The flute is, of course, very well-made in the mundane sense, seemingly carved from a single piece of bamboo somewhere around two feet in length. It has six finger-holes and a few more holes towards the bottom end, with a tasset of red silk dangling from one of the latter. Although finely polished, the material looks a bit worn in places, as if it's seen long use – or perhaps rougher use than a musical instrument should.
As far as the magic bound to it goes, the flute is unsurprisingly empowered for easier handling and superior sound. Once again, you are informed that a ki adept could extend his energies into the instrument, gaining an even greater degree of control over the tone and volume, while also being able to use the flute to wallop opponents more effectively, like those escrima sticks. In fact, from what your Spell to Analyze Dweomers tells you, someone with the proper skills could contrive for the flute to keep playing itself, if briefly, while they were smacking people over the heads with it.
You're not going to lie: you have a brief vision of Link using this thing when you learn that.
Unsurprisingly, the flute is also enhanced to function as a weapon, if a fairly simple one, with the accompanying durability enhancements likely being the main reason why it's still intact after such use – and from what your audience tells you, still perfectly playable.
The accompanying folder, when you get around to looking at its contents some time later, reveals that the functions of the "ki flute" had already been confirmed by the School and whichever friendly experts they brought in to study it. You also learn that it used to be the property of a martial artist who was doing that whole "walking the earth" thing some fifteen years ago, and had been doing so for quite some time before that – the School's investigation turned up reports of a man of similar appearance and abilities going back to the early Sixties. Evidently, the fellow in question wandered from town to town to city across south and eastern China for most of a decade, then made his way to South Korea by boat and repeated the process there for several more years before moving on to Japan, where he drifted about some years more until he at last came to Taiwan.
This man made a living through a mix of perfectly mundane part-time work, being somebody's hired muscle in the more violent sense, and not-infrequently robbing people he'd fought and/or looting their private holdings. While very much a disreputable vagabond, he seems to have maintained a certain honorable streak: he kept whatever violence he was currently involved in or being pursued by from bothering his civilian employers as much as possible; and once his skills had been bought for some less-than-legal purpose, he remained bought until the completion of the contract – at least so long as he wasn't betrayed first. Which apparently did happen a few times.
The flute was of the itinerant fighter's own making, and something he had with him for most of his years of wandering. Its lack of any particularly exotic powers is likely a reflection of its maker's own abilities, for while he apparently had quite a broad range of skills – martial and mystical, civilian and criminal – he didn't excel in any one field the way a more focused or more naturally gifted practitioner might have.
"Something of a jack of all trades, then," Briar notes.
"Most trades, anyway," Master Vincent agrees. "Though he was quite a good musician, and had figured out how to use that to taunt and disorient his opponents."
Your partner considers that, and then looks at you. "Kung fu bard?"
"Kung fu bard," you agree.
"A what?"
You explain, briefly, about bards.
As for how the flute ended up in the possession of the School of Five Elements, it's a bit of a sad story, or rather the conclusion to one. The wanderer was staying with them, doing some work as a sparring instructor to help broaden the students' martial horizons, and one day he didn't show up for breakfast, which was a first. When they investigated, they found that the man had died in his sleep, twenty or more years of a rough life on the road having finally claimed their due. As he had no next of kin, most of his possessions were sold off, but the empowered flute was kept as a memento and an example of interesting applications of ki.
"We take it out a few times a year for lectures or demonstrations," Master Vincent informs you. "Unfortunately, nobody's ever been able to use it quite the way its old master did."
A shame, but an understandable one. The skills of a bard don't naturally mesh with those of a martial artist.
You've seen reed mats before, in various forms. The tatami used in flooring in various dojos you've visited comes to mind, as does that found in a couple of Japanese homes – though usually only in one or two rooms – but this mat is one of those that's meant to be rolled up and tucked somewhere out of the way when not in use, or perhaps carted around for several hours before being laid out for a spot of meditation or a nap. The weave is very fine, to the point where it almost looks like cloth or some other fabric rather than pieces of wood tied together.
It's also a very unusual color, an almost solid black that is broken by tiny spots and starbursts of white, slightly faded yellow, and bits of red and blue. The overall effect, when the mat is unfurled like the instructors have it now, is very much like looking at a patch of night sky.
The ki aura that your Spell to Analyze Dweomers picks up from this thing is predominantly attuned to Abjuration and Divination Magic, the two interwoven in a manner that echoes the sort of protective wards you'd set up if you were going to engage in a scrying session on someone or something who you felt didn't like you and had the means to turn the effect back on you, or even send some unpleasant response your way. Alternately, you might employ such defenses if you were planning to cast the Spell to Contact Other Planes, to try and control who and what you made contact with, and hopefully reduce the impact of their mind upon your own.
That is, if you didn't already have the Spell of Mind Blank up at the time – which isn't impossible. Some entities would react poorly to being contacted by a mind they couldn't clearly sense, and might just cancel the spell without answering any inquiries.
Aside from that defensive aspect, the only other power of the "star mat" is that it has been enhanced to be very comfortable to sit on for extended periods of time, more so than anything of its sort of construction really ought to be.
Looking into the records for this object, you learn that it was acquired from a rather unpleasant sort who delved into the more esoteric uses of ki, harnessing it as a fuel source for abilities of a distinctly sorcerous aspect. He came to the School's attention because he had taken to powering various rituals by draining the life-force from others, a practice that is looked down upon by most traditional ki adepts and mystics, but isn't strictly forbidden – at least not until the practitioner starts draining people against their will and/or to the death, which was where this fellow eventually ended up going, like many before him.
"So, ki vampires are a thing," you conclude.
"Oh, yes," Lu-sensei sighs. "And they don't even all start out as mystics, although that IS a fairly common origin."
Great.
Anyway, the mat was one of various items recovered from the burning wreckage of the ki sorcerer's stronghold-
"It turned out that another, more traditional sort of sorcerer had a bone to pick with the drainer," Master Vincent explains.
"Ah," Lu-sensei says. "I take it that things got a bit heated, then."
His peer nods. "Explosive, even."
-and not subsequently destroyed as being tainted. As near as their friendly expert could determine, the ki sorcerer had used the mat to increase the range, stability, and security of various long-range communication spells, particularly when dealing with powers not of this world.
In light of that, the fact that the thing registers as clean to your spiritual senses is something of a minor miracle.
After you're done with the starry mat, you turn your attention to the mannequin bearing the damaged-and-repaired robe, which you've noticed Lu-sensei regarding with a certain expression of dismay.
It is, unsurprisingly, made of silk, the material primarily a pleasant cream color, with light brown trim along the hem, collar, and cuffs, and no decorative images worked into it. You could see somebody wearing this garment for training or casual social events, although some of the energy worked into it suggests it was intended for other uses. There is also the damage to consider – while your analytical spell doesn't offer any insight into the cause, the size and placement of the tears suggests stab wounds, perhaps from a larger sort of knife, a slender sword, or maybe a particularly nasty ki-enhanced knife hand strike.
There are no stains about the sewn-up tears, suggesting that either the wearer avoided injury, or the robe was carefully cleaned later. Once again, the way the ki imbued into the robe reads to your Divination Magic makes you suspect that the latter outcome is the more likely.
On that note, the Spell to Analyze Dweomers is picking up a signature akin to a very familiar type of Abjuration Magic, that being the sort you find in the Spell of Mage Armor and other magics meant to augment the subject's physical defense. The effect is not powerful, but it would offer the robe's wearer a degree of protection comparable to light armor – VERY light armor – while also making the robe itself much more resistant to damage.
There is also a secondary effect worked into the robe, one that's very similar to what you've already seen in the weaponized flute and the escrima sticks, in that it would allow a ki adept's energies to flow more freely through the material. It doesn't share the purely offense-oriented nature of those enhancements, by any means – after all, you don't normally hit things with a robe, and certainly not with potentially bone-breaking force – but from what your spell tells you, the ki within the silk would allow the wearer to feel through the material to an extent, increasing their awareness of their own movements, anything currently in contact with them, and anything threatening to make contact. That greater awareness would, in turn, allow for marginally quicker reactions and greater precision in the application of force, making the wearer's evasive and offensive techniques that tiny bit more effective.
The benefits are very minor, such that most ki adepts wouldn't notice them, particularly against the more obvious impact-resistance of the armor-like enhancement. Still, it would be enough to move someone whose inherent skills were hovering just below a given threshold over that limit, and people who weren't trained in using their ki would almost certainly notice the difference.
The records for this robe mark it as the property of a former master of the School of Five Elements, who wore it on and off for the better part of a quarter-century, before he was killed in it during a fight.
…so that's why your teacher looked upset to see the thing.
Anyway, the robe wasn't specifically empowered before that, but after more than two decades of regular use by a ki-wielding master, it had built up quite a charge of lingering energy, and its owner's death was enough to permanently enhance it.
The other masters knew that throwing away an empowered item would have been irresponsible, as even minor magical items have a tendency to wind up in hands that will use them, and they were reluctant to sell or destroy the robe, but at the same time, none of them were really comfortable with the idea of wearing a dead friend's clothes, much less the clothes he'd actually DIED in.
Consequently, after cleaning the robe and patching it up, they put it into storage.
"Um, Sensei?" you ask. "Would you like me to finish repairing that robe?"
The adults in the room regard you with collective curiosity.
"I mean, it's already patched…?" one of the two younger instructors ventures.
"It is, but…" You hesitate for a moment, before continuing. "I'm guessing the seamster or seamstress was… one of the mourners, because the stitching is, well…"
"Kind of apparent," Lu concludes.
"Yeah. And I was just thinking, if you wanted it to be a little neater, I could touch it up so that it looked whole. It'd only take a few minutes."
The three masters in the room trade glances, heads alternately shaking or nodding, before finishing on a collective nod.
"We'll keep that in mind for the future," Master Vincent replies. "Especially if somebody ever decides they would like to honor our old friend's memory by wearing the robe. For the time being, though, it's fine as it is."
You detect a certain amount of martial artist honor at work here, a sort of "showing the scars that you have earned" thing. Which is fair enough.
…did a janitor leave this broom in here, or… no? Really?
Moving on, you-
"I'd wondered where I left that," Lu-sensei muses.
-stop and turn to your teacher. "Say what?"
Master Vincent is snickering, but when you look at him, he shakes his head, snorts a couple of times with barely-repressed laughter, and gestures for you to go ahead with your "unbiased" scan.
You find this suspicious, but proceed as requested, raising your ruby lens once more.
…
It's a well-made and very well-used broom, with lines of ki impressed upon it in ways that make it more effective at sweeping up dust and litter, and in being used in combat techniques ranging from harmless but distracting swats to painful bristle-pokes to damaging strikes with the handle. Again, nothing special, or at least nothing that your Spell to Analyze Dweomers is designed to pick up on.
But the words and actions of your superiors within the School of Five Elements make it clear that this humble instrument of cleanliness – and appropriately surprising violence – has something of a history for your particular lineage. Rather than look at the report, you look at your teacher, expectantly.
