgently need to discuss with them aside from the Quincy affair; it's still a couple of weeks before Mr. Pritchard's estimated date of entry into the Memorian Ruins. Barring any sudden developments, you'd be able to keep the visit short and move straight on to New York, where you could look in on the Archers, were you so inclined.
Except for Mind Blank. You don't want the locals to detect you, either!
The thing about defensive spells is that simply knowing them is not enough; you need them to be active BEFORE you run into the threat they're meant to shield you from, or else they do you no good. And since you can't predict when any given unfriendly force is going to try and read or control your mind or scry on you from afar, you kind of have to assume that it could happen at any moment - in which case, you need to have the spell meant to prevent such things running at all times.
Granted, running around Sunnydale with the Spell of Mind Blank going twenty-four/seven has the potential to cause problems, depending on who and what tries to look at you. But there are much less powerful spells that can bestow similar protection against unwanted Divination Magic, they're just not nigh-infalliable and inherently long-lasting.
And really, which is going to seem more likely for a nine-year-old sorcerer to know? The eighth-circle Spell of Mind Blank, normally found only in the repertoires of master sorcerers, archmages, and grand witches? Or the third-circle Spells of Nondetection, known by most reasonably skilled practitioners with a mind for privacy, across a wide range of magical styles?
Best to get the trip to the United Kingdom out of the way first, you think. That way, you're much less likely to intrude on the Drakes at dinner, and afterwards, you'll be free and clear to spend as much time in New York as you need to.
Half an hour and a remarkably quiet flash of green later, you're walking up to the gate of the Drake Estate. A couple of the guards on duty recognize you, nodding briefly and inquiring as to the nature of your visit.
"I have a couple of things to drop off for the wizard," you reply.
"Slimy, sticky, irritant, vicious, poisoned, explosive, and/or cursed?" one of the men asks in that bored tone people sometimes use when reciting lists.
"...none of the above?" you venture after a moment. "Is... does that come up a lot?"
The man's only reply is a wry, weary look.
"...Ambrose," you conclude.
"Ambrose," the guard agrees.
Then he brings up that sensor-wand that seems to be part of the standard security routine for unannounced visitors, and waves it over you. There isn't a complete lack of response, but it's a mere blip of light and sound compared to the vivid reaction this same device has had to your magic before. You're reminded keenly of Urahara's gadgets the previous day, and how their supernaturally enhanced sensors couldn't pick you up, either.
Part of you is pleased by this further evidence of the efficacy of your Abjuration Magic, but a greater part sighs in realization of the complicating factor.
"I should probably mention that I'm using the Spell of Mind Blank now, shouldn't I?"
"It's helpful," the guard with the wand admits, as he tucks the device away and gets out his radio.
One of the guards, who isn't familiar to you and looks a bit younger than the rest, frowns. "'Mind Blank,'" he repeats. "I feel like I should recognize that name."
"Check the manual again, rookie," someone advises.
You offer to end your spell, but the guards wave that off, saying that they appreciate the offer, but have a procedure in place for this sort of situation that doesn't require you to compromise your own security.
After you've spent about three minutes cooling your heels outside the gate, you catch a pulse of Summoning Magic from behind the gatehouse, and a moment later, Ambrose steps into view.
"Right, where's the fire?"
On cue, you wave.
The wizard regards you keenly for a moment, and then turns to the guard. "Null reading?"
The guard nods.
Ambrose looks at you. "Nondetection, or Mind Blank?"
"Mind Blank," you reply.
"A good choice, when you can get it." Ambrose folds his arms and hums in thought for a moment, then asks, "What was my reaction when you told me you'd summoned a Heroic Spirit without actually intending to?"
You think back. "You tried to make off with Akkiko's sake jug." And then, in the spirit of the moment, you return: "What's my totem?"
"The biggest, meanest pig since Twrch Trywth," comes the answer. Leaving you puzzled as to who or what that is, Ambrose addresses the guards again, saying, "I'm convinced. I'll take responsibility for him."
With that, you are free to enter.
Aside from handing over the planar keys - and, so Ambrose informs you, getting read into a series of passwords used to handle cases of friendly magic-users who go about with sensor-defeating Abjurations - is there anything else you want to do while you're here?
The first thing you do after passing through the gate is to hand over the planar keys, showing Ambrose which is which. Then, as the two of you enter the small car that will drive you up to the house, you quietly inquire of the wizard if there's been any progress on the Mother Brain issue.
"Not since the last time you asked," he replies. "Between paying back the favors I called in to get at the Association's records on the Grail War, preparing for the imminent war in the spirit world, and my regular duties, I've been a bit pressed for time. I did manage to have that talk with our alien ex-parrot, and we discussed possible options, but weren't able to reach a mutually satisfactory decision."
"What sort of options?"
"Various forms of Enchantment were discussed," the wizard admits. "Everything from charm spells and hypnotic suggestions to geasa, memory wipes, and mind control. I got a fascinating conversation about the ethics, morality, and acceptable usage of mind-affecting effects out of that; did you know that your phantom feathered friend's people had put themselves under the equivalent of a geas to refrain from violence?"
You were not aware of that, no.
"Well, they did. Something about atoning for a history of unnecessary aggression." Ambrose shrugs. "Seemed a bit excessive to me, particularly with there being so many backsides in need of kicking on this world alone, but then, what do I know about alien instincts and cultural imperatives? The human ones are enough of a hassle to be getting on with."
Leaving that aside, Ambrose elaborates that Grey Voice didn't think Enchantment Magic would be a viable long-term solution to the problem. After all, in her first incarnation, Mother managed to overcome a number of safeguards that SHOULD have prevented her lunatic ambitions, much less her turning on her creators. Some of those were just programming, but some were literally built into her systems; removing them would have been the equivalent of self-administered brain surgery.
The kind of mind that could find the resolve to attempt such a course of action would have little trouble throwing off or powering through most forms of Enchantment. And when compared to operating on your own brain, even breaking a geas would be... not a trivial matter, exactly, but distinctly less hazardous.
"Making it stick would require rendering the woman a psychic null," Ambrose notes sourly, "and there are only a few ways to really do that: keep her under an antimagic field; transform her into something that lacks psychic capabilities; or physically alter her brain to remove the powers."
You wince at those last two options. The first would basically be the classic "turn them into a frog" trick of fairy tale villains everywhere, and while you don't THINK Ganondorf ever resorted to that - at least not intentionally, there's a vague recollection of the Dark World enforcing strange transformations on people who entered it without protection - you do know he was versed in spells of the Polymorph Sub-School. It's an option you'd prefer to avoid for that reason alone, even before getting into the associated death of personality. The latter option, meanwhile, is talking about brain surgery again, which... no. Just... no.
That leaves...
"Antimagic Field is a sixth-circle spell," you observe, going over the variables. "And given the baseline duration is normally two hours..."
"Making it last longer than a few days would require tenth-circle magic, at minimum," Ambrose concludes. "And that's not a level of effort I can pull off casually these days, much less without nosy Powers taking notice."
You wince. Yeah, that's... impractical, at best. You're confident in your abilities, and you have every intention of putting in the work necessary to get your mastery of Abjuration Magic - of all your magic - to that level eventually. Key word being "eventually." Right now, you're capped at eighth-circle - ninth, if you resort to a ritual, which you certainly would in this matter, if it would help. But it won't, and it'll be a few more years before you can access tenth-circle Abjuration Magic even with that extra boost.
Working the effect into a magic item would be possible, if expensive and time-consuming, but items can be broken or removed. They can usually be suppressed, too, but the Spell to Dispel Magic doesn't normally affect an Antimagic Field, and you're not quite sure how the magics would interact if the latter effect was being produced by a magic item instead of a standalone spell.
Ambrose also notes that a binding like the one he placed on you would be about as useful in this situation - which is to say, not at all - and for much the same reason. Psychic powers are, if anything, even more self-contained than Hyrulean sorcery, with the vast majority of applications requiring nothing in the way of material reagents or focuses, and suffering no loss of power or efficiency for their absence. Technological ability wouldn't be impeded that way, either.
The wizard finishes this part of the discussion off by mentioning that the contact he had looking into Mother's reincarnation is still keeping an eye on the woman, from a distance, and hasn't signaled for help, dropped off the map, or otherwise tripped any alarms.
Situation normal, then?
"As normal as can be when talking about the human reincarnation of a sentient, cybernetic, psychically active alien supercomputer," Ambrose says dryly.
Yeah, things are weird all over.
Given Grey Voice's account of Mother's actions in her previous life and her current life's retention of at least some knowledge of his race's technology, you can intellectually understand why Ambrose has been looking into magical methods of restraint, coercion, and outright control for dealing with the reincarnated biological supercomputer from another world.
But even if the wizard hadn't brought up that binding spell, the similarities between his actions at the conclusion of your first meeting and his approach to this new potential problem are pronounced enough to make you uncomfortable. You can't help but wonder if Ambrose isn't jumping the gun, again, and if his approach isn't going to create more problems than it solves.
As you exit the car, you decide to voice your concerns, reminding Ambrose of his miscalculation when he tried to seal your magic back at the World Tournament, and how easily that could have blown up in his face.
Literally, even.
"I know it might seem unlikely, given how impressed I am with my own cleverness, lad," the wizard says wryly, "but I am capable of learning from my mistakes. That aside, it's actually helpful that we're dealing with a budding psychic here, instead of a magic-user. I've had enough bad experiences with two-bit sorcerers, warlocks, and dark witches under my belt that 'bind first, ask questions later' has become a habit - and to be frank, one that's saved more lives than it's inconvenienced over the years. Psychics, on the other hand, are rather thin on the ground compared to spellcasters - powerful ones even more so. I don't have much experience with them at all, bad or otherwise, and that means I don't have a standard response worked out for them already."
Good to know. But on that note... "Have you considered whether Mother would actually BE dangerous if someone just... went up and talked to her?"
"That's actually Plan A For When We Deal With Her," Ambrose says, nodding. "But the ghost-bird and I both agreed it would be best to have Plans B through Z worked out ahead of time and ready to go, just in case the peaceful approach doesn't work. Also, I'm trying to get a better idea of how developed this woman's abilities are, and what it would take to shield against them without turning whoever goes to speak with her into an impenetrable mental fortress." His expression turns wry. "What experience I do have with psychics is plenty to say that it's hard to convince them that you come in peace when you're under a Spell of Mind Blank or the like."
...okay, that's a point you hadn't considered. You managed to spook a couple of Shinigami testing Mind Blank out yesterday, and while the spell wouldn't make you immune to telepathy, the increased resistance to mind-affecting effects would still be suspicious - and psychic clairvoyance would be no-sold just like its magical counterpart.
Your thoughts on this topic are interrupted as you hear footfalls coming from up ahead - some the click of high heels beneath a determined stride, others the sound of dress shoes under a greater weight. You look down the hall in time to see Arthur and Lucia Drake round the far corner with a few servants in tow. Just pulling on a jacket, the lord of the manor seems to be in the middle of preparing to leave, while his wife is quietly but energetically discussing something with a valet carrying a mid-sized suitcase in each hand. The other member of the group is a lady in a business-like jacket and calf-length pencil skirt, reading off of a personal digital assistant to Lord Drake, and making notes as he replies to her. Bringing up the rear are two of the more nondescript security personnel, both above-average in height and bulk.
Seeing the oncoming crowd, Ambrose smoothly shifts closer to one of the walls, a hand on your shoulder guiding you to follow him.
"Where's the fire, Arthur?" the wizard calls out.
"Rome," Altria's father grumbles.
"...ah, bugger. The Vatican?"
"Oh, if only." Turning to you, Arthur says, "Hello, Alex. Have you turned over another emergency somewhere? Another Dark Lord's resurrection I can get in on, maybe?"
...okay. Eagerness, you'd understand - knights are kind of fight-happy - but there's a note of something approaching desperation in Arthur's tone that has you worried about his question.
"Um, not today," you begin guardedly. "Why, what's going on in Rome?"
"The horrible, controlling, self-centered, meddling old hag that I have the great misfortune to call my mother is being herself," Lucia says heatedly. "Again."
...ouch.
You know almost nothing about Lucia's mother, save that she apparently preferred some Italian gentleman to be her daughter's husband over a Welsh knight, and wasn't best pleased when Lucia married Arthur regardless of her wishes. Adding in what you're seeing and hearing here and now, and what it implies about the relationship between mother and daughter and the dynamics between in-laws... well, you figure the least you can do is to give Arthur an out of an unpleasant situation. Whether he takes it or not is entirely up to him, but you'll feel better for having made the offer.
Besides, you kind of want to see the looks on their faces when you say it.
"So, about that Dark Lord's resurrection? If you're interested, I actually DO know of one that's coming up this weekend..."
"What was that?" Mr. and Mrs. Drake say in unison, stopping in their tracks to give you remarkably similar looks of surprise.
"Okay, he's not TECHNICALLY a Dark Lord," you admit. "At least, I don't think so..."
Ambrose sighs. "You're really going to do this, lad?"
"Is there a reason why I shouldn't?" you ask. "Honestly, I'm kind of surprised you haven't told them about it already."
Heads turn to the wizard. For a moment, you think one of Altria's parents is going to say something, but then Lucia taps her husband on the arm and, when he looks her way, shakes her head and gestures at the help.
Arthur blinks and then sends the staff on ahead, with orders to the guards to, "Bring the car around."
Once the help have disappeared down the hall - or at least moved off far enough to be politely out of eavesdropping range, in the assistant's case - Arthur turns to Ambrose.
"What do you know?"
Ambrose takes a breath. "In short, the semi-mortal, potentially divine overlord of a dead empire is about to wake up from a thousand-year coma, eat the souls of a thousand of his followers' distant descendants in order to strengthen himself, and then gear up for a war with the Japanese psychopomps for control over a chunk of the afterlife."
There's a beat.
Lucia turns to you, frowning. "You say he's technically NOT a Dark Lord?"
"He's not a monster in the biological sense," you clarify. "I'm not sure if humans can legitimately hold the title."
"Ah."