Lu-sensei shrugs. "I used to get assigned to clean-up duty as punishment quite a lot when I was young. After a while, I found it had become natural enough to serve as a focus for meditation, and subsequently, for training various ki exercises."
"You used kung fu to sweep floors better," Briar sums up.
"I used kung fu to sweep floors better," Lu Tze agrees, with a certain note of pride. Then he turns to his counterparts, adding, "I did not, however, actively EMPOWER my old broom, and I certainly don't remember ever dying or killing anyone while using it."
"Ng Da thought it was funny," Master Vincent says simply.
"Yes, he would have…"
Does Lu-sensei still practice "sweeping meditation?"
"Alas, no," your teacher sighs. "I fell out of practice in the years between leaving the School and settling in Sunnydale, and while I did try to resume when I opened the dojo, it didn't work out very well. Some of that was down to being master of my own school for the first time and still struggling to figure out how to handle the job, and some was having entirely too much to do: classes to teach; reputation to build; bills to pay; a few last out-of-town loose ends to tie up; territorial and opportunistic demons to smack down; the usual."
"What sort of 'loose ends?'" you wonder.
"Oh, trails and legs that needed breaking so that certain people wouldn't be able to chase me to Sunnydale, debts and favors that I called in to get the dojo funded and built, some grudges that needed to be permanently settled now that I was going to be occupied elsewhere…" Lu-sensei trails off with a shrug. "I thought I'd taken care of most of that before taking on students, but some unexpected calls for help and a few unwanted nuisances did reach me in my first few years on the Hellmouth. Having to close down for a week or two on short notice didn't help with the business or teaching side of things, and it is annoying when you come back to town after a sudden departure only to find somebody trying to sell your place or a demonic squatter in residence."
Huh.
"Anyway," the old man goes on, "once I'd stopped getting distracted by old business and found my rhythm teaching, I did try to take up the broom again, but I soon found that the dojo was too small and had too much daytime traffic, whether inside or passing by, for me to really get a good sweep on. Trying to do it after dark cost me three brooms in a week, thanks to idiot vampires who still hadn't gotten the message, their pack-members that showed up looking for payback, and then their masters…" He shakes his head. "In the end, I gave it up as a bad job and settled for just keeping the place neat."
Well, then. That is…
Oh, hey, an incense burner. Neat!
The design is different from the Incense Burner you were gifted by the Shuzens, as rather than a large bowl with a rounded lid, it's more akin to a cup or candle-holder, a relatively slender, single-footed thing with a triangular cap. It's also made of brass as opposed to the darker, heavier iron of your spherical burner, and instead of a few dragons holding it up, the base is designed like a tiny Buddha statue, with the burner's cap fashioned so that it looks like a sort of hat. Or maybe that's supposed to be his hair…?
Whatever the intended artistic design, the ki imbued into the burner has been used to create a sort of reservoir, which the bonded owner of the device can fill with a portion of their own energy through meditation. Once charged, the censer can consume that donated ki while it burns a piece of incense, enhancing the utility of the stuff in whatever role it's meant to perform.
Burn a bit of incense as an aid to meditation, and the ki charge will help you reach the no-mind faster and maintain it more naturally.
Use incense that's meant to help purify a room of negative energies or corruption, and the ki charge will help it to drive out dark forces the incense alone might not have been able to cleanse.
All in all, a handy little thing, although you do note that the ki reserve is quite small – very much proportionate to the physical vessel – and would only last for an hour or so.
Unlike some of the other items you've seen, this one didn't belong to some defeated enemy of the School or a former master; instead, it was a gift to them from a Buddhist monk who'd assisted a few practitioners of the Five Elements Style in cleansing a demonic nest. The holy man didn't really need such an item, having more effective and efficient methods of driving out evil at his disposal, and there is that whole doctrine about overcoming earthly attachments besides, so he was perfectly happy to bestow the censer on the martial artists, who would make use of it for good causes.
And they have done so. While the burner is currently in storage, the records indicate it's been taken out a number of times over the years, whenever the School have had to clean up some long-term or particularly nasty example of exposure to dark magic, demonic power, or other unpleasantness, and either haven't been able to get outside assistance in a timely manner or just want to contribute more effectively
…another reason to dislike the Hellmouth.
"Indeed," Lu-sensei agrees, "although there is hardly any shortage of those."
True enough. Though on that note…
"Would you like me to set up some undead-repelling wards in the dojo, so you could sweep in peace?" you offer.
"Thank you, but no," your master replies. "Even with the nuisances warded off, the place just doesn't have the right feel."
Ah. Oh, well; it's not like you don't have plenty of other tasks to occupy your time.
The last item that catches your notice is… well.
"Why is there a tea set in here?" you ask aloud.
"You are not the first to ask this," the old master whose name kind of slipped your recall says neutrally.
"Probably won't be the last, either," one of the assistants adds.
They hold off on saying anything more on the subject, however, claiming to not wish to bias your investigation, when you're so close to finishing.
On that note, you run your scan, determining that the whole tea set has been empowered in three distinct ways. First is how each piece – pot, cups, spoon, a scoop of some sort, and a couple of pieces whose names and use you aren't sure of – has been strengthened with an application of Ki Reinforcement that is far and above your own skills, in order to protect the pale green porcelain from breakage.
Given how much a set like this could go for, let alone the sort of personal, familial, or historical value it might have depending on its age, origins, and usage, you can easily understand that. Even the next set of augmentations, individualized to make each piece of the set perform its particular role that little bit better, really isn't that out there, although you have yet to meet somebody who likes tea THAT much that they'd go to the trouble.
For that matter, wouldn't most dedicated tea-lovers look down on supernatural effects that enhance the preparation, service, and enjoyment of their beverage of choice as some sort of cheating, and thus ruining the experience?
But that aside, the truly questionable thing is the third augmentation, which actually registers to your Spell to Analyze Dweomers as an Abjuration, with some Illusion mixed in. This effect, covering the tea set as a whole, does two things: first, it conceals the aura of the infused ki, making the set appear mundane to enhanced senses or common magical detection; and secondly, it conceals poison against the same.
…
Did this belong to an assassin or something?
Checking the attached report-
"…okay, THAT makes sense."
-you are not as surprised as the locals were clearly expecting you to be.
"Most people are more… astonished… upon learning that a little old lady liked to poison her guests," Master Vincent says slowly.
"I know more than I'd really like about evil witches," you explain. "That sort of thing would be right up their alley."
Granted, Koume and Kotake apparently didn't poison those tea leaves they conspired for Gyokuro to receive after meeting her in the Ring of Trials, but a) it would have been entirely too blatant, b) they seemed to like her, and c) the Goddesses were overseeing distribution of the rewards.
Now, if the Twinrova had been the ones preparing the tea, that would be another story. You can't directly recall any time those two actually poisoned Ganondorf or anybody else, but the feeling of recognition and resignation that wells up in a dark corner of your memories at the thought suggests that it did happen at least once.
Anyway, the old lady in question was not a witch, but she may have been a ninja. There were some irregularities in her background that hinted at it, particularly the way the paper-trail the School was able to find just sort of sprang up out of nowhere fifty years back, and a few of her other possessions further supported the idea. Not that the masters have room to disapprove about old people keeping very sharp, easily concealed blades in hidden compartments in their places of residence, but they certainly don't go out of their way to keep poisons around.
Curiously enough, the old woman doesn't seem to have ever killed anybody with her "hobby," or even caused any hospitalizations. Whether that's because she was good enough to hide her involvement or was just doing it under some peculiar definitions of "good fun" and "hospitality" is another question.
As to how the tea set ended up in the School's keeping, well…
"Master Cho was fond of the old girl, and used to stop by to take tea with her once or twice a week," Master Vincent replies with some second-hand embarrassment. "She left the set to him in her will."
You and Briar trade glances.
"…did he KNOW about the poison thing?" your partner asks.
The School's residents can only shake their heads, their expressions uncertain. "He just laughed whenever somebody brought it up."
You review the file associated with each item, comparing the technical findings to your own analysis and questioning the resident teachers about some of the historical and social details-
"Seriously, though, nearly thirty years in Changdu, and nobody ever suspected that she was poisoning people?"
"If anything, it was the opposite; she ran a teahouse for about a quarter-century, was a leading member of the local tea fanciers' society, and offered classes in preparation and presentation on the side."
-and after you've done so, the two younger instructors check the notes they were taking during your analysis of the object in question, adding a few lines of new or just verified information to the existing file. Once that's done, they pack the item and its updated folder back into a nearby box for storage, although they do not seal the containers or open up the vault-like door at the back of the room while you are present.
That unspoken hint is obvious enough that, after you've finished with the tea set, you thank the masters for their time and assistance, and then excuse yourself and Briar.
"But-" your partner begins, glancing at the secured door.
"No, Briar."
"But aren't you-"
"I am, but the answer is still no."
"Awww…"
Lu-sensei follows you out, and at your inquiring look, he shrugs. "Technically, any master of the School of Five Elements is permitted to enter secured storage, remove items from it, or add them to the collection. In practice, visiting masters are expected and encouraged to leave that to the residents."
"Problems with infiltrators in the past, or just with people 'borrowing' things too freely?" you venture.
"Both, at different times."
Ah.
"Anyway, it's less of a hassle all around if I don't give Nielson and his bunch anything to raise a fuss over."
Ah.
"Wouldn't they just gripe about you not helping to unpack everything or put it away, though?" Briar asks then.
"In the absence of anything else to complain about? Almost certainly. Now," he continues, "if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting to get to and ineffectual whining to ignore."
"Have… fun?" you offer in confused reply.
He nods, and is off.
For your part, the remainder of the afternoon passes unremarkably. Weekend "classes" at the School of Five Elements are more about relaxation, entertainment, and socializing than they are about academic or physical education, though there is of course a certain amount of the latter going on, a mix of people struggling to finish homework assignments, others getting in some extra practice while they've got a free period, and more just continuing to do what they enjoy and came here to learn about.
As you'll be leaving tomorrow, you spend most of the afternoon and the early evening saying pre-emptive good-byes to the various people you've gotten to know here.
Is there anything else you wish to do at the School of Five Elements, before you end your visit and return to Sunnydale?
Since you don't particularly want to see how the School of Five Elements handles overdue library books, let alone ones that have been taken overseas, you head straight for the guest dorm after getting out of the storage shed, and get out Part Five of Ki and You for reading and copying.
Given that Ki Control is your second-best fundamental ki technique, right behind Ki Enhancement, the pamphlet once again doesn't tell you anything you didn't already know, but as with other chapters in the series, seeing the ideas organized and presented by somebody who knew what they were talking about and simplified it for a younger audience does help you get your own thoughts on the subject in slightly better order than before.
Incidentally, while Part Five doesn't discuss anything like your Ki Filtration technique, it does describe how physical, mental, and spiritual energy come together to produce ki in the first place, and how it's possible to ease that process by synchronizing those energies through meditation, bringing body, mind, and spirit into states of comparable calm.
Of course, you already knew that meditating speeds up your recovery – and not just of ki, at that – but if you were to attempt Ki Filtration while in such a relaxed state, wouldn't the effects be more noticeable, and mistakes thus easier to see and correct for?
Gained Ki Filtration E++
After you've copied Part Five into your Leatherbound Book, you make a point of finding Amy and getting that copy of Roots of the Volcano back from her. Fortunately, she was able to finish the book this morning, so you're able to hand it back in with the Ki and You pamphlet well before dinner.
This also gives you the chance to see if a copy of Part Two of Ki and You has come in, but once again, you're out of luck, and since you're leaving tomorrow, you're probably not going to get a chance to see it on this visit.
That missing section is going to annoy you a bit…
Since you're in the library, you ask Miss Mei what the School policy is on borrowed books being removed from the campus, and are told that it's something they prefer not to do, at least among the students. There's just too many of them, too few books to go around, and too much possibility of something going wrong. Instructors have a bit more freedom in that regard, and masters more so again, but there are a few titles that aren't supposed to leave the grounds for anything short of a(n un)natural disaster: first editions; rare texts; that sort of thing.
"Secret scrolls of ancient martial wisdom?" you guess.
"I can neither confirm nor deny the existence of any secret scrolls," Mei replies with a straight face and a level voice. "But you are not the first to ask."
You linger in the library for a time after returning your books, looking about to see if any of the titles on hand catch your eye for a prospective last-day read, but nothing you end up not checking anything out, feeling that you just don't have the time for it. The difference in time zones is once again getting in your way, as not only is Sunnydale either seven hours ahead of or seventeen hours behind Taiwan – depending on which direction you're counting from – but you also have to drop Cordy off at the resort where her parents are and make sure your hired Sheikah gets back to the Hyrulean hereafter in good order.
You also want to get a report of whatever… Kayah, was it? Whatever she's been up to for the last week. You aren't expecting to arrive and find the resort in flames or anything like that – it's rare for individual Sheikah to be anywhere near that destructive, and Kayah definitely didn't have that much power, let alone the sort of attitude that would suggest someone willing to resort to such levels of violence – but keeping track of what your called and long-term summoned creatures get up to is just a good habit to stay in.
Some people would argue that you should have kept a closer eye on the extraplanar ninja than you did, but you're willing to extend a fair amount of trust to somebody the Goddesses sent your way.
You're welcome.
Dropping Amy off will be a lot less problematic, as her folks are at least still in the mainland United States, though they would have left Colorado behind several days ago if they were keeping to the schedule that was discussed when you spoke about returning Amy to them. You aren't entirely sure if they'll be in Nevada by now, or still in Utah, but it's something you can check on later.
The point is, you're going to have to leave Taiwan fairly early to be back in Sunnydale in good order, and not just to beat sunset. After a week of eating with effective strangers at every meal, you'd like to have at least one with your family.
After dinner, you catch Lu-sensei and a few of the friendlier masters to discuss the possibility of returning to the School. While they don't mind you showing up to make use of the library or get in a few spars, getting into classes is more problematic. Part of it is, again, the time difference, and how that complicates their schedules – which have to be worked out weeks if not months in advance, given how many students the School of Five Elements has coming through and what the teachers and masters get up to in their off-time – but there's also the matter of how grabbing intermittent instruction on a scattershot variety of subjects is just not as beneficial as a properly planned out course of study and training.
Long story short, if you really want to study here, you'd have to come back for the session held at winter break, which is something you'd need to clear with your parents.
You spent some of the time before supper getting in some practice with your Blessed Blade, followed up by a bit of maintenance. The sword arguably doesn't need the care, as not only does its construction of Hylian steel and magical enhancement make it considerably tougher than a mundane blade, but you haven't truly used it of late – the Ring of Trials doesn't really count, being what it is and all. Still, if the spirit slumbering within the weapon is able to recall those events, it's probably conscious enough to appreciate this sort of attention, and like with other things, taking care of your weapons is just a good habit to have.
As you were giving the blade a bit of polish, a thought occurred to you. You'd already asked Ambrose, Balthazar, and Urahara for their thoughts on the spiritual growth of your weapon, and reached an agreement with the Shinigami to non-invasively monitor the weapon's development over the next year – one of those check-ups is in a few weeks. Likewise, you've spoken with your Hyrulean tutors on the matter a couple of times, to admittedly frustrating results that can be summed up as, "Wait and see."
It's been over a year since you got the Blessed Sword, and a couple of months since you empowered it at your Birthday Trials. Haven't you waited long enough?
That aside, the realization you had was that there was a potential source of information about sword-spirits that you hadn't yet tapped into, this being the knowledge of the Masters of the School of Five Elements.
While you don't know the full details about Lu-sensei's possession of the sword known as the Jade Dragon, or even the extent of the weapon's nature and capabilities, the fact that its existence was familiar enough to the other masters for several of them to bring it up in casual conversation suggests that the School as a whole has some experience with magical weapons rather above the basic designs that you saw during your investigation of their low-security collection.
Lu-sensei hasn't said much on the matter of sword-spirits, but by his own admission, he's not great on the spiritual side of the martial arts. Indeed, part of the reason for this little vacation was to give you a better idea of what the non-physical aspects of the Five Elements Style look like, to try and round out your training in areas where your master falls short.
Could there be something here worth hearing about when it comes to your Goddess-given weapon? Is it worth asking about at this late hour?
"Wait, why are you only bringing this up NOW, instead of several days ago?" Master Vincent wonders aloud, when you broach the subject at the (post-)dinner table.
"I got busy!" you protest defensively. "I planned for a martial arts vacation, and then suddenly, careless witches, surprise guest lectures, talking cats and magical girls all just sort of happened!"
He considers that, nodding at each of your various points, and then once more in agreement with your general argument.
"Would this be that phenomenon of power calling to power that you mentioned in the lecture?" another master inquires.
You consider it, raising one hand and waggling it slightly. "Kind of yes, but leaning more towards no," you reply. "Basically none of the stuff that happened was in response to anything I did, it was just me trying to be proactive and looking into local mystical phenomenon before any of it had a chance to surprise me."
The master in question nods, but then pauses, frowning. "Wait, does that mean trouble is going to come looking for you after you've left-?"
"Anyway," you say hurriedly, "back to my question about swords and sword-spirits and such?"
As it turns out, the School of Five Elements does not have any direct experience with sword-spirits, at least not as your Hyrulean or Shinigami sources would define such entities. What they do have is a moderately extensive catalogue of stories – some legendary, others historical, and several of those attested to by practitioners of the Five Elements Style – about ki adepts empowering their chosen blades to such an extent that the weapons not only acquired mystical powers comparable to the usual sort of magic weapon, but gained a degree of self-awareness. Most of those were just sentient, no more intelligent than a common animal-
"And no LESS, it must be said," a master adds.
-but a few have apparently reached into the realms of full sapience.
It is important to note, however, that even with such transformations being brought on by the use of applied human vitality, the consciousness of an awakened sword is still something quite different from that of man or beast. They don't perceive the world in the same manner, and not just because they lack eyes-
"Most of them, anyway."
"More demonic things with eyes growing in places they really, really shouldn't be?" you inquire dryly.
"So the stories say – though few as they are, every case of such a thing that I can recall had demonic involvement at some level."
…that's less reassuring to you than you would like it to be.
-but because they are products of artifice rather than nature, crafted by the "violence" of a sword-smith's forge and dedicated to the more familiar violence of the battlefield. Even blades meant only to showcase the maker's skills or as gift-pieces to go over a mantle somewhere retain that purity of form and function as no natural creature does, for beings of flesh and bone must pursue multiple goals to survive, whereas a sword needs to fulfill just one.
More than that, though, since they began as tools crafted to be wielded by human hands, sword-spirits seem to unavoidably require wielders. Even those that have no love for human, demon, or monster alike, considering all things of weak flesh as no more than targets to be cut down, or those that possess the ability to move about under their own power, are nonetheless known to seek out bodies to bear them. Some may reanimate corpses to this end, while others mentally dominate their wielders or curse them with bloodthirsty madness-
Someone mutters the name "Muramasa" at that point.
-and of course there are a host of more pleasant partnerships to recount, but one and all, a sentient sword with no wielder to call its own seems to feel itself somehow incomplete or lesser.
This is certainly interesting…
…but you had a question or two.
"Yes?" Master Vincent asks.
"Well, first of all, I was wondering if the School knew any techniques for communing with a sword-spirit," you inquire.
"We know OF such techniques," comes the reply, "but the specifics aren't something the School has a whole has ever had reason to seriously pursue, let alone incorporate into lessons. When it comes to use of weapons, you may have noticed that the Five Elements Style doesn't really favor any one over the other?"
You had noticed. Oh, Lu-sensei has given you plenty of pointers on the use of a sword, not to mention chances to practice, but most of that has either been during one of your various mutual outings or in private lessons; weapons in general don't come up in your normal classes very much, which is largely due to your age group. Lu-sensei prefers to focus on conditioning, unarmed techniques, and theory for the younger students, rather than letting them wail on each other with a bunch of solid wooden sticks or blunt metal instruments, but even then, he has discussed and demonstrated plenty of defensive moves in the general class, to say nothing of his regular use of the Enlightenment Stick. The more advanced classes that you've been attending for a while now actually do use weapons on the regular, but there's always been a certain lack of intensity about it, the knowledge that it's mostly practice for the sake of tradition and "just in case" scenarios.
Fundamentally, the Five Elements Style is about making use of whatever's in your environment at any given moment, and you aren't guaranteed to always have a weapon on your person or within reach. Conversely, you, the elements, and your enemies are ALWAYS going to be there – hence the School's focus on using those things.
"Well, the fighting styles that most often give rise to living swords tend to be those that focus on the use of blades to begin with," Master Vincent continues. "It's not enough to just own a good sword and run your ki through it in training and spars and the occasional fight, you have to have the thing with you and linked to your ki constantly-"
Which you kind of do…
"-train with it intensively every day-"
Okay, that you don't do. Every week, certainly, and sometimes every other day, but not as frequently or as heavily as seems to be implied.
"-and engage in actual combat more often than not."
And you don't do that more than a few times a year. Even then, you tend to prefer magic.
"Without that sort of focus and dedication-"
"Or obsession," someone interjects.
"-or obsession," Master Vincent agrees, "awakening a blade is supposed to be far less likely. I don't think it's ever happened for a member of the Five Elements Style…?" He pauses, looking around at his peers.
The only answers are shakes of the head.
"A few of our more mystically talented members have intentionally CRAFTED empowered swords over the years," one master notes, "but that's a somewhat different process, and I don't recall any of those weapons having held their own spirits, at least not at the time. I am aware of one that did eventually manifest an awareness, but that was after it was lost in battle and picked up by one of those blade-mad sorts; arguably it hasn't been 'our' sword ever since."
There is some grumbling at that.