"The boy stumbled upon the whole mess not too long after that party of his," Ambrose continues. "He brought it to the attention of the most directly involved parties, then came to Balthazar and I for advice and assistance, which we have been providing and preparing accordingly."
"And you didn't think to bring it up before now?" the knight asks mildly.
"As terrible as the matter has the potential to be, it doesn't involve any of Her Majesty's subjects, nor is it taking place in her jurisdiction; that officially makes it not your problem. On top of that, those psychopomps I mentioned are institutionally opposed to allowing living humans knowledge of or input into the affairs of the spirit world. They're going to be tetchy enough about those of us already slated to show up; if we try bringing more people in on it, the friction will only increase."
Arthur frowns, but doesn't seem to have a good response for that.
Ambrose, meanwhile, isn't quite done yet. "I will admit, if I'd known Donna Julia was going to make a nuisance of herself so close to the incident, I probably WOULD have brought you up to speed sooner, if only for the chance to see the look on her face when you told her to bugger off because you had more important things to do." Ambrose shakes his head. "But that woman's about as predictable as the weather in London, and you DID tell me not to cast spells in her general direction."
"A decision I still stand by," Lucia notes. "Other people deal with their frustrating parents and in-laws without resorting to magic-"
"Other people aren't related to your mother," Arthur mutters.
"-and we can do so just as well, if not better," the lady continues. "Also, as long as we refrain from such behavior, that's leverage I can use to shame her into not doing the same thing to us."
"I was under the impression that woman HAD no shame," Ambrose says dryly. "And I like to think I'm an expert on the subject."
"Much as it sometimes pains me to admit it, I am her daughter," Lucia declares. "I know her weaknesses, and am better-placed to exploit them than almost anyone else."
"I bow to the mistress." And Ambrose does just that, before turning to Arthur again. "Getting back on topic, it really is too late in this particular game for you to be throwing your helmet in the ring, Arthur - and more to the point, I think doing so would be inviting more attention down on all of us than we either want or need."
"But you're still going." Arthur... doesn't quite sulk when he says that.
"Wizard," Ambrose retorts smugly. "The reapers will grumble about meddling spellcasters poking their noses into things Man Was Not Meant To Know, but at the end of the day, I'm a known factor - maybe not a familiar one, I'm hardly an onmyouji, but they can at least fit me into their worldview. If they find out that there are mystically empowered European knights running around smiting evil that includes the occasional restless ghost, WITH officially unofficial ties to the government, they might take it badly."
Arthur's not-sulk intensifies, but he nods. Turning back to you, the man says, "Thank you for the offer, Alex, but I will have to decline."
You nod.
"And now, if you'll excuse me..."
And with a quick hug for his wife and a final annoyed glance at Ambrose, Arthur Drake is off.
Lucia waits until her husband is out of earshot before turning to you. "I can't help but notice that you didn't say what part YOU are playing in this latest fracas, Alexander. I do hope you aren't taking too many cues from this old reprobate."
"Hey!" Ambrose protests. "He's the one who brought ME into it!"
You assure Lucia that you're taking numerous precautions, not the least of which is your shiny new Spell of Mind Blank.
This admission sends Lucia's delicately plucked eyebrows climbing towards her hairline, but you're already explaining about the "friendly" Shinigami you've met in Japan, and how the testing was a mix of seeing how well you could sneak up on them and actual scientific investigation.
As an aside, you mention some of Urahara's results - or lack thereof - to Ambrose.
After her initial surprise subsides, Lucia seems mostly reassured by the information. It helps that you admit you're planning NOT to get directly involved with the Shinigami or their operation to subjugate Yhwach and his cronies, and will instead be hiding away some of the people who are under threat from the Sealed King's judgment.
That, incidentally, leads you to ask Ambrose to clarify his remark to Arthur about none of the Queen's subjects being in danger.
"How sure of that are you?"
"Within the British Isles? Extremely," the wizard replies. "There are no Quincy currently living in Great Britain or Ireland, and there haven't been for quite some time. The Mages' Association made sure of that. I conducted some Divinations just to be sure, and did a few more regarding the Overseas Territories. I didn't get any indications there were Quincy living in any of them, or at least none that weren't directly affiliated with the Wandenreich."
You wince at that. From what little you know of Yhwach, it seems likely that if he wakes up and can't find enough "expendable" Quincy to fully empower himself, he'll start going after Wandenreich loyalists to make up the difference. That sucks, but there's really nothing you can do about it; dealing with the Hidden Empire sympathizers in the Ishida and Archer families is going to be taking enough of a risk as is.
Speaking of whom, you should be getting on with your business. You let Lucia know that you're not planning on staying long, and are really only here today to speak with Ambrose; the lady of the house nods and excuses herself, albeit with a final remark that she wants your opinion on Altria's new dress before you leave.
As the woman walks off, you turn to Ambrose. "What's this about a 'new dress,' and why am I getting dragged into?"
"Remember those fancy silks your Goddesses handed out?" Ambrose asks. "Lucia used the red one to make a dress for herself, mostly to get used to the material, then put together a green gown for Anna..."
"...leaving the blue for Altria," you conclude. Then, based on your own modest experience with tailoring, you add, "Three dresses in two months? Isn't that a little fast?"
"That woman is a demon with needle and thread."
You can't quite get the image of Lucia working with mana-enhanced sewing techniques out of your head after that.
Trying to shake that line of thought, you inquire of Ambrose if he's been able to pencil in a time for that enthusiastic visit to a certain family of German magi that was being discussed, or if all the recent business has delayed that, too.
"The latter, regrettably," the wizard sighs. "Silver linings, though."
Oh?
He nods. "I'm taking a small army of Simulacra into the siege and sack of a mystical fortress. Seeing how well they perform against people who can throw down with the little death gods and have had a thousand years to prepare their defenses will provide a lot of useful data for refining the designs." And then Ambrose grins. "Even if it turns out that I can't actually match the parameters of proper Servants, the idea of knocking on Acht's door with the rough equivalent of a Grail War roster in my wake is still an appealing one."
...
...yeah, you can see it.
Although there is a certain temptation to ask Ambrose if you could see his creations early, under controlled circumstances that would allow you to offer a thorough "peer review" - and take the most detailed notes for your own work - you decide not to make the request.
For one thing, you don't actually know the Spell to Create a Simulacrum yet, not even its Lesser version. You DO know the Spell to Create a Twine Double, but for all its similarities, that one has significant differences as well - and more to the point, you've not used it outside of periodic practice. That was Shadow Alex's thing that kind of didn't actually happen and which you don't have proper memories of or experience with, and you've been reluctant to start down the path that he was following. Or represents. Or both.
Shadow Magic is confusing.
The point is, you're not really in a position to be critiquing somebody else's use of a spell you've never cast.
Also, Ambrose has been a little sulky when you've looked at his works in the past and gleaned more of their inner workings than he expected or intended you to. You'd rather not have to deal with a pouting wizard.
And finally, there's also the fact that not knowing exactly what Ambrose's Simulacra Squad looks like or can do will add an element of genuine surprise to Shadow Alex's reaction when the wizard unveils his creations in the field, making it look like the two of them aren't that closely affiliated. It might ease the concerns of the Shinigami a bit if they see a couple of powerful but largely independent mortal magic-users who just happen to have a mutual interest, rather than a truly unified front.
Your pace during all of this has been good enough to bring the three of you to Ambrose's workshop, and as you look around at the odds and ends inside, you're reminded of another matter you wanted to discuss.
"Hey, Ambrose?"
"Yes, lad?"
"You ever heard of something called an 'island turtle'?"
"Ah, the Aspidochelone! One of the largest and longest-lived of the world's magical creatures, and among the least offensive specimens within that category, unless you happen to be a tropical island in the path of a hungry one." The wizard pauses to consider his own words for a moment. "Oh, dear. Is Bali Ha'i-?"
"The island's fine, Briar and I spotted the turtle coming and were able to head him off." You summarize your encounter with Ghido, and then ask Ambrose if he's aware of any opportunities that being on good terms with an island turtle might open up.
"Your friend the fishy priestess already took advantage of the big one, going off and talking with him like that," Ambrose replies. "I can think of a few sages who'd eat their own livers out of sheer envy over that."
...okay, ew.
"Philosophy aside, though... hmmm, where did I put that bestiary...?"
Ambrose searches through his library for a few minutes, pulling a book off the shelf here, sending a loose tome flying across the room to its place there, and at one point getting attacked by a flying grimoire that doesn't appear to appreciate having been left out on a table with its pages open.
Eventually, the wizard returns with a book almost as big as you are, which he carries with an ease that would betray some manner of weight-affecting enchantment even if the cover didn't radiate a minor aura of Augmentation Magic. Setting this down on a handy lectern, Ambrose opens the book and quickly pages through it to an entry on island turtles.
"Island turtles are sufficiently rare and difficult to find that there hasn't been a lot of reliable investigation into the properties of their various symbiotic and parasitic organisms, let alone their actual bodies," the wizard notes. "When something that big breathes its last breath, it tends to sink to the bottom in short order. Still, there have been a few successful attempts... ah, we are. 'Nurtured by the creature's powerful life-force and exposed to a wide array of climates, the amphibious plant species commonly found growing on an island turtle's shell exhibit fascinating properties...'"
Trimming down the magibotanical and -zoological speak, island turtles are indeed a potential source of useful reagents, particularly if you're a sea mage or otherwise working with spells and enchantments that involve the ocean or its creatures. Outside of niche applications like potions of water-breathing, spells to allow merfolk to walk on land, and other sorts of climatic adaptation, however, most of the materials that can be gleaned from an island turtle's back aren't so good at what they do as to make them worth the incredible hassle of harvesting them. Certainly, there are other substances capable of doing the same jobs which are available in far greater abundance, and which don't require one to hunt down a moving island that may or may not be submerged.
On the other hand, most people can't reliably teleport as far as you can - and most of those who have the ability have likely never seen an island turtle in their lives. So you and Ambrose might be able to reach a more practical arrangement with Ghido than most; you suspect he wouldn't turn down being paid with food, which is pretty easy for you to manage, even in the ridiculous quantities involved.
There are also unsubstantiated theories about the uses that various body parts of an island turtle itself might be put to. Their shells, for example, would likely make outstanding material for armor, and one school of thought holds that, since island turtles possess such incredible longevity - into the thousands of years - their blood should be tremendously effective if applied to various life-extension magics. But all such theories are just that - theories - as if the number of people who've seen an island turtle is vanishingly small, the number who've seen a DEAD one is downright infinitesimal.
You make a few notes on the more interesting specimens that you could negotiate with Ghido for at a later date, after which Ambrose closes the bestiary and the two of you head to his spellcasting chamber to give the planar keys a test-drive.
Ambrose's investigation of the two planar keys and the demiplanes they're attuned to is pretty straightforward. It helps that there isn't a whole lot to see on either plane, and that Ambrose is a high-level wizard who you know has prior experience with both planar travel and fairies; odds are that nothing he's seeing here is truly new to him.
Not that this stops him from bringing along a few arcane gadgets of his own and waving them around for a bit, but his reactions to the data thus acquired are more subdued than Urahara's investigatory delight.
After about half an hour of that, you return to the Drake estate to carry out your last errand here for the day: playing fashion consultant.
"You couldn't have snuck out after your business was finished?" Altria sighs.
"Nice to see you, too, Altria," you reply with amusement, "and I doubt it. Knowing your mother, the guards and servants probably had instructions to direct me here."
"Such distrust!" Lucia exclaims in dismay.
"That's not a denial," you point out.
"Well, you weren't wrong," Lucia admits. "But still! So suspicious!"
Mother drags daughter off, leaving you and Briar to cool your heels for about ten minutes. Ambrose stayed in his lab, Anna is evidently out with friends, and of course you already know what happened to Arthur. None of the extended family or friends that you've met are visiting today.
Fortunately, the little Remlit that Altria won in the Ring of Trials doesn't object to playing with you. Yvain has visibly grown over the last month and a half, but she's still distinctly kittenish in appearance and behavior, saying "hello" by enthusiastically pouncing on your feet and tumbling over her own grey paws. The maid left to attend to you produces a long feather from somewhere and hands it over, which results in several minutes of entertainment for all parties.
"Has she tried flying yet?" Briar wonders from her spot on your shoulder. There is a certain degree of caution in her words, and when you consider the scenario of a flying feline in relation to Briar's feelings about cats... yeah, it makes sense.
When the maid doesn't respond, you pass on your partner's inquiry.
By way of an answer, you receive a startled blink. "She can fly?"
...did you forget to pass that on? But yes, according to Briar and Batreaux, Remlits can fly for short periods by flapping their ears, something they mostly do to supplement their pouncing and climbing abilities, or to catch themselves if they take a tumble from a dangerous height. Your MASTER IN DARKEST SORCERY has told you that the species lived on the flying continent of Skyloft, during the long-lost Age of the Sky, when the ability to fly was kind of important for long-term survival.
That didn't explain how the Hylians managed it...
The maid, meanwhile, is regarding Yvain in a new light. "It would explain how she keeps getting into such high places..."
The Remlit returns the attention with a blue-eyed blink and a chirrup of interest.
Then the door opens-
"Behold!" Lucia declares grandly, ushering her daughter-slash-dress-up doll into the room.
My, my. What are the odds?
-and Yvain promptly loses interest in anybody except her mistress, eyes widening and tail starting to twitch with excitement.
Altria's new dress consists of two major pieces. The main garment is a fairly minimalist white ball gown, with an ankle-length skirt trimmed with gold, but worn over that is a blue garment that seems to be half-dress and half-coat, with a raised collar, full-length sleeves, oddly puffy shoulders, and a gap down the middle between collar and waist that leaves part of the white gown exposed. The over-garment is tied across the lower chest several times, while below the waist, it splits again, adding a layer of gold-lined blue to the dress skirt.
Altria still has her hair up in her usual style, but a blue ribbon cut from the same Hylian silk as the outer portion of her dress has been pressed upon her. She looks halfway between a scowl and a blush, and decidedly more girly than you're used to seeing her.
You offer up an earnest compliment, before asking the important questions: "But can you dance in it, and can you FIGHT in it?"