"Alright," you say. "But speaking of people who craft magic weapons, or supernatural non-magic weapons, as the case may be, would you happen to have any tips on enhancing already-magical weapons with ki-based powers? Because ever since I saw that pair of escrima sticks in the storage building – you know, the ones that channel your ki better?"
This time, the nods of recognition are universal, just a little faster in some cases than others.
"We still have those?" someone asks. "I thought we gave them to that young kalista a few years ago?"
Yes, that was in the file. Evidently the Filipino martial artist was hunting a group of traffickers who'd kidnapped some children from his hometown – and more, elsewhere – and followed them to one of Taiwan's port cities, where he encountered members of the School of Five Elements breaking heads and taking names while pursuing the trail from the other direction. A brief sojourn at the School proper followed, allowing the fighters to recover, compare notes, plan a joint strike against the kidnappers, and arm themselves accordingly.
The escrima sticks were apparently broken in the ensuing action, having been introduced to one too many heads with too much force. In the young man's defense, a couple of those heads were of monstrous or demonic nature – the file didn't go into detail – and the masters on the scene considered the loss of a pair of sticks entirely acceptable for shutting down the whole ugly business and getting the missing kids back, but the kalista apparently felt that he owed it to his allies to get their property repaired and returned. There were some notes scrawled in about "young man's pride" and "stubbornness."
Anyway, focusing on your current question, you are told that the masters are a bit unsure of how to proceed. If it was a pure ki-infused weapon, that would be one thing; they have a certain amount of experience and reasonably extensive records for such things, and could easily put together a lesson plan incorporating such for that winter visit you may or may not be making, or for you to pick up and work through with Lu-sensei on your own time.
The addition of magic complicates things. None of the masters in residence have the skills to create items that blend arcane energies with those of ki, and in fact, this particular branch of the Five Elements School has actually never had a ki adept cross-trained in wizardry or sorcery in attendance – at least not at the level of skill that would be needed in both areas for the sort of work that you're talking about. The disciplines are just too dissimilar for most to get their heads around. All that leaves is a lot of guessing and hearsay, which isn't really useful to you.
"Okay, but coming at things from a… more natural perspective, I suppose, I was once told that slaying potent creatures can empower a weapon-spirit. Do you have any advice on that front?"
As it turns out, they do.
The facts of the matter are a bit obscured, at least as far as the knowledge of the Masters of the Five Elements Style goes, but many of the stories of ki-powered swords credit the lives they took with contributing something essential to the process of their awakenings. It's not just a question of how powerful any one fallen opponent was, or how many of them there were-
"'Kill a thousand demons and become a demon yourself'," somebody quotes grimly.
-although those are definitely factors. Thanks to the psychic element of ki and the echo of the adept's mindset that runs through it, it's the impressions of the wielder's mind that are thought to provide the foundations for the weapon's eventual sense of self and its view of the world, which makes the questions of what you kill, and why, and how you feel about it, at least equally important in the development of a sword-spirit as the power and number of your opponents, and sometimes considerably more so.
It is little surprise that a bloodthirsty madman who relishes in the slaughter of the weak could give rise to a sword-spirit with similar proclivities, but even a good-hearted man who sheds no innocent blood might produce a murderous blade as well, if he hates those few he cuts down, slays too many villains, or hunts monsters and demons. Supposedly, a certain impassive mentality must be cultivated and maintained to avoid such contamination, but the masters have their doubts as to how well that actually works, and if it doesn't just end up producing cold, mechanically efficient killers instead.
All of that having been said, the old men and women are quite certain that there must be at least one other element in play besides just killing something with a ki-charged sword for an attempt to empower the weapon to be successful, some ki technique or simple approach to making the kill that helps to concentrate the energy acquired – because if it WERE so easy, there would be quite a few more ki weapons out there with unusual powers, let alone sentient or sapient ones. Exactly what the trick might be, they aren't sure, as the sword-sects are no less protective of their secrets than any other martial school.
And THAT is just talking about ki-based weaponry. How magic would affect things is quite beyond them.
As an addendum to your inquiry about empowering a sword through violence, you ask if the masters are aware of any local creatures that are either causing trouble or will eventually do so, which might be suitable to, uh, feed your blade in the future, when you have a better idea of how the trick is done and how magic would affect it.
They do not, mainly on account of previous generations of the School having made a point of clearing most such problematic beings from their recognized territory and the neighboring regions, and making sure that no new troublemakers that came along stuck around for too long.
The closest things left are Sir Fluffy – who you're CERTAINLY not going to draw steel on – and some of the animals living up in the hills, and quite aside from the questionable value of hunting mostly-mundane beasts, those animals and their forebears – and forepigs and foremonkeys, ahahaha – have been part of the School's history and traditions pretty much from its founding, meaning the masters would much rather see them left in peace.
As for wider Taiwan, most of the creatures the masters know of are either legendary ones whose continued existence in the modern age can't be easily verified – and which they consider best left alone in any case, as they don't want to be party to starting any earthquakes or firestorms – or else sufficiently protected and entrenched that they don't feel they can give you the names and locations in good conscience.
"Plus," someone notes, "a fair number of those 'creatures' are intelligent enough that it would feel more like arranging an assassination, which… look, I won't say that some of them don't have it coming-"
There is a general grumble of agreement.
"-but getting someone underage mixed up in such things is just reprehensible."
The grumble is repeated.
You can respect that.
With nothing else to say, you thank the masters for their insight, and try to settle any concerns you may have raised with this line of discussion by promising not to run around stabbing or slashing things just for the sake of making your sword grow up faster, at least not until you have a better idea of how that's actually supposed to work.
"I do reserve the right to stab or slash in self-defense and defense of others, though," you add.
"Oh, of course."
"Only proper."
"Wouldn't dream of denying you the option."
"Just don't freak out the mundane authorities in the process, hm?"
"Yes, they have a thing about live steel in general, but especially in the hands of the young."
You will do your best.
The remainder of the evening passes quietly for you, although at one point, you catch Lu-sensei on his way out to another late meeting-slash-party with some of his fellows.
"Are you going to be ready to leave tomorrow morning?" you ask him uncertainly.
"I won't be out as late for this one," he assures you. "Probably, anyway."
You wonder for a moment if you should stay up even later than usual to make sure of that, but something about that idea strikes you as against the right order of the universe. Instead, you let your master know you'll leave a Restful Blanket out for him again-
"It is appreciated."
-and end up going to bed at about a quarter past eleven. Earlier than usual, but then, you don't have any new reading material to keep you up.
Whatever time Lu-sensei makes it back by, he's awake and functional in time for first breakfast, if still a bit visibly uncomfortable from the rapid recovery allowed by your handiwork. After the meal, you and your friends spend an hour or so making last-minute packing checks and saying a few final goodbyes to those who are awake and not engaged in an early class. Once that's done, you ritually shrink the luggage and then lead the way across the courtyard to the front gate, where some of the masters, instructors, and students have assembled to see you off.
And also, perhaps, to make sure you don't work another Spell of Teleportation right out in the open and set off the wards again.
You end up setting up another Private Sanctum in that little nook in the hills, one which will last just long enough for the lingering signature of your ritual teleport to fade out of casual notice. Quite a few of the crowd follow you there, and while some of the younger bunch are just amusing themselves by getting off of School grounds for a bit, the adults at least claim to want to observe the departure for reasons of ki-based academia.
"It was very disconcerting when you all just appeared out of nowhere like that," Master Song Reyes says, harking back to your unannounced arrival last week. "And only myself and Master Wu were close enough to pick up on it. The closing of the Gates from the other day felt… not entirely dissimilar, but also not quite the same?"
Her tone is uncertain, but you nod, understanding what she's getting at. While the closing of an active portal requires just a few seconds, it's still very slow compared to the instantaneous resolution of a completed Spell of Teleportation – slow enough that un-augmented human senses can clearly perceive the collapse of the planar breach, or for an ordinary (if daring) person to jump through the Gate before it snaps shut.
Having encountered a magical means of literally appearing out of nowhere, it makes sense that the masters would want to witness it directly and have those who'd been in position to see and sense things happening from the other direction on hand to compare notes.
You mentally wish them well with their investigation a few minutes later, as you finish your ritual, and disappear from Taiwan.
When you reappear on the coast of the island where Cordelia's parents are vacationing-
*Splash*
-you find that your feet are unexpectedly wet.
"Oh!"
"Ugh!"
"Alex!"
"Sorry," you apologize, as you take a few quick, soggy, splashing and squelching strides to the nearest unflooded patch of sand. "I forgot about the tides."
"Yes, well, at least you didn't drop us in that cave," Lu-sensei observes, as he hops atop a mostly-dry rock and starts shaking his feet out, one after the other. "From the look of things, the water level in there is almost up to your waist."
Everybody glances at the buckle of your Belt of Incredible Dexterity, then down at themselves, silently measuring how high that would put the water on them.
"Yeah, that would be worse," Cordelia agrees. "Especially since I have to sneak back into the resort after this. Wet shoes and socks I can explain, or just go without. Wet clothes in general would get more attention."
You perform a quick ritual, half-Message and half-Sending, to get in touch with Kayah-
"We're back near the cave. Can you join us?"
"Give me five minutes."
-and then join and Amy in using cantrips to help people dry out their footwear.
Your hired Sheikah turns up after a few more minutes, still wearing the "Cordelia" disguise she briefly demonstrated when you hired her.
"I still find it uncanny that a grown woman can disguise herself as a child," Lily Blaisdell comments.
"Magic," you reply.
"Ninja," Lu-sensei says at the same time.
Pausing, the two of you trade glances, nod, and then turn back to Mrs. Blaisdell and say in unison, "Ninja magic."
"Yes, I got that much…"
"So, how'd everything go?" Cordelia asks her stand-in, ignoring the side-commentary.
Kayah shakes her head with a sigh. "My apologies, Miss. You warned me about your parents, and I thought you were exaggerating. You were not."
Amy and Briar both sigh and spare Cordy empathetic looks, while you join Lily and Lu-sensei in frowning. You haven't interacted with the senior Chases much, but the impressions you've gotten off of them and from hearing about them second-hand are not the best. They're both very self-centered people, and more than a little fixated on wealth and status. It's not to the point where they'd forbid Cordelia from hanging out with you or anybody else because of who your parents are, but Mr. Chase has made a few remarks in passing – the sort of thing a normal kid wouldn't notice, and that you've had to avoid calling him out on as a result – that make it pretty clear he doesn't think much of Harrises, when he thinks of them at all.
As for Mrs. Chase, you kind of get the impression that she thinks you're related to someone on the household staff…
Cordelia waves off the apology. "Aside from that, though, how was it? They didn't catch on to you?"
"No, that was made even easier by how little we interacted…"
"And no supernatural stuff?"
"No. Or rather," Kayah corrects herself, "I did notice a couple of local monsters among the staff and guests, but they've been behaving themselves, and better than quite a few of the humans have, at that."
Do you have any questions for Kayah, before sending her back to the Golden Goddesses' Mysterious Afterlife for Hyrulean Ninjas?