In an eerie reflection of one another, mother and daughter pause, blink at you, and then look down at the wide skirt thoughtfully.
"Dancing will be fine, once you get used to the sweep of the skirt," Lucia muses absently. "Fighting, though... hmmm..."
"You did mention the material was remarkably resilient," Altria notes.
"I did, and it is," her mother agrees. "But there's a difference between 'this won't tear easily if it catches on something' and 'this won't damage easily if someone takes a blade or magical fire to it.'"
"Ambrose?" Altria offers.
Lucia frowns, looking torn at the suggestion. On the one hand, a classy combat skirt; on the other, allowing the wizard to meddle with one of her creations.
Decisions, decisions.
For your part, you wonder if you should offer your assistance in the matter. In your favor, you're not Ambrose, and you're perfectly capable of applying the comparatively minor enhancements necessary to make Altria's new dress into combat attire - it'd be like a lighter version of your Warmage's Robe, minus the armored inserts.
Against that, your schedule is kind of packed for the foreseeable future: Auswahlen this weekend and the immediate fallout for the next week or so after that; the unsealing and exploration of the Memorian Base sometime in the week after that, which could easily turn into an extended operation; Zelda's enchanted kung fu gi needs to be ready by her birthday in August; and you still owe Briar a floating comfy chair. Taken together, all of those might create more of a delay than Lucia or Altria really want to deal with. Kahlua's birthday is coming up, and if there was ever a time and place for Lucia to unveil one of her creations - and for it to need to be wearable under fire - that would be it.
And speaking of Kahlua, you're already gradually kitting out one of your female friends. Part of you thinks it would not be wise to offer a similar service to another friend, particularly when the two of them have a family history between them of parents trying to kill each other - even if it was entirely professional.
Conversely, your work with the Warrior-Princess Bracers and Gauntlets just proves that you have some talent for this sort of thing. It'd be a shame not to take advantage of that.
With that matter taken care of, you spend a little time just talking with Altria, mostly passing on the information about Remlits that you hadn't realized you'd neglected to all this time.
"So THAT's how she keeps getting up so high," your friend says bemusedly. "I'd wondered. I know some cats like to climb, but there never seemed to be enough claw marks on the furniture or drapes..."
Nothing ventured, nothing gained, you suppose. You go ahead and make the offer, letting the ladies know that it might take you a while to get the job done, given prior committments.
"How well do you know your way around a needle and thread?" Lucia inquires.
"I normally use magic for that sort of thing-"
Lucia frowns slightly.
"-but," you quickly add, "I have gotten in some practice at doing the work by hand, and I've studied the webs of several different types of spider as well, to get a better idea of how Nature does it. I even managed to get tips from a couple of intelligent spider Fae-"
"-which reminds me of something I'd like to talk about later," you note, holding up a finger. "But for the moment..."
You reach into your dimensional pocket and get out your Spider-Silk Suits and Warmage's Robe. Lucia has seen most of them before, of course, but has not had the opportunity to do a close inspection, an oversight she makes up for now.
When she inquires if you've done other work, the only items that come to mind are the Restful Blankets, which you don't habitually carry around with you. You say you'll bring one along the next time you swing by, and Lucia requests that you bring an example of something more recently made as well - not necessarily enchanted, just something you've woven, knitted, or otherwise threaded together, so she can get a better idea of how your skill has (or hasn't) developed since you worked on these other projects.
You can throw together a conjured outfit in about ten minutes, so that's no great hardship, but do you want to try sewing something by hand as well, just to see how your mundane tailoring skill stacks up to the magically assisted version?
With your offer on hold for the time being, you take back your works from Lucia, pocket them, and dig out a few carefully folded-up pieces of silk clothing and a section of webbing in their place.
"One of those Fae I mentioned was open to the idea of doing work on commission, assuming I could find anyone who was interested." Handing the items over to Lucia, you ask, "What do you think?"
Lucia does not reply right away, turning the roughly dishtowel-sized section of web over in her hands a couple of times as she just gets a feel for the material. Then she turns her attention to the shirt, slip, and leggings that Liantiel wove up as examples of her craft for you to show off to potential buyers.
"Interesting," the lady muses. "Good material, designs that are simple overall, but classically so - I like this touch with the web patterns," she adds, pointing out the decorative flourish along the neck, sleeves, and hems of the skirt and shirt. "You say this was made by a Fae spider?"
You nod. "If you'd like, I could arrange for the two of you to meet in person. Not today," you admit. "Again, maybe not for a while."
"I would be interested, when you find you have the time," Lucia says firmly, handing back Liantiel's samples. "Perhaps more so in acquiring a supply of raw silk for my own projects, but we shall see what comes of it."
You take the clothes and web and tuck them away again. That's one potential client netted.
If you're going to get seriously involved in outfitting your friends and family with enchanted clothes and accessories, honing your mundane sewing skill will only make the end products that much better. When it comes to imbuing magic into finished items, raw material value isn't the be-all end-all; poorly measured cuts and sloppy stitching can turn even high-quality silk into a worthless pile of scraps, whereas a master can turn common cloth into a piece fit for a prince. And when it comes to the question of using store-bought or hand-made items (or spell-made), there's no comparision; knowing every seam and stitch of a completed garment as only its maker can would let you fine-tune the magic you imbue into it, "tailoring" each enhancement specifically for the outfit in question and the intended wearer.
So, yeah, once you've cleared some of the outstanding issues from your schedule, you think you can find the time to brush up on your tailoring technique. At the very least, it'll let you put some of the stuff you've been reading about in Weave of Magic into practice...
"Umu!" Lucia declares with approval.
Altria looks like she's seen the future, and it is full of fancy dresses.
Perhaps a quarter of an hour on from there, the green-lit silver of the Astral Plane fades from your vision, replaced by the alley across from the Arcana Cabana. It's getting on towards eleven-thirty a.m., local time, so while you've beat the main body of the daily lunch rush, there is a certain amount of increased traffic on the street before you, as various working sorts head out early to grab seats and/or pick up orders from their preferred restaurants.
Dodging pedestrians - some of whom give your nine-going-on-twelve person startled looks or short complaints to watch where you're going - and minding the vehicular traffic, you cross the street and enter Balthazar's shop.
"Hello," a familiar young voice greets you, with the depressed tone of the retail damned, "and welcome to the Arcana Cabana, home of- oh, hey, Alex! Briar!"
"Hello, Dave," you greet your fellow sorcerer.
"Hi!" Briar calls, waving.
"I see Balthazar is milking that master-apprentice contract for all it's worth," you note lightly.
"Ugh," Dave replies. "He's got me in here four hours a day, five days a week, and he spends that time wandering in and out, watching over my shoulder, and dropping pop quizzes on magic."
"Case in point," the Merlinean Master says as he emerges from one of the aisles like a shadow taking on substance, causing Dave to start and you and Briar to just wave in acknowledgment, having sensed his approach, "what are the proper uses and telltale signs of the Spell of Mind Blank?"
"-gimme a heart attack, why don't you," Dave mutters, before frowning. "Wait, Mind Blank? Have we reviewed that one?"
"Evidently not," Balthazar sighs, "but Alex clearly has, assuming of course that is you under that mobile blank spot for Divination Magic."
"Wait, what?" Dave blurts out, looking at you with sudden worry. "What do you mean, blank- oh, no. No, no, no-"
Ah, there's the Mage Sight kicking in - or rather, not.
Once you talk Dave down from his impending panic attack, you bring out the planar keys and hand them over to Balthazar.
You aren't terribly surprised when he asks if you'd object to him using the opportunity to give Dave a lesson on demiplanes and planar travel.
You, of course, have no objections to that.
"Remember, young apprentice, that sorcery is a path to many abilities some consider to be... unnatural."
...okay, that's interesting.
Dave blinks at you, and then frowns. "Is... that a reference to something? 'Cause if it is, I don't recognize it."
How so?
You pause. "I'm... not quite sure where that came from, myself. It just... felt like the right thing to say."
The boy just paraphrased a line of dialogue from a show that hasn't even been written yet.
Well, that's not strange at all.
In other words, weird?
"How about we just ignore that and carry on as if it hadn't happened?" you offer, a little weirded out by the inner workings of your head.
It might be a side-effect of the state of the local space-time continuum, coupled with his abnormal proficiency in the School of Divination and developing psychic abilities...
"Deal," Dave agrees nervously. "But you still have to prove you're actually Alex, and not someone or something in an Alex-shaped suit."
Weeeeiiiirrrrd~!
You do not object to this display of healthy caution.
You are, perhaps, a bit eager to show off your new (temporary) demiplanes to people who can really appreciate them for what they are and the effort that went into creating and "paying" for them, and that energy makes its way into your suggestion that your fellow sorcerers join you on a jaunt to the pocket realms.
Balthazar considers it with a raised eyebrow, but then nods. "Why not? I don't have any scheduled appointments today, and business is pretty slow around lunch... Dave, go ahead and close up shop."
"On it!" the apprentice says, as he opens up part of the counter to step out.
As Dave heads over to lock the front door and put up the "Closed" sign, you turn to Balthazar and mention your recent mercantile endeavors in Faerie - Liantiel's silk products, those Hyrulean potions Vira has agreed to (eventually) make for you, even your acquisition of a certain giant dead snake - and ask if he'd be interested in stocking such things, if you could supply them, or even just buying a few for his own use.
"I might be interested in acquiring a few of those potions," Mr. Blake admits, after you've described their effects. "Reliable restoratives with that level of potency have been hard to come by for quite a while. As for spell components from Faerie, it would really depend on the quality of the materials involved, and how consistent the supply would be; I do have a couple of sources in that regard already."
On cue, you take out Liantiel's sample goods. The stuff from Alboa is going to have to wait until you get around to rendering the snake's corpse down to parts, which you and Robin will be doing a little later...
Balthazar looks the spider-woman's crafts over, but is clearly more interested in the raw spider-silk than the finished articles of clothing.
"Fashion isn't really my area of expertise," he says, gesturing around at the largely magical contents of the Arcana Cabana. "Unless she's capable of producing enchanted clothing?"
You wouldn't bet against it, but you have to admit, it wasn't something the two of you discussed, much less included in your tentative agreement.
Balthazar nods at that. "Better to let it go, then. Still, the silk is quite good quality; I could find buyers."
You make a note of that.
Dave, who didn't need that long to close up the store, is almost vibrating in place as he waits for you and his master to finish talking business.
"Are you done? Can we go?"
You've had certain ill-gotten gains burning a proverbial hole in your pocket since your encounter with the banaan. Nothing bad has yet resulted from your possession of the grimstalker's stolen gear, but that very fact just has you fearful that the other shoe is going to have all the more force behind it when it finally gets around to dropping.
It's with that concern in mind that you turn to your fellow underage kung fu sorcerer (in training) and state, "I'm sorry, Dave, I'm afraid I can't do that," in a dull, robotic tone.
Balthazar laughs softly.
"...okay, I missed that reference, too," Dave says after a moment.
"2001: A Space Odyssey," the Merlinean Master informs his student. "And I'm not surprised you haven't seen it; it came out in '68, and for all that it's science fiction, it's a long way from Star Wars."
In deference to Dave's impatience, you try to keep things brief. First, you mention that if Balthazar is interested in Hyrulean potions, you could potentially offer him the necessary reagents and recipes in the future.
"Provided they turn out to be what you're promising, I may just take you up on that," the senior sorcerer admits. "But one thing at a time, hm?"
Right. Leaving that aside, then, you get on with your most pressing concern, and explain how you came into ownership of a Fae-wrought bow, which you really can't afford to hold on to.
Balthazar's usual expression of wry amusement shifts to something more serious. "Got mixed up in Fae Court politics, did you?"
"Not YET," you emphasize, "and I'd really like to keep it that way."
Balthazar nods, and asks for a description of the item(s) in question.
You briefly recount your original plan to try disenchanting the magically enhanced items among your forcefully acquired goods, and how the fate of the Grimstalker's Sword led you to seek a more profitable means of disposal for the remainder. You note that you've already reached a deal with Briar's biggest brother regarding the Armor, which you'll be concluding later today, and that the Grimstalker's Poison Kit was - rather ironically - the least dangerous of all the items you picked up, to the point where you feel pretty safe keeping the stuff around, albeit in new and more secure containers than the banaan was using.
That brings you to the Bow. As you don't have it with you just now, you produce an illusory image of the weapon, trying to replicate even what you've sensed of its aura. You "hand" this manifestation of Illusion Magic over to Balthazar, who takes it and inspects it with a keen eye, measuring the length of the Bow, the light, artful decoration along the arms, and even assumes a rough but serviceable firing posture and draws the string.
"Not bad," he admits, before tossing the image back to you; you "catch" it, but then allow it to dissipate. "I'd want to see the actual thing before making any commitments, of course-"
Of course.
"-but even with the enhancements stripped away, I could certainly find buyers interested in genuine Fae craftsmanship."
You don't miss the implication: Balthazar believes he can disenchant the Grimstalker's Bow without damaging the bow itself. You'd very much like to see that done, but your businessman's instincts, honed over a couple of years' working with Gen, murmur a warning that such a request would almost certainly cost you, and reduce whatever financial profit you'd get out of this deal.
Basically, it's a question of what you want more: some extra cash and the trail of possession broken as soon as possible; or tips on how to break down enchantments.
"Would you mind if I sat in on the disenchantment?" you ask Balthazar. "Like I said, my own attempts didn't go so well, I could use the pointers."
"That's fine by me, as long as you're aware that it'll cost you."
You nod, having fully expected that. "Percentage of the value of the Bow?"
"Only if it's the value BEFORE disenchantment," Balthazar returns. "I am doing you a favor disposing of it."
"Yes, but you're also planning to re-sell it."
"But only the bow itself, not the enchantments - which are the most valuable portion."
"So valuable, in fact, that even a small percentage should pay for the cost of your services."
"Ah, but I have yet to see the actual merchandise. How can I be sure it's as valuable as you claim?"
"Why, Mr. Blake, are you suggesting that I'm attempting cheat you?"