You were going to ask Kayah if there's anything not involving her parents that Cordy needs to know from the last week, like commitments made in her name or the names of people the Sheikah has interacted with, but Queen C is already on that, getting a briefing – with some accompanying small-scale illusions of faces – to help her through the remainder of her stay.
"…is it days or hours?" you ask after a moment.
"Plan was to leave on Tuesday," Cordelia answers you, before looking back to Kayah. "Unless that's changed?"
"Not that I have heard, and I have been listening relatively closely."
Anyway, once they're done with that, you thank Kayah for her services and inquire if she'd be interested in doing more work for you in the future.
"What sort of work?" she inquires professionally. "Because if it involves having to deal with Miss Cordelia's parents again, I would rather not – no offense, dear."
"You wouldn't be the first of the hired help they'd managed to run off, believe me."
"Nothing like that," you reply. "Or at least probably not. Mainly, I remembered that Cordy was impressed by how well you were able to act like her when the girls first dropped you off with the Chases-"
Cordelia blinks in momentary confusion and then straightens up, looking hopeful as she remembers what you're talking about.
"-and she said she'd like to ask for tips, or acting lessons."
"…hmmm," Kayah says, giving Miss Chase a considering look.
"And while I wasn't entirely sure that asking you to train an outsider wouldn't be breaking some kind of Sheikah code, I told her I'd ask anyway. So, I am."
"Acting lessons alone would be fine," Kayah replies. "Well, I say 'acting,' but it's a mix of things: observation; deportment; languages; cultural studies. As long as you aren't asking after tribal or national secrets or anything like that, I'd have no personal issue with it. I would need to clear it with the, ah, 'higher-ups,' so to speak."
You nod, having completely expected that. She's technically a divine servitor, after all; it'd be best for everyone involved that the Goddesses work out what Kayah could and couldn't do on the job and then give her the go-ahead beforehand, rather than risk having to deal with local Powers with their noses out of joint because some obscure rule got bent.
"Assuming the 'higher-ups' clear you for it, what sort of renumeration would you want?"
"Rupees come to mind, although they're not quite as useful to me these days," Kayah replies.
"What about a chance to talk with local ninjas?" Cordelia wonders.
"Eh?" Kayah asks, turning back to the girl.
"Eh?" you exclaim, while doing the same.
"I mean, you could put her in touch with Ayane and Kasumi, right?" Cordelia says.
"I mean, I could, but you do remember that their clan elders aren't exactly happy about them being in contact with me, right? And I'm not even a ninja."
"Some people need to learn to get with the times, already," Cordy huffs.
True, but still…
Offer to set up correspondence with Earth ninjas.
While you can't say for certain that it'll work out in the long term, you do like Cordelia's suggestion of putting a Hyrulean ninja in contact with some Earthly ninjas to trade stories. It probably won't come to an exchange of techniques or anything – at least not anytime soon – but just establishing a line of communication to fellow professional shadow-warriors with no reason to be unfriendly is something you think both sides would appreciate.
Of course, there is still the possibility that some huffy old ninja person will throw a fit and refuse to allow Ayane or Kasumi to write to Kayah at all, or that those "security concerns" you've heard they like to make a fuss about will prevent the correspondence from being valuable enough to Kayah to merit payment. In either case, it would be best to have a backup plan for paying her, because as annoying as mystical debts in general can be, debts to ninjas have the potential to be even more annoying – and this one would involve Cordelia, who is not so well-suited to dealing with supernatural debt-collectors come a-calling as you are.
If you were going to be the one footing the bill, you'd prefer to pay Kayah in precious metals, but since Cordy is the one who'd be getting the acting lessons, she's got to be the one to cover it, and even leaving the profits of the Silbern Raid out of things, she doesn't have the sort of loot laying around or coming in that you do. She does have some gold and silver coming out of her part in the fruits and spice trade, but she's been converting most of that into funds usable here on Earth, whether that's modern cash or just local coinage.
Which pretty much leaves her with paying Kayah in Rupees-
"Unless you're interested in herbs, spices, or fruit?" Cordy offers.
"…we may have to talk about that," Kayah muses. "There was a drink here called 'coffee' which was… interesting."
-or maybe not.
Of course, Cordelia will also owe you a modest fee for your services in summoning her teacher.
With that sorted out and no further business needing to be taken care of at this time, you dismiss Kayah-
"Until next time," she replies, with a bow.
*Poof*
-and hand Cordy her shrunken luggage from the Taiwan trip, letting her know how to restore it to normal.
"Also, before you go," Lily Blaisdell adds, as she reaches into the large, not-exactly-a-purse bag she's been carrying-
!
-and pulls out a plastic bag with a couple of cookies inside, which she hands over to Cordelia.
"Cookies for breakfast wouldn't have been appropriate," Lily explains. "But the cooks and I whipped up enough for everybody at the School to have a treat for lunch and for dinner. These are yours – and, of course, it isn't breakfast-time around here."
"Thank you, ma'am!" Cordy says immediately, with a bright smile.
"…you do have more of those, right, Grandma?" Larry asks uncertainly.
"Of course I do, dear."
"Oh, good."
Cordy is already paying you Rupees to do the "heavy lifting" of your little trans-planar trading enterprise, and you could always stand to have a bit more of Hyrule's preferred currency banked for future deals with locals, so you don't see any particular reason not to get paid this way.
…okay, it COULD be an issue for Cordelia if she wants to expand her dealings with Hyrule in some manner, but that sounds more like a problem for Future Cordy than anything else. She'll just have to budget.
Also, you may be feeling a little jealous that she gets to walk off with a couple of cookies all to herself. Possibly. Slightly.
Anyway, as Cordy starts making her way up the beach towards the resort proper, you get on with raising another short-lived Private Sanctum and then scry for Amy's parents.
…
Okay, that's them, but they appear to be in traffic, somewhere, so dropping in via teleport would not be advisable.
"Is that you, Alex?" Catherine Madison wonders, looking back at the sensor hovering in the rear seat of the car.
After a quick conversation with all three Madisons, it's agreed that making a quick stop back in Sunnydale to drop off your other passengers would be a more productive use of your time than waiting for Amy's folks to get where they're going – afternoon traffic in Salt Lake City is apparently rough.
Dismissing your first Spell of Scrying, you whip up another to get in touch with your father and let him know that you'll be "landing" outside Sunnydale shortly, and could use a pickup.
"Who are you talking to, Daddy?" Zelda wonders, as she wanders into the living room.
"Just your brother, calling for a lift home."
"Oh, hi, Alexth!" Zelda waves… in the wrong direction.
Something to work on.
"Hi, Zelda," you call back, returning the wave out of habit, even though she can't see you.
Your sister promptly turns around, smiling and waving at… a point that's still about forty degrees to the right of where your sensor is actually located, looking completely unbothered by her initial miss. Then she turns to your father and asks that fearsome question: "Can I come?"
"That might not work out, honey, your brother's bringing several more people with him. Car's going to be a BIT crowded…"
"Awww…"
"Yes."
While it is slightly tempting to ask Catherine what she would do if you weren't who she thinks you are, there is a time and a place for scrying-related humor, and while your subjects are in the middle of traffic is probably not it, even if it IS fairly slow traffic at the moment.
All business, then.
You HAVE been working on Balthazar's "Car Spell"…
It's been the better part of a year since you first saw the Merlinean Master demonstrate the Spell for the Efficacious Transformation of Automobiles and Other Motorized Vehicles, as well as picked up the book with a copy of the spell inside. You've been studying the spell ever since, and periodically practicing it with the help of a couple of old, half-stripped-down cars more or less permanently parked behind Uncle Rory's garage.
As things stand, you've got a pretty good grasp of the function and formulas of the magic. You still wouldn't trust yourself trying to transform something as expensive as Balthazar's Rolls-Royce or a Ferrari, and you likewise wouldn't care to work with big trucks, motorcycles, or other vehicles on the farther ends of the size scale, but your dad's car? While it's not the same model as either of the near-hulks you've been testing the spell on, and is in rather better condition besides, it's still pretty close to them in terms of volume, weight, and age, not to mention your personal familiarity with the machine and its inner workings.
It's not just all the times you've been driven around town or out to Oxnard or L.A. in the thing, either. How many afternoons and weekends have you and your father spent with your heads under the hood, now? Enough that it's inconvenient to try and count them all, at least.
So, yeah, you're pretty confident in your ability to add another row of seats to the Harris family carriage. With the luggage already shrunk, you could pull the space out of the trunk and leave the car looking a lot closer to its normal size, too, which would help you pass notice in Sunnydale, and help your dad with the driving by not altering the car's performance as much.
"Go ahead and bring her," you say. "I've got a spell that should cover us."
"Yay!"
"You're sure?" your father asks, frowning slightly in a generally ceiling-wards manner that's only about as accurate as Zelda's current guess as to your scrying sensor's position.
"I am."
"…alright. See you in a few."
One ritual teleport later-
*Poof*
-and you manage to beat your father to your usual landing site by the highway, although only by a couple of minutes. Once he and Zelda show up, you have your father stop the engine and exit the car for a moment.
Given that he's seen some of your attempts at casting the Car Spell on those near-junkpiles in the back of his brother's shop, including the less-than-successful ones that saw you having to do some magical reassembly, you don't hold it against your old man when he hesitates or asks again, "You're REALLY sure about this?"
Worse comes to worst, you can put the car back together, and you and Lu-sensei can run into town under your own power.
Fortunately, that proves unnecessary. With a certain slowness that mixes some of Balthazar's original showmanship with simple caution and a wish to get everything right, you proceed to re-organize the rearmost portion of the car.
…
Hmmm. It worked, but the "new" rear seat – which is actually the previous seat slid backwards – looks like it'll be a bit cramped for three people, while the upholstery that you've conjured into the new "middle" seat is of a decidedly lower quality than what was already present. You ended up adding a few more inches to the car than you were hoping to, as well, which leads to your dad asking for a couple of minutes to test out how it handles before he lets anybody else in.
Still, everything is still running, your father finds no issues with the performance of the modified family car, and its appearance is close enough to normal that you suspect most people in Sunnydale either won't notice the difference, or will convince themselves they didn't see anything unusual. You know, as long as you don't park and proceed to unload like a clown car right in front of them…
Learned the Car Spell (5th-level)
"I'mma ride in the back!" Zelda calls dibs. "Come on, Alexth!"
…well, that settles where you'll be sitting for the ride back into town.
Since there won't be anybody waiting at Mrs. Blaisdell's place, and it's located in a residential neighborhood rather than on one of the busier streets in town, you head there first.
Between your general sense of wariness and how slow your father drives at first, a certain part of you half-expects to see a police car come up alongside you somewhere along the way, but law enforcement fails to make an appearance, and as far as you can tell – past the distraction that is Zelda wanting to know everything about EVERYTHING that you did and saw over the last week – none of the other vehicles or pedestrians that you pass do double-takes or stare suspiciously after your magically modified car.