"Not at all, Mr. Harris. I'm merely suggesting that you may not be fully aware of the realities of the magical market, especially for niche goods like Fae crafts."
"You guys sound like my Mom arguing with the vendors at the open market," David notes in dismay.
"It's called haggling, Dave," Balthazar says.
"It's the ancient and honored art of the Deal," you agree, before adding, "Although SOME people clearly honor it more than others..."
"The boy speaks of honor while trying to push his goods on me sight unseen!"
That goes on for a bit, and despite your best efforts, Balthazar stands by his refusal to give you a set price without first seeing the actual Bow. He does, however, note that his normal practice for magical items of "uncertain provenance" is to purchase them at half their market value, provided of course that he can't get them for less without compromising on quality or making problems for himself. So that at least gives you an estimate for how much the Grimstalker's Bow would go for, before factoring in the cost of that lesson in disenchanting magic items.
You're scheduled to call up Robin for assistance in dismantling Alboa after this, but you make a promise to return with the Bow-
With that sorted out, you get on with your third round of investigating the demiplanes, withdrawing from the Arcana Cabana proper and heading down into the basement level, where Balthazar maintains a heavily warded spellcasting chamber. Here, the Merlinean Master performs his version of the Gate Spell, opening a portal to the timeless demiplane.
Dave takes a little convincing to walk through the hole-in-space, and once he's on the other side, he frowns and notes that the magic within the pocket realm feels rather different from that back on Earth.
He's not wrong, and while the difference isn't a big deal for your primarily self-contained approach to sorcery, it's somewhat more of an issue for the two Merlineans, whose power you know to be drawn primarily from the energies of the Earthly Plane. Balthazar is experienced enough that having a planar border between him and his main source of power isn't an issue, but Dave is still new enough to sorcery in general that he's essentially been cut off, and has to rely either on his internal reserves or the energy of this new environment.
Balthazar leads his apprentice through a couple of basic exercises, to illustrate the differences between Earth's energy field and those of the demiplane (and by extension, the Ethereal Plane beyond it), and then warns Dave that, when he's on other planes like this, he should avoid tapping directly into their energies if he has any other option.
"I can hardly cast anything like this, though," Dave protests.
"Then don't," Balthazar tells his student seriously. "Always remember that NOT using magic is also an option, you just have to make sure that you've got the skills to get by when a situation like that comes up. Why do you think I didn't object to you starting martial arts classes?"
"I kind of figured you just enjoyed my suffering..."
Once Dave is as accustomed to the realities of magic use on other planes as he can get in such a short span of time, his master runs through a series of analytical spells, stating his findings out loud and then periodically quizzing Dave on what he thinks they mean.
Being a good friend, you- -let Dave speak his thoughts before sharing your knowledge.
You aren't sure how long it's going to take you and Robin to finish processing Alboa's corpse, and even if you did get the job done today, the difference in time zones could still be an issue for a return trip to New York. On top of that, Balthazar might have things he was planning to do this afternoon or this evening, and you just feel better about giving him a day or so to adjust his schedule to account for this new business.
On that note, the senior sorcerer suggests that you return after lunchtime tomorrow, and make sure your own schedule is clear for a couple of hours.
"Disenchantment doesn't HAVE to take very long," Balthazar clarifies. "A skilled practitioner can break down even relatively complex and powerful items in a matter of minutes. Still, if we're going to make a lesson out of it, best to go slow."
You think you can find the time.
There's a certain balance that has to be maintained when learning magic. As with mundane education, a student who's simply spoon-fed the answers doesn't truly learn the material, he merely trains his skills at rote memorization and recitation - and then only for very specific situations. To gain proper understanding of the subject, one needs to be able to think it through in the field, to work out - for example - both HOW to employ a given mathematical formula, and WHEN to use it.
After all, there's little sense in calculating the volume of a pyramid when all you need to know is the area of a triangle.
With magic, proper comprehension is even more important, because you're working with forces that change from moment to moment, and which can and will blow up in your face if you fail to anticipate their ebb and flow. For all that wizards talk about "memorizing" spells, there's far more to their daily study than simply committing data to memory.
By the same token, however, denying a student access to sources of information doesn't help him. For one thing, nobody's got the time to recreate the entire magical lexicon from scratch; it's utterly impractical, verging on impossible. For another, the exchange of information and ideas is one of the best sources of NEW information and ideas, as an outside perspective may spot implications, inefficiencies, or outright errors in your work that you never noticed.
And on a third point, most magic-users just like to show off their knowledge of the craft, by rigorous debate as often as direct demonstration. You'd be doing Dave a disservice if you didn't help him get used to arguing the fine points of arcane theory with his peers.
So that's what you do. When Balthazar poses a question about the demiplane, you allow Dave to consider what he knows and build a response - and then you verbally poke at the answer, testing it for strengths and weaknesses and pushing Dave to defend his conclusions.
Gained Scholar's Soul C (Plus) (Plus)
Maybe half an hour on, the debate is paused as the four of you relocate to the demiplane of flowing time.
"So time is actually moving faster here than it is on Earth?" Dave wonders. "And it's not moving at all on the other plane, except that we could still move around, and then there are worlds where time moves at different rates at different... well, times... man, this is confusing."
"It's a problem to be aware of," Balthazar agrees with his student. "The difference in time zones on Earth is generally just annoying. Sometimes unprofitable. The difference in time flows between planes? That can be deadly."
"Or very useful," you note, before asking Balthazar if he might have a use for a time-accelerated or timeless demiplane outside the authority of the Powers of the Earthrealm.
The older man pauses and considers that. "The timeless one, not so much," he replies after a moment. "The accelerated one, though... how many days did you say this place would stick around?"
You didn't, but Navi made a point to create the demiplanes so that they'd be available for the better part of a week after Auswahlen, just in case the Quincy need to hide out on the timeless plane for a bit in the aftermath.
"'A week'," Balthazar repeats, looking interested. "And at double the normal rate... yes, I could find a use for that much extra time."
"Why do I feel encroaching doom again?" Dave sighs.
Ignoring his pupil's complaints, Balthazar says to you, "Let's talk rates."
And once again, the two of you haggle.
You quote the going rate for spellcasting services, and the resultant "hiring fee" for having someone Create a Greater Demiplane on another's behalf, but Balthazar shoots that down easily enough; he's well aware that you didn't create this place, let alone for his benefit, and can intuit from your willingness to sell access that you've already paid Navi for her work.
The Merlinean's counter-offer is to break down the normal fee to an hourly rate, which he would pay you according the amount of Earth-time (not accelerated) that he'd use the plane for.
"I think it's a perfectly generous offer."
"He takes the money from my pocket, and calls it generous!" you protest. "Daily rate, hours used or not."
"Hourly rate," Balthazar returns insistently, "but I'll pay according to the subjective time."
You pause at that, covering it with a suspicious glare at the senior sorcerer. That would effectively double your profit margin from his previous offer, and honestly isn't too bad for "resale" of a spell you didn't actually cast. A part of you still wants to push for the daily rate, but you think you'd have to sweeten the offer somehow to get Balthazar to take it, and you're at a bit of a loss as to how to do that. The demiplane is beyond your ability to meaningfully alter, and anything you could do, Balthazar can likely do just as well.
At the same time, if you're reading Balthazar's mood correctly - and you think you are - you might be able to push for something extra on top of the "accelerated" hourly rate...
You decide to keep things simple, accepting Balthazar's latest offer and going with the traditional method of payment for sorcerous exchanges.
Gained Business E (Plus)
With that, the last of your current business with the New York Merlineans is concluded. As Balthazar starts opening up a Gate home, you wish the two of them well.
"You're not going to come back for lunch?" Dave asks.
"I'm running on California time, Dave," you remind him. "It'll be a couple more hours before I feel like eating."
Your stomach rumbles in protest.
"Quiet, you."
"Besides," Briar adds, "he's got some horribly disgusting work to do."
"Yeah, probably for the best NOT to go into that with a full stomach."
"...right, you mentioned you were going to be cutting up a giant dead snake," Dave belatedly recalls. He pauses, and then asks, "Um, out of curiosity, how 'giant' are we talking, here? Like, an overgrown viper four or five feet long, or something more in the python range, like ten or fifteen feet?"
You smirk and pull out a certain plushie snake corpse.
Dave regards Alboa's crossed-out eyes and trailing tongue. "That is a disturbingly cute method of transporting a dead body, and now I'm never going to be able to look at a stuffed animal without picturing them as the exact same thing. Thanks for that, really."
"You're welcome," you reply cheerfully. "And as to your previous question, this is the snake under the effects of the Spell to Shrink Items."
"Shrink Item, Shrink Item... right, so it would be sixteen times looohwait, what?! It's over two feet long like this! That would make the actual body...!"
"Somewhere past thirty feet," you agree.
"...eeep."
Setting Alboa down for the moment, you start taking out various tools you brought along from your workshop, having planned ahead for the occasion. Ideally, you'd be butchering the snake's corpse in a well-warded and sterile chamber, but you don't have ready access to any such facility large enough to handle a body of this size. Your Mirror Hideaway isn't big enough for the task, either, to say nothing of its ventilation issues, and while doing the work outside and under a Spell of Private Sanctum was certainly an option, this is just better.
After all, nobody can just walk into the demiplane, and you can get twice as much work done here as you could back on Earth. Or at least that's what it works out to.
Anyway, once Balthazar and Dave are gone, you call up Robin, who arrives with bags and arms full of his own tools.
"Oh, so we're doing the work here, then?" the smith asks, looking around. "Good call. Getting full value out of Mom's spellwork, huh?"
"Do you think she would object?"
"No, you've paid for both of these planes in full; what you do with them now is your own business."
"I AM SUMMONED!"
*Crackathoom!*
You look up at the perpetual fogbank that is the "sky" of this island floating in the ether, and then back at your teacher. "One of these days," you warn him, "I'm going to figure out how you do that."
Batreaux just grins. "Not today, my student!"
While your half of the arrangement you reached with the alien ghost bird has yet to be completed, there's been SOME progress into the observation of the reincarnated psychic bio-computer - enough that you figure it wouldn't hurt to call Grey Voice up to observe your work today, as a bit of tit for tat.
If nothing else, it'll give him an idea of where you stand in terms of skill at dissection and knowledge of Fae snake biology - something of a niche subject, admittedly, but still.
When Grey Voice materializes in the circle, he blinks once and looks around at the demiplane.
"Interesting," he muses. "An artificial reality. Your work, young one?"
"I contracted out to Navi," you admit. "I am working on mastering the basic form of the spell that created it, though."
"Ah." Grey Voice folds his arms. "What business do you have with me today?"
By way of explanation, you take out Alboa, set its plush form down atop a long stone slab you conjured up at Robin's suggestion, and end the Spell to Shrink an Item.
Grey Voice arches a feathered brow at the sudden appearance of the giant snake.
"I struck a deal with another Fae a few days ago to get this creature to leave her territory," you recount, as you start putting on the leather apron you picked up back when you were outfitting your workshop. You've had little cause to wear it before now, but you're glad you took Gen's advice and went for something that covered as much of your body as possible, because carving up Alboa promises to be messy, messy work. "In spite of the fact that it had responded to her attempts at peaceful negotiation by spitting poison at her, I tried to be diplomatic myself - and nearly got broiled alive for my trouble. In the end, I killed it, and now I'm hoping to harvest some useful reagents from its body."
"...I see," Grey Voice replies neutrally. "Do you customarily butcher the bodies of your slain enemies for raw materials, or is this a special occasion?"
"Most of the things I've killed to date were demons," you reply. "They tend not to leave bodies behind when they die."
"That aside," Batreaux notes, "it IS customary among many Hyrulean magical styles to claim some portion of a kill in this manner. Symbolically, it echoes the ancient struggle of predator and prey, of facing death in the name of survival, and of one life gaining nourishment and strength at the cost of another. Such things are pleasing to Farore and Din, and Nayru at least does not disapprove of making intelligent use of available resources - within reason, of course. Practically, it's a source of good reagents, as well as a means of discouraging other beings from trying to kill you."
In the midst of pulling on the long, heavy gloves that go with the apron - and which are more like detachable sleeves, particularly in how they come up under the mantle-like top of the overgarment - you pause and wonder if you should have called up one or more of the priests.
Terok's honestly a little too creaky for this sort of thing.
Lanora would have been fine with it.
Have you ever seen a Kokiri screaming and covered in blood? Because that's how you see a Kokiri screaming and covered in blood.
...eh, maybe next time.
In any case, Grey Voice doesn't seem to object to the whole business. He does mention that it's more in-line with the practices of some of his distant relatives - something about spiritual retreats and talons? - but he does agree that it's better to do something with the body other than leaving it to rot.
He and Batreaux get into a debate about the morality and ethics of the disposal of the corpses of sapient beings after that, arguing the merits of respect for the dead and the practical benefits of looting - which your master in sorcery notes is really just an outgrowth of the primordial cycle of hunter and hunted.
While they're doing that, you move to a safe distance from the corpse and cast a few spells, shoring up your skills at butchery and reinforcing your stomach against the sights, sounds, and smells you're about to encounter.
Once the magical emanations have died down, you get to work.
"The first order of business is draining the blood," Robin says, as he sets a barrel big enough for either of you to climb into down at the end of a trough you included in the stone platform supporting Alboa's body. "The snake's wounds are already doing that, of course, but we can make things go faster by doing this..."
And from there, it gets messy.
Bleeding the carcass.
Peeling off the scaly hide.
Plucking the eyes.
Carving back the muscle and fat.
Removing the venom sacs.
Cracking the ribs to get at the innermost of the gooey innards.
The sights, the sounds, the SMELL, the FEEL of things going squish and squirt and squelch under your fingers...
Good Goddesses, are you ever glad you cast the Spell of Persistent Vigor.
Gained Iron Stomach D
Gained Survival E (Plus) (Plus) (Plus)
Gained Zoology E (Plus) (Plus) (Plus)
Taking a break towards the end of the work, you review the... parts... you've pulled out of Alboa.
First, there's the matter of the blood. Robin took a small sample aside to run some tests, and the results show that, despite being both snake and Fae, Alboa is not - or rather, was not - enough of a shapeshifter for its blood to be a suitable reagent for improving your Blessed Blade. The blood is still useful, mind, particularly as a symbol of Alboa's sorcerous power, just not for the purpose you'd hoped.
As far as other potential reagents go, the obvious culprits are the snake's fangs and poison sacs: the former being both symbolic of and the delivery method for its venomous bite; the latter, the actual source of the poison. The serpent's skin is another outstanding possibility, not only for being natural armor or because of albinism's associations with sacredness and taboo, but also because it is the part of Alboa that was nigh-constantly in contact with water. The eyes and tongue have some value for magic meant to enhance their respective senses.
Aside from that, there's meat, bones, and a few internal organs that your summoned "assistants" say make good eating. Alboa's heart, Batreaux notes, might have been more useful to you if you hadn't claimed a Heart Container for overcoming the beast; as it stands, it would be just another organ in your hands. Balthazar might still find a use for it, though it's definitely inferior.
The rest is just refuse.
Since Alboa is your kill, you've got first refusal on the parts, although since the blood has turned out to be a bust, there's nothing you truly NEED, and hence you wouldn't really be losing anything by letting Robin take his payment first.
What's your preference?
After taking all the possibilities into consideration, you find that you are by far most interested in acquiring Alboa's Skin. For one thing, there is an awful lot of it; over a hundred square feet, at a guess. Not all of that will be equally useful, of course: certain scales are damaged, particularly where your attacks connected, but also along what was the snake's belly; and while Robin was able to remove most of the skin from the base of the head back in two large sections, you're going to have to cut them down to more manageable size to make anything from them, which will inevitably result in some practical loss of material.
Even so, you could do quite a bit with that much snakeskin, and it's got some properties you're rather curious about. What exactly does a "sacred" affinity look like, and what sort of enchantments will it work with? How about "taboo"?
With that in mind, you go ahead and make your claim.
Gained Alboa's Skin
"Damn," Robin mutters. "I was hoping you'd be more interested in the fangs."
"I thought about it," you admit, as you pick up the first of the rolled-up sections of snakeskin. After a moment of considering the volume of the material, the tools you brought with you, and the space within your dimensional pocket, you decide to cast the Spell to Shrink Items again, making both sections more manageable for transport. You can restore them to normal once you're back in your workshop. "But I'm not that familiar with poison-based magic yet."
"Fair enough," the smith replies. "Well, if I can't get the skin... I'll take these."
And he pockets the bottled Venom Sacs.
"Not the fangs?" you question.
Robin shakes his head. "They'd work best as weapons, and I'm not really interested in making poisoned daggers or the like. The Venom Sacs are less restricted; I can work them into something to protect against poison, or trade them to a healer."
Makes sense. Poison and medicine are two sides of the same coin.
With your primary reagents claimed, you start shrinking down the rest of the useable components harvested from Alboa's corpse. The cost of their various, non-Hylian Glass containers is covered by the "payment" of Alboa's Venom Sacs, so you don't owe Robin anything there.
The only downside in all of this is that you're officially out one white plushie snake.
Lost Alboa Plushie
Zelda is going to be cross with you.
Looking over the bits of the giant snake that you are at least willing to concede might be considered edible by SOME people, you decide to see if Grack the Troll is interested in trading for some of it. Something as big as a troll needs a fair amount of food to keep going, and you've got a decent amount of meat here.
Actually, on that note, maybe you should see how Grack feels about boar? You've got all that pork stashed away on Bali Ha'i, and while preserved, it won't keep forever...
But you'll start with the "fresh" meat.
Part of you is hopeful that Grack will be willing to trade you some of his blood, so that you can try to create an item with a regenerative enchantment.
A greater part acknowledges that the troll probably won't be THAT grateful, as he does have a job that apparently pays well enough to keep him satisfied.
Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained. You separate some of the snake meat and bones from the rest, before shrinking everything down.
Gained Snake Parts
Once you've got everything else packed away, your group moves off from the stone table. While you start casting cleaning spells for those who need them, Batreax calls up Fire and sets the refuse left atop the table aflame, then invokes Wind to keep the smoke and the stench from drifting your way.
Eventually, all the gore is cleaned up, the overclothes put away with the rest of your equipment, and the fire burned down to ash, cinders, and greasy residue. A few more relatively minor spells to clear that away, and you are done; thanking your summoned allies, you release them to return to their own affairs - after settling accounts with Robin, of course. He accepts the Grimstalker's Armor from you, notes that he'll be in touch once he's sourced some shifter's blood for your sword, and hands over a few Rupees to clear the remainder of the debt.
Gained 75 Rupees
Lost Grimstalker's Armor
The whole bloody business of butchering Alboa took about four hours, demiplane time, which makes it two in the afternoon back in New York, and still about an hour shy of lunch in Sunnydale.
If you wanted to, you could probably drop in on Balthazar and Dave again and offload some of your newly acquired ophidian goods without ruining anyone's meal. On the other hand, you're in no rush; your shrunken wares will keep for the next two weeks, and you're already scheduled to meet up with Balthazar tomorrow. You could just wait.
While you had been inclined to head home after this bit of unpleasant but necessary work was done, you figure you might as well drop back in on Balthazar and Dave and try to unload some of your newly acquired goods.
If nothing else, you might be able to leverage the fact that the Snake Parts were collected today against Balthazar in negotiations, freshly harvested reagents being somewhat more valuable than ones that have been sitting around soaking up ambient energies for a while.
And so, you open up a Gate back to that alley-
"MROWR!"
-giving the cat you've seen hanging around before a scare in the process.
You can almost hear the animal's complaint: "First people appearing out of and disappearing into thin air in my alley, and now people-sized holes in space!?"
On a side note, there's a lot less of that spitting, crackling, pseudo-electrical discharge involved in the opening of this particular Gate than the ones you've opened to Urahara's basement, Bali Ha'i, and even your purchased demiplanes. Lower ambient energy levels producing less interference with the spell matrix, maybe? Or vice-versa?
You muse on the possibilities as you cross the street to the Arcana Cabana.
"Hello," Dave once greets you with the cry of the retail damned, "and welcome to- wha, Alex? Briar? Again?"
"Don't act so happy to see us," Briar advises dryly.
"No, I mean- I thought you were going home?"
"I had a change of heart," you reply. "Also a change of clothes."
"Huh? Oh, wait; giant snake. Yeah, um... I take it that got messy?"
"It did," you reply, "but hopefully the results will be worth the upset stomach."
"That depends on what you're selling," Balthazar says, as he steps up behind Dave.
"Bwah!"
"One giant Fae snake, freshly rendered with the assistance of a Fae smith, my master in the DARK ARTS, and the spirit of an extraterrestrial sage." As you speak, you start taking out some of the Snake Parts: the eyes; the tongue; the barrel of blood; the fangs; and even samples of the meat, bones, and organs, on the off-chance that Balthazar is interested.
And all of it, shrunken down and rendered in soft, fuzzy fabric.
Dave stares as the tiny plush materials pile up on the counter. "Oh. My. God," he breathes in horrified fascination, poking at the fuzzy guts. "It's like you butchered a resident of the Hundred Acre Wood!"
"Silly old Dave," Briar chuckles. "There are no snakes in the Hundred Acre Wood."
"Well, no, not anymore!"
While Dave tries to wrap his head around your chosen method of transporting the Snake Parts, you commence another round of business negotiations with Balthazar. In the process, you naturally have to restore the items to their natural state-
"It's looking at me," Dave hisses frantically, as he stares into one of Alboa's Eyes. "WHY is it LOOKING at me?"
-though you're careful to make sure everything is on a clean ceramic tray that Balthazar gets out, so as to avoid contamination. Or just gooey messes.
The small barrel of blood doesn't need that precaution, but you do make a point not to leave the top open too long when you let Balthazar inspect the contents.
"I can't help but notice the lack of skin and venom glands," the older sorcerer notes.
"I took the skin, Robin claimed the venom sacs," you answer.
"Ah."
Over the course of the negotiations, Balthazar says he has no real use for the mundane Snake Parts. Of the remaining reagents, the Fangs are the big prize, and the sorcerer-shopkeeper doesn't attempt to disguise his interest in them. He's more canny about his interest in the keg of Alboa's Blood, which has you wondering if it might not be more profitable to sell off the liquid in smaller "doses" than all at once - small as the barrel is, there are still literally hundreds of ounces in it. As for the Eyes and the Tongue, they prompt no special reaction from Balthazar, which is entirely understandable, as he has numerous reagents of similar value in stock.
When you get to the matter of sale prices - and after a fair bit of haggling, accusations of thievery, the failure of various senses and the mind, and other good-natured gambits - Balthazar is willing to pay $1,000 (or the equivalent in silver and gold) for Alboa's Fangs, provided he gets all four of them. He says he'll give you $200 for the keg of snake blood, $100 for both of Alboa's Eyes, and $80 for the Tongue.
Gained Haggling C (Plus)
You have few compunctions about handing over the majority of your loot - a slight twinge about the loss of the Fangs (or at least one of them), perhaps, but no hesitation whatsoever about the Eyes and the Tongue.
That having been said, you decide to hold onto the keg of Alboa's Blood for now, to see if some of your other contacts might have a more profitable use for it, or even just a more enjoyable one.
You're not sure how the Shuzens feel about snake blood or Fae blood, let alone Fae snake blood, and you feel like you should find out before you sell the stuff.
After all, you're not planning any exploratory excursions to Faerie for the foreseeable future, so who knows when the next time you'll run into a giant Fae serpent will be?
Hey, Nayru-
That was a rhetorical question.
-whoops, never mind.
Sold Alboa's Eyes, Fangs, and Tongue
Gained $1,180
Incidentally, what form of payment did you take for these items?
With your transaction complete, you return the shrunken-down keg of blood and meaty snake bits to your pocket.
"Grand departure, take two?" Dave suggests.
"So eager to get rid of me?"
"I mean, the last time, you came back with a slaughtered snake doll, so I'm kind of curious to see what happens this time."
Ah. Well, you can assure him that there will be no further acts of plush butchery today, so he can rest easy on that account.
"Way too late," Dave sighs.
On the other hand, now that you've got something like three hundred pounds of meat, bones, and (supposedly) edible organs taking up space in your pocket, you were planning to track down Grack the Troll to see if he would be interested in taking some of it off your hands. More for the novelty of "a taste of home" than anything else, you expect.
"...huh. That... actually sounds kind of nice," Dave admits.
You consider your friend and fellow sorcerer for a moment, and decide not to ruin his mood by telling him that you were hoping to trade the meat for some of Grack's blood.
Aside from that, you might look in on the Archers, to see if they're prepared for the big day.
"I spoke with Miles on Sunday," Balthazar interjects at that. "He and Alice have warned all of their sensible relatives about Auswahlen - most of the adults, some of the teenagers - and while not all of them really believe they're in danger, there's been a general agreement that they wouldn't really be losing anything by humoring their elders and having a 'family reunion' over the weekend. The only ones left to tell are the kids, the two potential troublemakers, and their immediate family. They were planning to leave that until Friday afternoon."
And that's when he was going to take them to the demiplane?
Balthazar nods.
Huh. Well, that does a lot to settle your mind about the Archers.
Once you've reached a final decision on what you're selling and how much it's going for, Balthazar steps behind the counter, shoos Dave out of the way, and opens up the old-fashioned cash register to fetch your payment.
"Could I get that half in cash, and half in gold and silver?" you ask, as the senior sorcerer starts counting through bills.
"Easily done," Balthazar replies. He counts out five hundred-dollar bills, a fifty, and two twenties, then closes the till and taps one of the keys with a pulse of Summoning Magic; when he reopens the drawer, there is a clink of metal shifting in the tray, and Balthazar starts taking coins out.
"Extra-dimensional space anchored to the register?" you muse.
"Extra-dimensional space anchored to the shop," Balthazar corrects, "but accessible through the register."
"...right," you say, nodding. "Otherwise somebody could just walk off with the machine."
"They could try."
The books chained to that one shelf laugh their whispery laughs.
Gained $590
Gained 5 gold pieces
Gained 54 silver pieces
You think you can trust the Archers to manage their own kin, and Balthazar to handle the necessary spellcasting. If it turns out that you are needed for some reason, he's got your number.
Time to look for Grack, then.
Seeing as how the troll didn't give you a phone number or an address at your last meeting - which you can hardly blame him for, given it was also your first - you're going to need to resort to magic to find him. The Spell to Locate a Creature would work, provided Grack wasn't inside a building with a layer of lead paint, magical wards, or just thick walls, but it would also only tell you which direction he was in, which could leave you wandering New York City for an extended period of time with the spell going. Your shiny new Spell of Mind Blank means you wouldn't have to worry about the spell's aura, but the active pulses of Divination Magic might be another story; also, you don't particularly fancy the idea of just walking blindly around New York, even if it is early in the afternoon here.
Greater Scrying, then. Shorten the duration to minutes to save some mana and reduce the associated "noise" on Grack's end, get permission from Balthazar to cast from under his wards-
"Granted, but try to keep it short."
-and you're good to go.
The familiar viewing globe takes shape-
"Aaaa!"
"Ugh!"
"Mother-!"
-and is filled with a scene of screaming violence involving one troll, perhaps a dozen hoodlums who are NOT wearing those little beanies you remember the last group of punks having, and an unfamiliar alley.
"You, uh, seem to have caught him at a bad time," Dave notes.
"Yeah, he's probably not enjoying having it so easy," you agree absently. The Beanie Meanies at least had some magical support; from what you can see and sense through your spell, this lot have muscle, a variety of cheap weapons, and numbers.
"That's... not what I..." Dave trails off, considering your words. "Right, troll."
"Punks were warned," Grack is saying. "Punks made trouble at Boss's place, and Grack asked nicely for punks to leave. Punks did it again, and Grack warned punks not to come back. Punks did it anyway, so now, Grack NOT asking, NOT warning, and NOT NICE."