Whatever the reason, you get to Lily's house without incident, and when Larry decides to get out with her and have his parents come pick him up, this leads to a bit of a production as everybody else gets out of the car. You unshrink the Blaisdells' luggage in the middle seat before passing the suitcases out to your dad and Larry, and Zelda "helpfully" runs around the yard while you hang back by the car, take a quick look around to make sure nobody's paying attention, and then revert the transformation.
There is a slight creaking and clicking as the frame of the car sheds the extra inches, while the half-conjured, half-transmuted middle seats melt out of existence to allow the rear ones to return to their original place. It takes only seconds, compared to the previous alteration – which might explain the noise, come to think of it, however minor it might be – and when it's done, the car appears to be completely back to normal.
With that settled, you hurry over to the door to say goodbye to Larry and Lily-
"Cookieth!?"
-and claim your share of the final spoils of the Taiwan trip.
Not only does Lily hand small bags of two cookies apiece to you and Amy, but thanks to that particular foresight that comes with being a grandmother, she has a bag waiting for Zelda, too.
"What do we say, Zelda?" your father says.
"Thankth, Mithuth Lily!"
After that, dropping off Lu-sensei is far less interesting except for the part where you brought up that offer to scry on and prank that one "humorous" master.
"Before you go, Sensei," you say, as the old man is getting out of the car.
"Yes?"
Mindful of the little ears in the car, you say, "Regarding our plans with Master Ng Da?"
Calling it a "plan" is being generous, as it's really more of an "objective" at this point, but the former word is nice and neutral and easily dismissed as harmless, whereas the latter carries a certain context of… targeting.
"Ah, yes," Lu-sensei murmurs. "We did leave before getting a chance to attend to that, didn't we? Hmmm… did you not mention having an appointment in the coming weeks? For a fitting?"
Your father gives you a curious look at this, but does not interrupt.
"The First of August, yes," you reply. "Did you want to take care of things then?"
"It seems most convenient all around. I actually have the information you asked for, so I'll set it aside and make a note on my calendar."
That works, then.
Saying goodbye, your family departs.
"So, what's this about a fitting?" your dad asks.
"Okay, so, there was a martial arts convention in one of the towns near the School for a couple of the days we were there, and one of the exhibits that caught my attention had a lot of outfits on display…"
Following this, you return to Casa de Harris, with Amy accompanying you. Once indoors, you ask Zelda if she's willing to help you out by taking your still-shrunken luggage upstairs for you, while you go down to the basement to see if Amy's parents have reached their destination.
"Can I unthrink it?" Zelda asks immediately.
"I don't know. Can you?"
Zelda regards you with a blank expression. "I don't know how, that'th why I athked, thilly."
…looks like your attempt at word-play went over Zelda's head, and right into her verbal racket.
"Yes, Zelda, you MAY take my luggage upstairs and unshrink it. Amy, do you mind going with her and telling her how it's done?"
"Not at all."
"Yay!"
Also, there is a very important question that needs prompt answering: will you have a cookie?
Cookies, like most other edibles, are best when they're fresh. It's probably been at least an hour since the batch these ones are from got out of the oven – assuming they weren't part of the test-batch Lily and her helpers cooked last night, anyway – but that would have given them time to cool off and prevent the melted chocolate from sticking to the bag.
Also, you just want a cookie.
So, as you head downstairs, you open the bag and take out one of the cookies.
There are many kinds of cookie in the world. Some are honestly not that great, the sort you scarf down in a bite or two, eating them less for the sake of flavor or texture than for the principle that any cookie is better than no cookie at all, and then subsequently forgetting about them – whether because there's more where that came from, or because you're out of cookies altogether.
Other cookies are more memorable, whether for greater size, better taste, the presence of icing or filling, or some other quality that makes them a more enjoyable eating experience. These, you may take longer to consume than is strictly necessary, allowing yourself to savor the cookie-ness.
Every once in a while, there is the infamous "bad cookie," but you prefer not to think of such blasphemy.
For as long as you've been allowed to have them on your visits with Larry, Mrs. Blaisdell's home-made cookies have consistently been the sort that DESERVE to be eaten slowly, and that's how you'll treat this particular batch – indeed, considering the circumstances of their baking, the argument can be made that you should go even slower than usual, taking a little experimental nibble to see how the use of a different kitchen and ingredients affected the final product.
And so, you do.
…
And in all too little time, the cookie has mysteriously vanished!
You have another… but no, no, you'll save that one for later. Dessert with tonight's dinner? That sounds about right.
Closing the bag up and putting it into your pocket for safe-keeping, you enter your basement workshop, call up your Mirror Hideaway, and step inside to work a Greater Spell of Scrying to see how things are going for the Madisons, and whether or not Amy's stay is likely to be an extended one.
…
Well, they seem to be out of the traffic jam, at least.
"We should be just a few blocks from the hotel where we've made reservations," Catherine tells you. "They have a parking garage, so once we're in there and have a spot, it should be fine for you and Amy to show up."
"So, five minutes, maybe ten to be sure?" you reply.
"Depends on what the parking's like," Mr. Madison says, in a tone that implies he's expecting it to be as bad as the traffic, "but ten should be plenty."
"I'll go let Amy know, then," Briar says, before exiting through the Mirror.
While it would be quicker and cheaper to just open a Gate from your Hideaway to the parking garage, you haven't forgotten the reaction that opening a few Gates at the Archer residence got from the mystical population of New York. While a single ninth-circle spell isn't as bad as a few tenth-circle ones cast back-to-back, you would still rather not draw QUITE that much attention to your friend and her parents. Instead, you can just Gate to some spot in the desert – the old once-haunted house you visited with the Madisons immediately comes to mind – well away from anybody's ability to respond in a timely manner, and from there use a quick Teleportation Spell to take Amy to her folks. Salt Lake City is close enough that even the standard Spell of Teleportation is kind of overkill for reaching it, so if you scaled down the targeting parameters enough for it to be just a two-humans-and-one-fairy-familiar ride, and then made it a ritual spell, you'd at least be able to suppress the signature, if not conceal it entirely.
…actually, if you reduced the spell to a single-target effect, that would make it just weak enough for you to conceal outright, both on your end and when you popped back into existence. So you could teleport straight home, if you felt like it. This wouldn't be viable for your usual trans- or inter-continental travel plans – the Greater Spell of Teleportation is too powerful even when cut down to a strictly self-affecting piece of magic – but for just getting in and out of Sunnydale, or making trips to and from reasonably familiar locations within a couple thousand miles?
If nothing else, you could stop having to run in and out of town all the time. Even if you went with ritual casting, you'd save yourself the better part of ten minutes' travel time each way.
On second thought, things are fine the way they are. Yeah, you might use a little more time with your current set-up, but it also gives you an opportunity to do some running, whether at mundane levels or with mystical enhancement. True, it's no longer enough of a workout to push your Ki Enhancement, but you DO have the derived Body Enhancement technique to work on – for that matter, there's also your version of Altria's Mana Burst trick to consider.
With that decided, you get started on a ritual casting of the Gate Spell, aiming for "(approximately) the middle of nowhere, California." Briar returns with Amy a few minutes into things-
"Ugh," the young witch groans, as she emerges from the Mirror-portal. "I don't know how you two can stand that…"
"It helps to know that this is helping to keep the demons and warlocks out of the house," Briar notes.
"Yeah, but still…"
-and the two of them pass their wait observing the progress of the elder Madisons in the globe of your still-active Spell of Scrying.
When you complete your current spell, you don't activate it right away, because it occurred to you in mid-chant that you aren't entirely sure what will happen to your scrying sphere when you go through an open Gate. Yes, the Spell of Scrying is one of those rare pieces of magic that can function across planar boundaries – if with a little trouble – but that's in relation to the TARGET of the spell, not the visual manifestation on your end of things.
The viewing globe MIGHT be able to go through a portal with you, and then again, it might not, and while you could re-cast it easily enough, this is a good opportunity to see how the magic does or doesn't work under these circumstances.
Thus, you wait a bit.
…
And a bit more.
…
Boy, Salt Lake City afternoon traffic really IS a pain, isn't it? And the parking doesn't seem to be much better.
Regardless, the Madisons are at least inside the hotel's parking garage, which is one of those half-enclosed concrete affairs with a few lights scattered about in the shadowy areas towards the back. If there were such a structure in Sunnydale, you'd avoid it on general principle, even in the middle of the day, but seeing as how Amy's parents aren't tensing up – or in Catherine's case, not weaving any spells – you think it should be fine.
As the Madisons' car trundles along, you pick out a spot that isn't in one of the parking spaces and fix it in your mind's eye for later use; then, you open your Gate to the desert and head through with Amy and Briar.
Your viewing globe does follow you through the portal intact, but as soon as it crosses the threshold, the images within it begin to blur and swirl into an indistinguishable chaotic mess. You half-expect the thing to start spitting static, and while that doesn't happen, the "signal" remains lost, despite a few attempts on your part to find it again.
Letting that spell go and resolving to look into this matter again to see if it's an unavoidable issue or something that might be corrected, you begin your ritualized teleport. A few minutes later, you lay a hand on Amy's shoulder, visualize that spot in the garage, and-
*Blink*
-then you're there.
No cars have come screeching to a halt in shock at your sudden appearance, no guests of the hotel are yelling in surprise, and even if your Sunnydale instincts are a little uneasy about your surroundings, no demons have leapt out of hiding.
You turn and head in the direction the Madisons were going, following the faint trail of Catherine's magical signature. It's concealed well enough that most people and things wouldn't notice it without active spellcasting, but that just means it requires you to pay attention.
You get Amy back to her folks without issue, and likewise return home in good order.
The next week and change are fairly quiet on the home front, with the most significant local event being the day that your father takes Zelda over to a friend's house in the morning, and then comes back to pick up you and your mother so that you can take a trip to Oxnard to shop for a Zelda-sized martial arts training uniform.
It's not that the sporting goods stores in Sunnydale don't have such things in stock, it's just that when you looked through their selection with an eye towards applying lasting magical enhancement, the quality of their wares wasn't up to the task, even for the minor effects that you've been planning to add to your sister's birthday present.
Oxnard isn't guaranteed to have what you're hoping for, either, but checking to make sure lets your parents be involved in a fashion they're more comfortable with than taking a teleport-trip to Japan, and is more convenient than going to L.A. Though that IS the next step and stop, if it turns out they can't help you.
Fortune is with you, though; while the first shop you check out is another disappointment, the second one has exactly the sort of quality clothing you require for your project. Sure, it also costs noticeably more than the previous outfits you looked at, but your parents learned from buying YOUR first couple of training outfits that trying to save by buying the cheaper option doesn't really work out in the long run, at least not with kids as active as you and your sister are.
The fact that your planned durability improvement will make this gi last even longer than it's already likely to is another selling point in its favor, as far as your folks are concerned.