As with the last time you saw him troll-handling a group of young men in over their heads, Grack seems to have the situation well in claw. For all the screaming, weapons, and flying bodies, there's little if any blood to be seen, and the bodies on the ground are groaning too much to be in any danger of their lives.
Even if Grack probably could take the guys he's throwing around with one hand tied behind his back, it'd still be rude to disturb him in the middle of work. As such, you don't try to cast a Message Spell to get his attention.
The melee continues for a short time-
*Ring-ring*
-and you, Briar, and Dave look up from your scrying sphere (which you do your best to maneuver out of sight behind your body, while also willing it to be silent) as someone walks into the Arcana Cabana. The newcomer is a man in his late twenties or early thirties, dressed in business casual, and no one you recognize.
"Am I... interrupting something?" the stranger.
"No," you and Dave reply immediately.
From the man's faintly wry smile and glance at the arm you have tucked behind your back, he rather doubts that.
You give Dave a nudge with the elbow of your unoccupied arm, and when your friend looks at you in confusion, you nod meaningfully in the direction of the... customer? Client? Business partner, maybe? Newcomer, you'll go with that.
Catching the hint, Dave launches into his "Welcome to the Arcana Cabana" spiel that you've partly heard twice already today.
You do your best to look innocent and keep the basketball-sized scrying sphere out of sight.
Fortunately, Balthazar pops up again and quickly takes charge of "Mr. Hansen," inquiring how the Mother's Day gift worked out and what he's interested in today, while expertly steering the man's attention away from you and Dave - but mostly you, who he gives one of those speaking glances when his customer isn't looking.
You heed the wordless request by shifting to keep yourself between Mr. Hansen and the sphere, and carefully backing up until you're able to duck behind one of the shelves and get out of his line of sight.
"Note to self," you quietly observe. "Scrying in a shop open to the public is probably not the best idea."
"On the bright side," Briar adds, "I think he thinks you and Dave were just messing around with some of the merchandise."
Here's hoping.
Putting your back to the counter where Blake and Hansen are talking business, you walk further down the aisle and around the far end of the shelf. Only when you're well out of sight do you look into the scrying sphere again.
You're not surprised to see that Grack has largely finished his business with the punks. There are seven- make that six groaning, twitching bodies laid out in the alley around him, some on the concrete, others fetched up against the walls, and three more that appear to be entirely unconscious. He's holding an eleventh thug up by the shirt, and you can just make out one, maybe two more running for their lives.
Hosting the punk upright, Grack leans forward and growls, "Now, punk want to listen to Grack, or punk want to keep arguing?"
"Listen!"
"Good, so punk make sure to listen closely. Punk and punk's friends. Not. Welcome. At Boss's place. Money not matter, numbers" - Grack gestures around the alley - "not matter, little knives and sticks not matter. This very last warning. Come again, make trouble for customers again, and Grack have permission to solve problem troll way."
The punk looks like he suspects he really doesn't want to know, but he asks anyway: "What's the troll way?"
Grack grins, toothily. "It involve dinner party."
Yup, he didn't want to know.
"So punk remember and warn punk's friends, hm?"
There is a frantic nod.
"Good. Grack done here, then."
And the troll drops the punk, turns, and starts walking towards the darker end of the alley. You wait until he's far enough away to be out of earshot of the humans before you cast the Message Spell.
"Good afternoon, Grack."
"Hm?" The troll stops in mid-stride and looks straight in the direction of your scrying sensor. "Grack know that voice..."
"This is Alex Harris, the little fairy's human boy?"
"Ah! Grack remember. Why Alex calling Grack?" The troll frowns. "If Alex hoping for fight, Grack have to refuse. Grack on the clock."
"Yeah, I caught the end of your, uh, business meeting," you admit.
"Anyway," you continue, forbearing to comment on affairs that are not your concern, "the reason I'm calling is because I found my way into a fairly large quantity of snake meat from Faerie the other day-"
You swear you can see Grack's ears perk up at that.
"-and I was wondering if you'd be interested in trading for some of it?"
"Grack not biggest fan of snake meat," the troll replies thoughtfully, "but Grack not had ANY meat from home for moons, now. Might be nice treat. How much meat does Alex have?"
"The snake in question was over thirty feet long, and I had some professional help rendering it down for parts, so... quite a bit," you reply. "I kept the bones and most of the edible organs, too, if that matters."
Something on the other end of the line rumbles ominously.
"Alex had Grack's curiosity," the troll says. "Now Alex have Grack's attention."
You explain to Grack that, due to the mass involved, you're keeping the meat and other bits in a shrunken state, which not only makes them easier to carry but also preserves freshness. The only catch is that, unless Grack has access to a means of casting the Spell to Dispel Magic-
"Grack fresh out of those."
-then he'd have to wait a while for the magic to wear off. You could easily cancel the spells and reapply them in a lesser form when you hand the meat over, though, so at least he won't be waiting a couple of weeks for that meal.
All in all, it is safe to say that Grack is interested in what you're selling, but as noted, he's on the clock, so you'll have to meet up at another time to finalize the deal.
And really, asking someone for a sample of their blood is the sort of business that ought to be discussed face-to-face, rather than over the line like this.
"Grack get off work in about four hours," the troll says. By this point, he's long since reached the end of the alley, and has been loitering near a manhole while you talk. "Meet Alex then?"
You consider that. The time's no big deal, though it does help that it's the middle of June; you'd be more reluctant about the idea of walking around New York City somewhere past six in the evening in the middle of winter. Go home now, get lunch, and do something non-magical for a couple of hours to let your reserves recover a bit - you've been leaning on ritual casting as much as possible today, but you have used up some of your mana - then slip out of town at three in the afternoon and teleport back to the Big Apple? Entirely doable.
For preference, you'd probably be meeting Grack in "his place" in the park. You know it well enough to teleport to, he'd be comfortable there, and it seemed reasonably clear of foot-traffic, beany boys, itinerant sorcerers, and old martial arts masters aside.
"I'll see you this evening, then," you reply.
Grack nods. "Until then."
And with that, he crouches down, sticks the tips of his claws through the openings on the manhole cover, and pries it up without so much as a grunt.
"There's no way he'll fit," Dave says.
As you only applied the Message Spell to yourself and Grack, the troll doesn't hear your human friend's remark and hence doesn't respond to it. Instead, he sucks in his gut, does something VERY unpleasant-looking with his shoulders-
"Oh, that cannot be healthy."
-and squeezes himself into the open shaft. Despite how awkward the entire series of movements ought to be, Grack displays a certain unsettling ease throughout it. Not grace - it looks entirely too uncomfortable for that, and the idea of something as big and nasty as a troll being graceful is at once amusing and quietly alarming - but a sense of something practiced often enough to become routine.
The fact that Grack manages to maneuver himself and the manhole cover around so that the latter comes down neatly in place after the former - and with only the faintest of clangs, at that - is just the icing on that particular cake.
You let your Spell of Scrying lapse there, not really wanting to see what New York's sewers look like, even if it IS just one of the storm drains.
After all, you have some idea about the sorts of creatures that live under Sunnydale, as well as in certain subterranean passages and chambers in Hyrule. Grack certainly isn't the only supernatural being roaming around beneath the streets.
"I may never look at a manhole the same way again," Dave mutters.
"Been a day of unsettling revelations for you, hasn't it?" you offer, trying to be sympathetic.
"Oh, yeah."
You give Dave a pat on the arm, but offer no further reassurances.
You can't really think of any that would work.
With your business at the Arcana Cabana concluded (for real, this time), you wish Dave a good day (again), and head for the door. Noting that Balthazar is in the middle of discussing something with Mr. Hansen, you simply wait for a moment until you catch the elder sorcerer's eye, and nod to him once. When Balthazar returns the acknowledgment, you turn and leave the shop, and make your way back to Sunnydale.
After landing near the abandoned gas station, you're about to start the run home - reflecting idly on the possibility of setting up some sort of shielded travel hub, now that you've got access to Gates on top of teleportation - when a thought occurs that has you ducking inside the run-down convenience store and calling up a Private Sanctum.
"Did you see something out there?" Briar wonders.
"No, nothing like that. It just occurred to me that I'm down one plush animal, and Zelda might not be too happy with me if she finds out."
You spend the next quarter-hour casting a modified Major Spell of Creation, whipping up Alboa 2.0. It's the same size and shape as Alboa's shrunken, plushified form, and even has the cartoonish dead eyes and dangling tongue.
Gained Plush Snake "Alboa"
Pocketing your creation, you clean up the residue of your spellcasting, dismiss the Private Sanctum, and return home, arriving in good time for lunch.
Zelda is delighted by her new "pet snake."
You had considered doing something with Zelda this afternoon, but over a meal of grilled cheese sandwiches, potato chips, and soft drinks, your little sister proudly informs you that she has been invited over to a friend's house - so that's out.
If you lived in a different town - or for preference, a different state - you might not think anything of Zelda spending the afternoon at a friend's house, but the fact of the matter is that you live in Sunnydale, and even in the middle of the day, Sunnydale isn't safe. At least not in the way that other small towns across the country would define it.
You're pretty sure most such communities don't have demons openly walking around helping to set up for Independence Day - which reminds you, the Fourth of July is coming up again in a few weeks...
Leaving that aside for the time being, you don a smile and ask Zelda a few questions about her friend, learning that her name is Cassie Newton, they go to playschool together, and her family lives about three blocks away.
Nothing about any of that sets off any alarms, but once Zelda has taken off to the bathroom to brush her teeth and clean up for her visit, you consult with your father about the family in question.
He replies that he's met Cassie's parents a few times, doing the pick-up and drop-off at the preschool, and they've spoken a bit. The family moved to Sunnydale at the start of the last school year, and they have a son named Chris in first grade - which helps explain why the name isn't immediately familiar to you. If his folks had been careless enough to name him "Isaac," it would have been all over the school, but since they didn't, the kid dodged a bullet.
Or perhaps an apple.
All in all, the Newtons seem to be a perfectly normal family.
But you are not satisfied with "seems to be."
As such, when your father and Zelda pile into the car for the short drive, you head down to your workshop, call up a Mirror Hideaway, and quickly cast a Greater Spell of Scrying, targeting Zelda. As the scrying sphere appears - revealing the interior of the family car, Zelda happily kicking her heels against the back seat - you briefly consider whether or not you should collect focuses to help spells like this one home in on your family members. A lock of hair, a few drops of blood, even a fingernail clipping would provide a connection to work through, allowing your magic to resolve with greater surety. But would that be a little too much? Crossing the line from preparedness to paranoia, or just from odd to creepy?
Something to think about.
As noted, the Newtons don't live that far away, so you aren't surprised when your dad stops the car not long after you've cast your spell. Zelda all but leaps out of the vehicle, leaving the door open behind her as she runs across the lawn and up the front steps of the house, ringing the doorbell a couple of times before remembering her manners and taking her finger off the buzzer.
The woman who answers the door a moment later is visibly younger than either of your parents, somewhere in her early thirties at a guess, and dressed in a casual blouse and slacks. She has dark blonde hair and blue eyes, features which are present but lighter on the girl of Zelda's age who comes running down the hall behind her.
As the cheerful and slightly high-pitched greetings ensue, you extend your senses through your spell, trying to get a reading on the Newtons.
The mother registers as entirely mundane. The only thing that's really noteworthy about her is that she has a lot less of the Hellmouth's taint on her person, suggesting that she's a relatively recent arrival to Sunnydale - which is something you could have guessed anyway, just from how she looks her age instead of several hard years to a rough decade older.
The daughter, meanwhile, blinks pale blue eyes and glances in the direction of your scrying sensor as your probe sweeps over her, revealing something that resonates with the School of Divination, but is not, in and of itself, properly magic. A minor extrasensory talent of some sort?
Gained Big Brother C
Well, then.
From one perspective, the discovery that Zelda's friend is a little more than normal vindicates your decision to remotely observe their meeting.
From another point of view, it just proves that you were overreacting.
Either way, the readings you've gotten off of the two Newtons and their home reveal no danger to Zelda, and hence, no reason for you to keep scrying on them, much less to do something like introduce yourself via a Message Spell.
Because really, if you want to make a good first impression on a friend of Zelda's, it should be made in person.
Dismissing the spell, you exit the Hideaway and head upstairs.
"Is this going to be a thing from now on, Alex?" Briar wonders, as the two of you exit the basement. "Spying on Zelda's friends?"
"First of all, it wasn't spying, it was cautious observation-"
"Pretty sure that's one of the definitions of 'spying', partner."
"-and second, as long as we live in Sunnydale, I think it's only good sense to vet the people Zelda's going to be spending a lot of time with. At least until she's old enough and has shown the judgment necessary to do it herself."
"...well, you're not wrong about that part," Briar replies. "Just... don't turn into Blossom, okay?"
You pause, recalling the tale of the sisterly fairy turned well-intentioned tyrant by the loss of a few of her younger siblings.
"Ah. Was I...?"
"Just a bit?"
"...okay. I'll, uh, try to work on that."
With Zelda off visiting, Dad having mentioned he was going in to Rory's garage for a while, and Mom at work, the house feels emptier than usual; because of that, while you try reading Weave of Magic, you have some trouble getting into it. It's not the silence that distracts you, for you've passed many a late night or early morning with only your books and the occasional sleepy grumble from Briar for company before this. The problem is the lack of three familiar presences, even sleeping, and how aware of their absence you are thanks to your numerous extra senses.
Whether because of that distraction or simply because of the number of pages left, you don't quite manage to finish the book by the time your self-imposed deadline comes up. You're pretty close, though; you make it another hour or so, ninety minutes at the outside, before you reach the end of the instructive tome.
You spoke to your father about your afternoon plans before he left, but just in case, you write a quick note for the parents about your impending departure and expected time of return. Then, after letting Moblin out into the backyard with fresh food and water in his bowls and a reminder not to leave the property, you lock the doors and head off.
As you jog through Sunnydale's mid-afternoon summer heat, that idea about a transportation hub comes back to you. At the very least, you think you could start traveling to and from your various out-of-town spellcasting sites via teleportation; between your Mana Concealment, use of the ritual casting method, and the wards on your house, you should be able to hide the standard Spell of Teleportation, as long as you give the energies a couple of hours to disperse before casting another spell "in the open," so to speak.
You cross into the forest without trouble, passing a few cars going either way in the process before turning off the road when no one else is around. Out of sight behind the treeline, you cast the Greater Spell of Scrying again, the duration turned down to mere seconds as you confirm where Grack is - and yes, he's in his place in the park, leaning against one of the sturdier trees with a couple of coolers at his feet, and a large leather carryall hanging from one shoulder.
Someone's been thinking ahead.
You make a quick sweep of the area to confirm the absence of third parties, then signal Grack that you'll be arriving shortly and begin casting the Greater Spell of Teleportation.
"Grack not sure Grack ever get used to magic people popping out of thin air like that," the troll observes, shaking his head. "At least Alex have manners to call first."
"It is your place," you return, "and I like my head where it is."
"This why Grack like Alex; Alex THINKS of these things. So many other magic people NOT! Come popping out of nowhere and then blame Grack when Grack hit them for it, like THEY do any different if Grack leap out of hiding at them. Not want to get hit? Not try sneak up on troll! But no, always troll's fault." Grack sighs, and then straightens up. "But Alex not come to hear Grack grumble about rude people. Alex come for business."
"I did."
You produce one of the small bits of meat you separated out from the main portions, as well as one of the bones, and hand their plush forms over to Grack-
He eyes the plush pieces on his palm with puzzlement, muttering, "Grack see Alex not kidding about funny shrinking spell."
-before restoring them to normal and allowing the potential customer to test the scent, flavor, and other qualities of the samples.
And by that, you mean that Grack eagerly gulps down the piece of meat and crunches the bone to powder in his jaws.
"Taste like home," the troll sighs, "only musty and wet. Snake live in water, in cave?"
It did. He can tell that?
"Grack is troll of many talents," comes the modest reply.
So you've been learning. Although on that mention of talents, you are reminded that you were considering asking Grack for some of his blood in trade for the snake parts. You haven't mastered the Spell of Regeneration yet, but you're getting there, and once you do have it down, the blood of a natural regenerator - who is from a species infamous for that very ability - would be a superb reagent for anchoring the magic to an item.
But Grack isn't just a troll; he is a troll from Faerie, and one who has more than a little experience with "rude" spellcasters. You almost certainly aren't the first magic-user to consider his blood's potential as a magical reagent, and while you've managed to get on Grack's good side, the nature of that request would very much be working against you. As much as it's clear Grack is interested in the meat, he might refuse you out of principle.
For some reason, you find yourself oddly reluctant to name your intended price for the meat. A last-minute attack of nerves, maybe?
If so, you shake it off, reminding yourself that Grack previously mentioned he has a rather large food bill, and being able to pay you a small amount of blood in exchange for this "taste of home" would allow him to save some money without meaningfully impairing him.
Thus resolved, you state your terms and explain your intent, telling Grack how you've been studying a Spell of Regeneration, and hope to eventually use that to create a magic item that will grant you the benefits of that spell on a permanent basis.
"And Alex want to use troll blood for magic item, because troll heal like nobody's business," Grack concludes, his expression neutral.
Got it in one.
You add that you're willing to swear a magically binding oath to your Goddesses not to abuse the gift of the blood, or to employ it for any other purpose save the creation of your desired item of power. That said, you also admit that you're aware this is, perhaps, a bit much of a price to be asking for a one-time offer of food - even this much of it - and from a troll you've only spoken to three times and met in person twice. With that in mind, if Grack would prefer to pay you some other way, you're willing to take cash.
Grack brightens at this.
"Grack would prefer to pay cash this time," he says firmly. "Nothing against Alex or Alex's Goddesses, but Grack have cultural and personal history with magic people after trolls' blood. It sort of thing that make troll cautious."
You figured that might be the case. If that's Grack's decision, you'll respect it-
"But Grack might have... counter-offer," the troll adds slowly, as if testing - or tasting? - the words.
-you're listening.
"Alex say asking for blood for food one time maybe a bit much, and Grack agree. But what if blood pay for more than one time?"
Grack's proposal is this: You've been able to acquire meat from Faerie once. If you could do so again, and on a regular basis - say, once or twice a month for a year? - that would definitely be something worth paying a bit of blood for.
You consider it. Going back to Faerie to hunt is, at the moment, a little impractical. While you do know the Gate Spell now, you don't currently possess a planar focus for Faerie, and although you could likely acquire one through your contacts in the Fae realm - Lady Chloe comes to mind, as does Vira - you'd have to trade something of equal or greater value in exchange. You really shouldn't be making deals with Vira when you already have one outstanding agreement that has yet to be concluded, and Lady Chloe is going to be busy with that Fae Lord in the very near future, which is a mess you don't want any part of.
Calling up Navi to taxi you to Faerie is an option, but not a particularly appealing one. More so because of the time you'd have to put into hunting personally than anything else... but on the other hand, you DO know a couple of Fae hunters who have proven amenable to working for food. Between your stash of Island Pork products and ability to conjure feasts on demand, Kat and Ulfr might be willing to do some hunting on your behalf.
There's a certain symmetry to the idea of trading Earth food for Faerie food.
You consider the Memorian Gate for a moment, but decide that you shouldn't make any promises involving that thing until the entire matter is resolved. While you are hoping to make some use of the pre-existing portal and the attached fortress in Faerie, for all you know, Mars may be planning to seal them both once he's brought all of his followers to their final rest.
All of these options have one thing in common, and that is the fact that you'll have to consult with one or more third parties before you can give Grack a definite answer - actually, make that two things, as you'll need some time to sort out the details.
Still, will you tell Grack you'll consider his counter-offer? Or would you rather make this sale of snake parts a one-time thing?
You tell Grack that you don't have regular access to Faerie yourself right now, explaining that the "snake hunt" was an opportunity that came up while you were repaying a favor to Briar's mother.
"And Alex not want to go in debt with Great Fairy," Grack concludes, nodding.
"Not if I can reasonably avoid it," you agree.
"Good habit to get into."
While you will definitely keep his offer in mind, and will get in touch with him again if and when you get regular access to Faerie - which is more likely than not, you add - it would be best if you made this deal for Fae meat a one-time thing, cash up front.
Grack grins at that and reaches into his satchel, pulling out wads of greenbacks bound together with rubber bands.
"Grack not get chance to use cash in person often," he explains, as he counts out bills. "Get deliveries arranged through Boss, trade favors or pay silver and gold to others like back home. Grack not MIND any of that, but like to use dollars when can. Make Grack feel more American."
...
Some haggling over the exact price of the meat occurs. You aren't entirely clear on what the going price of mundane snake meat is, but your dad picks up decent quality steaks for less than ten dollars a pound. Given the exotic nature of the meat, tripling the price seems fair.
Grack laughs at "funny joke," and offers you half that.
You remind him that it is "meat from home," and ask where else he can to find someone willing to sell him something like that on short notice? Then you set the price at $27.50 per pound.
Grack counters by asking where YOU are going to find someone willing to buy a whole giant snake off you, and raises his offer to $17.50.
"The thing tried to broil me alive, which as a troll, I think you'd have some sympathy for! Twenty-five dollars."
"Alex seem fine to Grack, so why complain? Besides, Grack know magic people, and if Alex say he NOT cut big magic snake up for magic parts, Grack laugh at him again. Twenty dollars."
"Twenty-two-fifty, and not a penny less!"
"Deal!" There is a pause. "How much snake Alex got, again?"
Some quick calculations ensue. Three hundred pounds of snake bits at $22.50 a pound comes to... $6,750.
Grack not only has enough cash to cover that, he even puts some of the bills he took out BACK in his bag.
Sold Snake Parts
Gained $6,750
Retained Alboa's Blood
You spend the next few minutes transferring the juicier Snake Parts to Grack's coolers, canceling the Spell to Shrink Items for each section as you go and making sure nothing spills out in the process. After a while, it becomes clear that despite Grack's foresight in acquiring two rather large ice chests, as well as the fact that the bones don't really need to be kept cool and hence can be left in Grack's carryall, you still aren't going to have enough room for all the meat. There's a good twenty pounds of meat left over.
"Grack think Grack have dinner under the sky tonight," the troll announces, looking around at his place. "It nice evening, not look like clouds. Alex and Briar care to join Grack?"
...
Um.
On the one hand, it would be rude to refuse.
On the other hand, you only ate lunch a couple of hours ago, so you really aren't that hungry.
Also, snake. RAW snake. Raw FAERIE snake.
"...you like the color, don't you?"
"Green popular with many trolls," Grack admits without a moment's hesitation. "Not ice trolls - they like white - and Grack think city trolls more fond of grey, but most others."
"I could eat," you admit, before turning to your partner. "What about you, Briar? Up for a cultural experience?"
"Well, if it's Grack offering to share, I suppose I have to." Your partner settles down on the ground for a moment, and with a thrum of magic, assumes her human disguise. "But I am going to have to insist on cooking my own meat. Sorry, Grack."
"Grack understand," the troll replies, waving off the apology. "Grack know small people get sick sometimes from eating raw meat. Grack not sure WHY it happen, but Grack know it does. Grack be poor host if Grack insist guests not cook meat."
"For my part," you announce, "I think I will try the meat raw."
With a couple of precautions, you mentally add, before proposing that you conjure up a few beanbag chairs. Grack has no objection to this-
"Grack have beanbag chair at home. Well, Grack say 'chair,' but it sold as 'couch.' Still, good size for Grack."
-and you get started on the Spell of Creation. The limitations of the spell make it a little tricky to accommodate three people - one of them a troll - with a single casting, but by shortening the duration a step and applying some additional mana on top of that, you have enough power to pull three modest-quality cushions of suitable size into being.
While you're doing that, Grack starts dividing the "leftover" meat into three servings: two of these, which come to about a pound of meat each, he places atop the lid of one of the coolers; the rest, he simply leaves on top of the other box.
At this point, Briar decides to contribute something as well. She wanders among the nearby trees for a bit, touching a branch here, a part of the trunk there, and when she returns, she has an assortment of simple wooden utensils and leafy napkins - though only the latter includes troll-sized examples. Another trip adds three wooden drinking bowls, which your partner fills with clear water.
When you've finished with the chairs, you quietly slip in a quick Spell to Delay Poison, followed by a Spell of Persistent Vigor. Just in case.
Without further ado, everyone settles in to eat.
...
Huh. You were expecting it to taste like chicken, but it's kind of like fish.
You find that it takes some effort to get the first few bites of snake meat down, but your prior experience with sushi kicks in, after which you kind of start to enjoy it. Briar seems to have an easier time of things, having carefully channeled a bit of Fire Magic over, around, and through her serving.
Grack eats with his hands, great gulping bites of serpent-flesh disappearing down his maw. For all that, though, he's neat about it: no food or saliva goes flying; he chews with his mouth closed; and he isn't so focused on filling his stomach that he can't spare the time to speak.
Case in point, when you inquire if Grack has any plans to gain American citizenship, he responds that his boss got him a worker's visa.
"Grack not sure why humans need little pieces of paper and plastic, or want everyone else to have some, but Grack guest in this country, so try to fit in." He pauses, and chuckles. "Also, look on camera man's face when Grack show up for photo was funniest thing Grack seen in months."
"He freaked out?" you guess.
Grack nods. "Not scream or faint, just stare up at Grack and say something about not getting paid enough."
...hang in there, Camera Man.
Is there anything you want to discuss with Grack over your mid-afternoon snake?
It's tempting to ask for a troll's perspective on life in the Big Apple, particularly regarding how Grack ended up living here in the first place, and whether or not he knows anyone else who might be interested in acquiring goods from Faerie. However, you just got done telling Grack that you don't have easy access to his home plane, so asking about the latter might give the wrong impression, and inquiring about his personal history might still be presuming a bit much.
Instead, you just ask how Grack is enjoying living in New York.
"It like living on mountain," Grack muses. "It have its ups and downs."
"Such as?"
"Grack like having indoor heating," he explains. "Warmth with no fire is wonderful thing. Also, stories everywhere. Grack still learning to read human, and have to be very careful with books and newspaper, but television? Amazing. Wrestling fun to watch, even if Grack could take them all with one arm cut off, nature channel show all kinds of animals Grack like to eat someday, and fantasy and science fiction shows fun, especially the parts writers get wrong - except for shows about vampires," Grack adds, frowning. "Grack not understand why there so many of those, and Grack really not appreciate them making corpse-demons pretty or good guys."
Yeah, you have complaints about that sub-genre yourself. Even the best shows tend to ignore the complex and varied nature of the many kinds of vampire, and just lump them all together under one category - usually undead, which just sends all kinds of problematic messages.
Trying to get your mind off of that, you ask, "I suppose the fact that everything is built to human scale is one of the downs?"
"Not as much as Alex might think. Grack like high ceilings, of course - apartment have one - but trolls used to living in caves, and caves have low ceilings and narrow passages. Trolls also used to ducking in forests." He rubs his forehead as if in remembrance, and sheepishly adds, "Some branches VERY strong."
...huh. If you think about it like that...
"Trolls would also be used to staying hidden a lot, wouldn't they?" you muse.
"That depend on troll," Grack replies. "Grack think it best way to hunt, though, so staying out of sight of city humans? Once Grack get used to everything being made of stone and having lights everywhere, it nothing new. Harder to get used to ACTING like hunting, but not ACTUALLY hunting," he admits, "but Grack understand concept of 'self-control,' and what happen to troll who not have any."
Gained Cryptozoology B
Grack goes on to admit that, even leaving humans out of it, the lack of real hunting opportunities is a definite downside to city life. Sure, there are birds, rats, and stray or feral pets, but they're all too small to really be worth the effort it would take to catch them, and a sudden troll-sized dent in their populations would draw attention anyway.
Well, maybe not the rats, but the ones in Grack's neighborhood have figured out that he can't follow them into tight spaces.
"Also, Grack think there might be witch using rats as familiars," the troll confides. "One swarm act VERY suspicious, always show up and WATCH Grack when he near certain part of town." You are treated to the sight of a nine-foot-tall eating machine shuddering. "It creepy."