Purchase made, you pick up a few other things – groceries and party supplies, mostly – and then head home, where you take the uniform down to your workshop and spend an hour mystically assessing it in preparation for imbuing it with magic. You can't get started on that this afternoon, Zelda will be home soon enough and want to see you, but as part of getting her friend's mother to take Zelda for the day today, your folks have agreed to look after both girls for a while tomorrow. There's a whole little day trip planned, involving a movie, lunch, and the zoo, and that'll give you four or five hours to work in peace; if you go to bed at a normal hour, make use of the Restful Blankets, and then head downstairs quietly in the morning, you'll be able to get in an entire day of crafting done for once.
You almost NEVER have the time for that. Is it weird that you're making the time, just to make a present for your kid sister?
…
Nah.
Anyway, since Zelda is going to be wearing this uniform in public, even if it will mainly be at Lu-sensei's, you're not going to add any potentially attention-getting qualities to it. A simple boost to its material toughness, some resistance to tearing and staining, and a little bit of added comfort will be plenty.
You COULD, however, possibly get away with adding a simple visual design of some sort, something that would look like it had been stitched on or woven into the outfit…
Images of flowers, kung fu-fighting fairies, derpy little dragons, and definitely-not-actually dead snakes transmuted into plush flit past your mind's eye as you consider the unmarked material of the training outfit before you.
There weren't too many all-white uniforms at the store, most at least being dyed in one color or another, some of them with gradients, and some of the fancier ones having little decals or patterns worked in. Your mother almost bought an otherwise plain suit that was in Zelda's favorite color but you talked her around to going with the white one for a couple of reasons.
First of all, from what the display claimed and the store clerk was able to confirm, the color of the material – one of the less-expensive sorts of silk – is natural, rather than the result of bleaching or dyeing. Aside from bringing the cost down a bit, which honestly probably did help to convince your parents to go with it, the simplicity and purity of the design are nicely compatible with your desire to work a few basic effects into the outfit. The stain-resistance, in particular, will work more effectively with something that isn't already "stained."
A colored uniform would hardly have been a deal-breaker on that account, of course – maybe a little prone to collecting stains close to its existing hue, or perhaps the exact opposite, depending on how the design worked out – but the other reason you stated a preference for a white uniform was that it struck you as rather like looking at an unspoiled canvas, waiting for an artist to paint an image upon – a work of martial art, if you will.
And just as development of one's skill in the martial arts is an ever-continuing journey, so too might be the imagery you place upon the uniform. It would be an easy matter for you to magically add to the design of the uniform over time, to parallel Zelda's progress in the School of the Five Elements, and if you go reasonably slowly, it shouldn't draw too much attention.
More than that, linking the evolution of the uniform's appearance to that of Zelda's martial style might allow you to forge a tie between item and wearer. At the very least, it should make it easier to re-use the material and enchantments as part of a new gift, when the day inevitably comes that Zelda outgrows this one – even magical items can only re-size themselves so far, unless they're specifically empowered to adapt and grow over time, and that's not something you're confident in pulling off, let alone doing so inexpensively.
You're going to float the idea to your folks, Lu-sensei, and Zelda, and if everybody likes it, you'll go ahead with it. And if they don't care for it, then a plain uniform that won't ever lose that shiny newness is fine, too.
Zelda doesn't usually try to sneak into your workshop anymore, but just in case, you fold up the uniform, put it back in its bag, and then tuck that in your pocket until later tonight. Or extremely early tomorrow morning. Whichever. Both? Both is good.
Another, minor benefit of going with a white uniform is that, while it isn't Zelda's favorite shade of gold – which you try not to feel too smug about – or her more recent interest in blue – which you try not to think too hard about – it doesn't clash with either of those colors, or at least not most of their hues. Some of the lighter shades of blue don't look so good against white, and neither does "gold" that's drifted too far into yellow, but the darker versions are fine.
So perhaps blue for the body of whatever pictures you add, gold thread for trim… well, that's a matter for Distant-Future Alex to worry about. Near-Future Alex should focus on the basics.
And so you do. After spending an afternoon and evening keeping Zelda entertained while not so much as hinting that you've picked up her promised present, you see her off to bed around eight and then wait an hour or so to be sure that she's out before bidding your folks goodnight-
"What, you're going to bed already?" your father wonders. "You feeling okay, son?"
"I'm fine, Dad, I just thought I'd get up early to sneak in some work on Zelda's uniform."
-and making use of a Spell of Sleep to knock yourself out once you're in bed.
When you wake up, it's closer to half-past midnight than twelve on the dot, but that's fine, you've still got plenty of time before Zelda usually gets up. Sneaking downstairs – and using your Boots of Air Walking to avoid shifting floorboards – you fix yourself and a yawning, human-sized Briar a quiet meal consisting of peanut butter sandwiches, some fruit, slices of cheese, "cold" pieces of last night's ham – warmed up enough to eat, if not truly cooked, via Prestidigitation – and a granola bar each.
Maybe not the most balanced meal, but you're trying not to make more noise than you have to, or generate any stomach-tempting smells.
Around one o'clock, you head down to your workshop, close the door firmly behind you, and get started.
…
This is the first time in a very long while that you've managed to devote more than two hours of uninterrupted work to a project at a time, and while you aren't finished by the time you hear people moving around upstairs – which happens at somewhere past six, although Zelda's distinctive, energetic stomping doesn't come along for another hour – it still amazes you just how much progress you're capable of making in a single day without distractions.
Fortunately for your attempts at keeping secrets, it's normal enough for you to start the day with a trip to your Mirror Hideaway, so Zelda doesn't think much of the sight of you and a once-again normal-sized Briar coming up the stairs from the basement.
You spend the next few hours doing as little as mystically possible, and once Zelda's friend Cassie has showed up and the two of them have not QUITE dragged your parents to the car to get started on their outing, you return to the basement to finish your work.
…
One nice thing about the simplicity of the enhancements you're applying to Zelda's present is that none of the reagents required are anything that required an unusual means of payment; you were able to pick up everything you needed and pay in cash. Even so, it would normally have taken you a week and a half to set the spells to the silk, if not longer, and getting it all done in just one day is really throwing off your sense of normalcy.
…it's going to be annoying trying to craft items in bits and pieces here and there going forward, isn't it?
Well, whatever.
Gained Zelda's Training Uniform
Spent $1,000
As it happens, you aren't ENTIRELY finished by the end of the day - the need to apply those anti-detection wards will eat up several more hours, but you can take care of that with another "early to bed, early to rise" routine tonight. Tomorrow. Whichever.
When your family come home for supper, having dropped Cassie off at home on the way, Zelda is both energetic and tired. She immediately launches into telling you and Briar about the movie-
"It had dinosaurs!"
-and then the zoo, but you catch her yawning no less than three times, and that doesn't let up through dinner.
"Not used to going all day without a nap, huh, Zelda?"
"Hn," Zelda grunts, rubbing one eye. "I can do it, I just need coffee, like Daddy."
"""No, Zelda,""" several voices say at once.
"Aw, why not?"
"Because coffee is not for kids," your mother says firmly.
"It'll stunt your growth," your father adds.
"Tony."
Zelda looks very confused. "Like… motorcycle tricks?"
"…no," your father says after a momentary pause. "It means it'll keep you from growing up as much as you could."
"That's not actually true," your mother murmurs.
"Gasp!" Zelda gasps, over the words of the actual nurse in the room. "You mean I could be this short FOREVER!?"
"Scary thought, isn't it?" your father says with a certain ominousness. "So don't get into the coffee, okay?"
"Un!"
Lacking the support of coffee, Zelda conks out somewhere past six-thirty. Once she's firmly tucked into bed, your folks ask you how Project: Birthday Present is going, and are pleased to hear that it's mostly finished, with only some safety precautions remaining to add. You also bring up your idea about modifying the uniform over time as Zelda progresses in Lu-sensei's class, and find that your parents don't have any particular objections to the idea, as long as the added imagery remains appropriate for Zelda's age and lessons.
Obviously, talking to Lu-sensei about that is a given.
As planned, you go to bed early again, wake up a little before midnight this time, and head downstairs for a very early, very quiet breakfast, before going down to your workshop. Since applying the wards involves enough work that you might not be entirely done before Zelda wakes up, Briar volunteered last night to sleep in and wake up in time to run interference for you, should it be needed.
Truly, a great sacrifice on her part.
It also proves unnecessary; the early morning hours blur by as you work, and soon enough, you are looking at your (currently) completed project, the task done with time to spare. You're actually back up in the kitchen before the unmistakeable sounds of a waking Zelda echo down from upstairs.
Checking your personal calendar, the next upcoming event of significance is that appointment you made at Sing's Suits, on Tuesday, August 1st. Although Lu-sensei didn't recognize the name when you asked at the Changdu exhibition, follow-up queries to the other masters turned up a few people who knew of the place. It's been in business for about thirteen years, now, and has a decent reputation. No one was entirely sure just far the owners' awareness of the supernatural side of things extended, although the nature of their work – the "Fighter's Fit package" that you're scheduled to get – at least tells you that they're quite well-informed about the world of martial arts. Two of the masters actually do own suits with those modifications, and they noted that not only do the clothes move and breathe a bit better for a fighter, they interfere with ki use a bit less, too.
Not that they hauled out their clothes for you to inspect, that would have been weird and inappropriate, and hardly seemed necessary anyway, since you were due to get a suit of your own so soon.
On that note, how much were you looking to spend?
$1,500-2,000. Sing's better work, although THE best is apparently not for sale to the general public.
Half the reason why you arranged this fitting in the first place was because you wanted to get a look at the techniques involved in making suits fit for fighting in, to expand your own repertoire – or at least to give you some ideas on how to do that.
The other half of the reason was, of course, to get a nice new suit, and since you're most likely to see good results in both fields if your order is one of the store's best offerings, it makes no real sense to go for anything cheaper.
That said, while you have plenty of cash to cover such a purchase, it does represent a significant chunk of your current reserve of "normal" money. Perhaps you should visit Balthazar and see about converting some of your private gold reserve to cash?
There pretty much HAS to be an easier way to do that than traveling cross-country, some more local form of mystically-involved money-changer, but considering it's Sunnydale and all, you're leery of making use of their services – and not even just because of the demons! You've had certain trust issues with the local financial community, ever since the guy Mrs. Blaisdell suggested you pawn your beach-cave treasure with gave you such bad exchange rates…
And with the Greater Spell of Teleportation, New York is as close as anywhere else you might go, so… yeah.
Aside from making a quick trip to cash in – or out – you spend some of the time leading up to your appointment conjuring samples of silk based on the Gohma Webbing you examined back when you were clearing the Memorian Outpost, as well as some of Liantiel's Webbing. You also make sure to magically clean and air out the Silk Clothing the Fae spider-lady gave you.
You DID promise her that you'd look for potential buyers, and Sing's seems like exactly the sort of place that might be interested. Whether they're more interested in raw materials than outsourcing work remains to be seen, but you lose nothing by bringing the clothes along.