Gained Local Knowledge (New York) F (Plus) (Plus)
Eventually, the meal ends. You compliment Grack on his hospitality, and do your best to express your gratitude without coming off as too self-congratulatory about the quality of the snake meat, or pricking any Fae troll sensibilities.
Grack says, "We eat again sometime," then gathers up his coolers of meat on the scale and heads off.
Briar puts the wooden forks, knives, and cups back where - and most likely AS - she got them, then returns to her usual size.
With that, the two of you teleport home.
Your father is aware that you recently killed a "magical snake" and brought its plushified corpse home to render down for reagents. Once you'd reassured him that you weren't planning on stuffing the corpse, he seemed okay with it, but you think if you mentioned that you'd eaten snake, so soon after that event, your old man would suspect the connection and start asking questions.
You don't want to risk some of those questions being about how big Alboa actually was, because you know that would make your parents worry, and you definitely don't want them to think you're taking up hunting because you aren't getting enough to eat at home, or something silly like that.
Better to let the matter lie for awhile, at least until your dad is less likely to associate "snake Alex ate" with "snake Alex killed." Once he's had enough time for the latter memory to dim a bit, you think you'll be able to mention being invited to lunch-slash-dinner with an associate and being served snake in the process without raising any suspicions.
Eyebrows, maybe, but not suspicions.
That said, if the subject ever comes up? Snake meat has your vote.
...though next time, you think you might prefer it cooked. And maybe seasoned.
The house is still empty when you return, and given how your earlier attempt to read in the stillness didn't work out, you don't try for a repeat, instead spending the next hour or so in the backyard, playing with Moblin and checking on your plants. You've cleaned your hands and just started considering a meditation session when you hear the family car pulling in out front; when you head around the house, you find that your mother and Zelda are in the car with your father, and they've got tonight's take-out dinner with them besides.
"We swung by Happy Burger," your dad explains as he exits the car. "Got you your usual."
Said usual being the eponymous Happy Burger (from the adult menu), with a side of medium fries and a Coke.
Normally, you can scarf all of that down in under ten minutes, but today you find yourself taking it slower, considering the flavor and texture of the quarter-pound all-beef patty and how it compares to the near-pound of snake meat you ate a bit less than two hours earlier.
Definitely going to have to try cooked snake at some point.
Much of the hour following dinner is taken up entertaining Zelda, who has been chattering excitedly almost non-stop since your folks picked her up from her play-date, or so you're informed. Between her busy day and the fact that she skipped her usual afternoon nap, you aren't surprised to see her starting to look tired by a quarter to seven; by a quarter-after, she's tucked up next to Mom on the couch, yawning and grumbling that she's not sleepy and doesn't have to go to bed; and about ten minutes after that, she's out like a light.
Fortunately, your folks thought ahead and had Zelda brush her teeth and change into her pajamas right after dinner, so there's no problem just putting her straight to bed.
You start reading after that, and find that it goes rather easier now that everyone is home and within your sensory range, awake or asleep.
As predicted, you need about an hour to finish the last chapters of Weave of Magic. You sit there afterwards, turning over the closing remarks and the greater topics discussed in the book in your head.
Overall, the book gave you the impression of having been written for those whose magical talents were either only equal to or less impressive than their skills at working fabric, needle, and thread, or perhaps were one and the same. The Spells of Creation and Fabrication, for example, were only discussed briefly and in theoretical terms, with a distinct tone of being a goal to shoot for, but not one it was necessary or even likely to achieve.
But if raw power was largely ignored, precision was very much emphasized, to the point where you can see the recommended control exercises having done you some good, if you'd found the book a year earlier. And while those lessons can't help you now, the same cannot be said of the applications FOR that fine control.
It's amusing to realize that, while Weave of Magic discussed relatively conventional applications for magical textiles, from hobby-work and simple repair jobs to professional clothier or item crafter, there are elements that you could easily adapt to more... exotic fields.
Gained Crafts D (Plus) (Plus)
Gained Trapbreaking F (Plus)
Gained Trapmaking F (Plus) (Plus)
Gained Webweaving F (Plus) (Plus) (Plus)
You'll need to practice, of course, and with that in mind, you head to your room to continue a little exercise the book recommended.
When your father walks down the hall half an hour later, heading for the bathroom, he pauses in front of your door, takes in the sight of the needles clicking away as you weave mundane yarn and glowing mana together, and shakes his head.
"Still can't get the picture of you as a little old granny out of my head, Alex. Sorry."
Pitching your voice to sound like an old woman's, you menacingly reply, "Watch yourself, Sonny Jim, or I'll make you a scarf - or a sweater! And THEN you'll be sorry!"
And then you let out your best cackle.
Tony snorts, shakes his head, and goes on his way; you go back to your practice.
Knitting needles were frustrating to work with at first, but once you get used to them, the repeated motions and soft, steady clacking are oddly soothing. You could almost meditate this way, if you weren't channeling mana the entire time...
Gained Dexterity D (Plus) (Plus) (Plus)
You keep that up until your parents turn in, after which you read Twentieth Century Sorcery until around midnight, when you call it a night yourself.
The next morning, you rise at your usual pre-dawn time, sneak down into your Mirror Hideaway, and call up Batreaux for a few hours' worth of spell practice. Given your recent focus on learning high-level magic and the limitations on the amount of ambient energy you can pull from the Hideaway's enclosed, artificial space, this session leans fairly heavily towards the theoretical side, but you do make some progress towards learning the Spell of Foresight and the Spell to Walk Through Space. There isn't really room enough in the small, mirror-walled chamber to practice the latter, but the fact of the matter is that it's merely another sort of teleportation, and you've got plenty of practice with that type of magic.
Expertise in Summoning Magic or no, though, it's pretty clear at this point that you're not going to master the Lesser Spell to Create A Demiplane before this weekend. It's not a question of skill, nor one of material resources, as Batreaux provided the planar travel you needed to create the variant planar key required as focuses. Attuning one of those forked rods to a plane that doesn't exist yet was an interesting experience, requiring the potion that the key steeped in to not only spend a month of (relative) time on the greater plane the demiplane will be anchored to, but also a dose of your blood. The underlying theory is that the rod is attuned to the plane-that-isn't through its connection to you, the creator-to-be.
On that note, which plane did you choose as the eventual site of your private planar refuge?
The problem with Create Demiplane is simply that finding the time to perform a two-hour ritual every time you want to practice the spell is very, very difficult with your current schedule. The higher versions of the spell, which take two and three times as long to cast, are going to be even more annoying in that regard, even if learning a straight upgrade of a known spell is generally easier than learning a wholly new magic from scratch.
Following your morning practice, you head up to the kitchen for a slightly late breakfast, then go clean up, dress, and head out for New York.
If having a secret base on a different plane of existence is a good thing, it follows that having a second refuge on another plane entirely would be even better.
Granted, by that reasoning, a THIRD hideout located on yet ANOTHER plane would be better still, but the Spell to Create A Demiplane is only designed to create domains within the Astral and the Ethereal Planes. Kind of a shame, because you were vaguely curious about setting up a base on the Plane of Shadow...
Well, maybe another time.
For now, you have the necessary focuses for two demiplanes.
Spent 10 gp
Gained Planar Keys (Astral and Ethereal Demiplanes)
Arriving in New York around one in the afternoon, local time, you find the street around the Arcana Cabana markedly less busy than they were yesterday. It makes sense: then, you got here just as people were starting to take their lunch breaks; and now, you've arrived after most of them have gone back to work.
Not ALL of them, you absently note, waiting for one car to pass before you cross the street, but most.
The door rings as you enter, and Dave's voice- does NOT greet you from behind the register, instead echoing from among the stacks.
"Hello, and - ugh - welcome to the Arcana Cabana - gah - home of a thousand wonders, mysteries, and - no, no, don't fall, don't fall - home of a thousand wonders, mysteries, and enigmas for the mystical connoisseur and please stop, I will lose my allowance for a year if you break-!"
...wow. What the heck is going on back there?
"Your sales pitch needs work, Dave," Balthazar sighs from somewhere else in the cluttered room.
"It won't. Stop. Shaking!"
Once more, you hear a faint chorus of phantom laughter. Some of it's coming from the bound books, but you're pretty sure a few of the less heavily secured items on the shelves are joining in as well.
"Pat the nose to calm it down," the senior sorcerer calls back to his student, as he steps into view. "Ah. Welcome back, Alex."
"Which nose?" Dave asks urgently. "It has four!"
"Whichever one you can most easily reach without knocking it over," goes the reply. Turning back to you, Balthazar adds, "I presume you have the Bow?"
"I do." And you prove it by taking the Grimstalker's Bow out of your pocket, and handing it off to Mr. Blake.
"Now this is the kind of work you don't see much of anymore," Balthazar says appreciatively, as he takes the Fae-crafted weapon from you and turns it over slowly.
"The enchanted bow, or the fact that it's Faerie work?"
"Both," he admits. "Even the Fae have basically stopped equipping their Earthly agents with enchanted bows. It makes sense: the training to use a bow, much less in combat, just takes too long; even a shortbow is big enough that it's hard to hide, to say nothing of the arrows; and guns are easier to use, harder for the target to dodge, and generally deal a lot more damage. Magic can make up for a lot of those factors, of course, but then the archer needs to be gifted themselves, to have the wealth and connections to independently commission the work, or to be valuable enough in the eyes of their employers to justify it."
"And if you're going to all that trouble," you chime in, "why not just use an enchanted gun?"
Balthazar nods. "Granted, getting an enchantment to stick to a truly MODERN gun can be tricky, depending on what it's made of and what kind of history the weapon has - whether that's the history of the individual gun, or of all guns of that make and model."
You muse on that for a moment. "Would it be easier to enchant a .44 Magnum, then?"
"It would, especially if you could get one that had been used by a police inspector with a reputation for excessive force. By the same token, the Old West left enough of an influence that the classic 'six-shooter' can take enchantments pretty well, even if the weapon in question was only recently made."
Gained Production (Firearms) E (Plus)
Following that little aside, Balthazar gives you his assessment of the Grimstalker's Bow. Between the relatively ordinary improvements to its accuracy and striking power, the rather more impressive impact-enhancing effect, the worth of the Fae-crafted weapon itself, and the attendant (if somewhat reduced) risk of attracting a Fae lord's attention for having the thing, he would normally be willing to buy the Grimstalker's Bow off of you for about $13,000 - which isn't too far off from your own estimates of the weapon's production cost. The normal market price, if there is such a thing for Fae-crafted items, would be twice that, but Balthazar DID warn you he only pays half-value for items of "uncertain provenance" - aka, "loot" - and considering that this item has a possible link to a Fae lord, its origins would be less "uncertain" and more "potentially dangerous," so he'd likely have paid you even less.
Of course, since you're asking him to DESTROY the enchantments that make up the vast majority of the Bow's market value, and also to let you sit on the process, Balthazar will not be PAYING you - it's rather the other way around, in fact.
"$2,400, or 24 gold coins," he offers.
"For a single lesson?! You... you MERCHANT of magic! It couldn't possibly be worth more than $600!"
"This again?" Dave sighs. "Really, guys?"
The two of you ignore the apprentice, for he has much to learn.
"That's MASTER Merchant of Magic to you, Mister Harris," Balthazar replies. "And it's not just the lesson, it's the cost of the other services. Though I suppose I should lower my asking price for a fellow sorcerer... say, $2,000?"
"That's still highway robbery, and twice that when you're going to find a buyer for the bow afterwards, you SELLER of sorcerous secrets. $1,000 is being generous!"
"Do you really think the time and skills of a Sorcerer of the Seventh Hundred and Seventy-Seventh Degree come so cheaply, boy? $1,600!"
"$1,400 and not a penny more, you PEDDLER of prestidigitation!"
"Done!"
"Done!"
"Right this way," Balthazar says calmly, leading you to the back of the shop, and then to his spellcasting chamber.
"Not going to use the demiplane to save some time?" you inquire.
"I haven't had time to familiarize Dave with its environment yet," Balthazar replies. "He knows this place, he won't be confused or misled by anything he sees."
Ah. Fair enough.
Before making that sale of snake parts to Grack yesterday, you might have hesitated to pay Balthazar in cash today. As is, however, you've got more than enough money on hand to cover today's expense.
Spent $1,400
When Balthazar starts for the back of the shop, he calls out, "Hurry up, Dave!"
"Just a minute!"
There is a pause, during which you can faintly make out your friend telling some object on one of the shelves to "stay there" and "be a good boy... a ceramic, metal boy..."
Then he moves into view, and is halfway across the room-
"Don't forget to switch the sign," his teacher adds, before vanishing down the stairs.
-before he mutters, "Right, forgot," turns around, and attends to that.
When the two of you and Briar reach the bottom of the stairs, Balthazar has just finished activating the Merlin Circle built into the floor. He lays the Grimstalker's Bow down in the section dominated by the orange-burning, rigid zig-zag pattern that symbolizes the Domain of Transformation, which represents all magical effects that alter the appearance or properties of things, and then steps back into the center of the Circle to regard you and Dave over the low, flickering green flame of the outer ring.
Absently, you glance down at the Merlinean sorcerers' feet, taking in the old man shoes both of them are wearing, and then at your own sneakers.
"Before we begin," the Master says, "Dave, would you be so good as to state our standard training procedures for our guest?"
"Huh? Oh, uh... okay, Alex, it's basically classroom 101. Pay attention, don't talk while the teacher is talking, raise your hand if you want to ask a question-"
You nod. The usual stuff, in other words-
"-be ready to dodge plasma bolts-"
-with some unusual allowances for the mystical nature of the topic and the teacher. Although if your teachers at school were ever given the option to throw plasma bolts at misbehaving students...
"-oh, and no using magic outside the Circle, although" - Dave turns to his teacher, here - "is that just for me, or in general?"
"In this case, in general," Balthazar replies. "Partly to rule out the possibility of interference, and partly because I prefer that a student learn how to do something without magical assistance first."
Fair, and not unreasonable.