Regarding the Gohma Webbing, you've experimented with switching out the morally- and ethically-aligned aspects, so you can produce samples that aren't made of Conceptual Chaos and Evil, but as you're conjuring your Good-aligned replacement variety, it occurs to you that you don't know what sort of clientele avails themselves of Sing's Suits' services. There are plenty of people who could use a good suit that wouldn't be comfortable wearing something made from concentrated Goodness, even if it didn't actually harm them, any more than you'd want to wear a suit made of Evil, no matter how good it looked or felt.
Should you bring along some additional samples from other alignments?
Twenty-five coins is a bit more than a third of your current gold funds, but it'll also almost certainly cover the cost of your soon-to-be new suit, with a fair chunk of change left over.
When you swing by the Arcana Cabana, Balthazar actually ends up leading you and Dave to a currency exchange he uses for issues like this. En route, he notes that he hasn't been to the West Coast recently enough to direct you to similar places in L.A. or San Fransisco, but the Merlinean Master does drop some tips on what to look for to distinguish mundane businesses of this sort from the supernaturally-aware ones.
He also generally agrees with your preference not to trust people on the Hellmouth with your money, noting that it's not just a question of whether they'll try to eat you or cheat you – though those certainly ARE factors to be taken into account – but also of the attention that might be drawn.
"From my previous understanding and what you've said about the place, Sunnydale isn't a particularly large town, by modern standards," Balthazar notes, as the four of you wait for a traffic light to change.
"Official population hovers around the forty-thousand mark," you agree.
"Is that with or without the nasty local element?" Dave asks.
"I think it actually does count some of them, but it's definitely not ALL of them…"
"Yes, well," Balthazar continues, "even without said element, dropping a bunch of gold coins on a business in a small town is a very good way to get a lot of attention. Even if you take the usual steps to avoid being followed, there's nothing stopping the unpleasantly interested sorts from arranging to be there to introduce themselves the next time you show up."
Which you would kind of have to do, if you only knew of the one place to find this particular service. And while you could send Shadow Alex in to make the trades to ensure your own safety, you might end up losing the money or just not being able to get it exchanged – though the latter is, admittedly, much more likely an outcome than the former to your mind.
"And the other problem is that any small-town business can only handle so much money at one time," Mr. Blake says, as the light changes. "Given the sort of funds coming your way in the not-too-distant future…"
Yeah, that could also be a problem, couldn't it? Granted, it might be funny to see the look on some guy's face when you drop a quarter-million in gold on the counter in front of his window and ask to convert it to greenbacks, but you could definitely see them just not having enough currency on hand for that kind of transaction.
In any case, Balthazar's presence and support are enough to convince one Mr. Pfennig to accept your coins without question. He does note that there's a one percent surcharge for the exchange.
Lost 25 gold coins
Gained $2,475
Include one sample of every type. Might as well go all-in and let Sing's make up their own minds.
You conjure samples of Lawful, Good, Neutral, and Chaotic Gohma Webbing, and then the various mixtures.
For obvious reasons, you include nothing Evil. Sure, there's undoubtedly plenty of bad guys out there who'd pay well for a good-looking, comfortable suit that they could fight in, but you would rather not be the one providing them with their threads.
Though that could still happen if you end up selling Neutral Gohma Webbing to Sing's, or serving as a middleman for Liantiel's work… so really, it's mostly that you just don't want to muck around with Evil spiderwebs.
You see no reason not to include the other Fae samples, if only to broaden the selection a bit.
With all of that attended to, there's just one other matter: will you be showing up at Sing's Suits in one of your own, magically woven suits? Or, if not, will you bring those along to demonstrate your own handiwork?
"Isn't that the German word for 'coin'?"
"It's actually the name for a specific kind of coin," the man replies. "The original pfennig dates back to the Ninth Century – give or take – when it was made of silver and ran two-hundred and forty to the pound. In the present day, it's copper-coated steel, one hundred to the Deutschemark."
"…so it's a penny," you conclude.
"The very origin of the name," Mr. Pfennig agrees.
Cool.
Dave takes in the response, as well as the patient attitude of the one giving it, and then ventures, "You've been asked that question a lot, haven't you?"
"Oh, yes," the man chuckles. "It usually comes up a few times a year, and if my father's complaints and my grandfather's claims are accurate, it's been like that since our ancestors first got into the money-lending business."
Family tradition, huh? Neat.
And yeah, you can see why people might feel the need to inquire why the guy they were borrowing money from or exchanging currency with was literally named after a bit of coinage. Some would find it appropriate, perhaps even funny, while others would be concerned that it was a pseudonym, and they were actually dealing with a crook.
Given this new information, you ask Mr. Pfennig if his family business extends to the West Coast, or if he's aware of any trustworthy exchanges on that side of the country.
"To the former, no; the Pfennig Exchange has always been a relatively local concern. As to the latter," he continues, turning to some books on a shelf behind his counter, "I do know a few places by reputation. What location are you looking at? San Diego? San Francisco? Sacramento?"
"Los Angeles," you reply.
In the middle of leafing through one book, Mr. Pfennig pauses, grimacing. "Ah."
"No go?"
"I've heard some concerning things about the business practices of banks and major exchanges in L.A. over the last decade or so," he answers. "I wouldn't recommend them."
Ah. In that case…
You aren't sure if showing up in formal wear is a bit much for a fitting or perfectly appropriate, but giving Sing's employees an idea of your usual style seems like a good idea. That it'll also let you show off your skills and some of the materials available to you is a nice bonus.
You also pack the Big-and-Tall version of your suit, mainly to illustrate that you aren't limited to making clothes in your own size.
After a moment's thought, you also bring the Red Suit. It's not your handiwork, but it IS another example of a suit you wear, and might be worth letting the tailors take a look at.
Lucia would probably be interested in hearing a professional's opinion of her work.
The day before your return trip to Taiwan, you make sure to magically clean and air out all three of your suits, so as to give the best impression. And then, following an early dinner, you get changed, call up your Mirror Hideaway, and ritually open a Gate.
Balthazar just got through talking about the issues that having only one place to exchange precious metal coinage can lead to. If you really want to avoid anybody noticing a pattern to your comings and goings, and also to avoid breaking the bank – or whatever the term is – at such a business, having multiple places to trade with just makes sense.
And hey, maybe when you go to San Francisco, Briar can show you around?
Regardless, Mr. Pfennig has no issue with putting together a list of names, addresses, and phone numbers for you to investigate on your own time – for a small fee, of course.
Gained Californian Exchange Info
Spent $5
"If you don't mind my asking," you say, "what happens at a place like this if somebody brings in a large amount of metal, precious or otherwise?"
"It really depends on the individual business and their local contacts," Mr. Pfennig replies. "There are no legal limits on mundane currency exchange in the U.S., but when it comes to the mystical side of things, converting large quantities of gold and silver can be almost as easy or very hard. Everyone sets an upper limit on just how much coinage they can take from a given customer – in my case, that would be a hundred gold, or an equivalent value in silver – and of course, that's further limited by how much they trust you." He nods to Balthazar. "If not for Mr. Blake speaking on your behalf, I would likely be in the middle of evaluating your coin right now, or else asking you to be on your way before whoever you took it all from showed up to reclaim their property."
"Does that happen often?" Dave wonders.
"Not often, no," is the answer. "But it does happen from time to time, and I usually end up having to replace at least a door and some of the paneling as a result."
Huh. Unexpected workplace hazards.
"Also, while I personally do accept jewelry and other small pieces of gold or silver, many of my peers deal in currency alone," Mr. Pfennig goes on. "And I don't work with larger objects, or those made of non-precious metals. Aside from being even more inconvenient to handle and store, too much of their value comes down to personal taste."
Fair enough.
"And NO magic items," he adds firmly. "For that sort of thing, stick to dealing with Balthazar."
"…bad experiences?" you and Dave venture together.
Mr. Pfennig just nods, once, and refuses to say any more on the subject.
You return to Taiwan about an hour ahead of your appointment, emerging from your Gate in a spot you're reasonably sure will be clear of potential witnesses, while still being sufficiently accessible to the general public to not cause any issues – this being on top of the local community center.
You may have been inspired by your rooftop meeting with the three young witches.
After a quick look around to confirm that your abrupt appearance hasn't terrified somebody taking a mid-morning cigarette break or the like – and it hasn't, although there are some mundane-feeling birds gathered nearby giving you wary looks – you get out a map of Tainan City that you'd prepared in advance, check your current location against the address for Sing's Suits, and then head for the door to let yourself into the building.
*Click*
Huh. Locked.
Well, that explains why there's nobody else up here, and is also easily fixed.
*Knock-knock*
One quick Spell of Knocking later, and you're making your way down to street level.
Thanks to your old ritual of "pay me no mind," the two people who pass you in the building don't give you so much as a second glance, and once you're outside, the souls making up the morning foot traffic are similarly indifferent to the presence of an American kid in a really nice suit.
It's a warm and slightly humid day that promises to get worse, but since it's not yet nine o'clock, you're able to walk to Sing's Suits in good time without breaking into an unpleasant sweat.
The business itself is a two-story affair, the front consisting of a couple of window displays that show off a handful of suits – two Western formal style outfits and a third in a more relaxed cut in the window to the left of the door, and then two traditional Eastern outfits of similar quality on the right. There's no big overhead sign touting the name of the place, just a little one by the door declaring the hours of business, the phone number, and asking customers to make an appointment ahead of time.
You're about ten minutes early, which is maybe a bit much for politeness' sake, but you head in anyway, hearing a little bell ringing somewhere as you push aside the door.
The front room of Sing's Suits is pretty much what you'd expect of such a place. The right side is given over mostly to mannequins in various outfits and other displays, although you can see a number of suits on racks towards the back. On the left side of the room are several rows of various fabrics, set up on rollers for a customer's consideration – you recognize cotton, tweed, silk, and cashmere, to name a few – with the cashier's counter taking up the front third or so. There are some chairs and small tables scattered about, with catalogues resting atop the latter, and you can hear (and definitely feel) an air conditioner working quietly.
"Welcome to Sing's Suits," the young, well-dressed fellow behind the counter says. "May I help you?"
"Hi. I'm Alex Harris, I should have an appointment for a fitting at nine o'clock."
He looks down at something for a moment, and then nods. "So you do. If you'll take a seat, one of our tailors will be with you shortly."
You do so, setting the bag that's carrying your various clothing and fabric samples down on the floor next to it – a little precaution, in case this place turns out to be less magically involved than you have been expecting. Looking around, nothing jumps out at you as enchanted or ki-empowered…
You've already done a fairly detailed magical examination of one of the store's products, and at a glance, the suit that was sent to the Changdu exhibition doesn't appear to lose to any of the ones you can see here in terms of quality. So there's probably not much point in scanning them.
The materials that are on display, meanwhile, are just mundane fabrics – high quality ones, to be sure, but not supernaturally so. About all you'd be able to get from them in their current state are some conjuration templates, and you suspect at least some of the materials you already have access to in that manner would be superior. So again, studying the fabric samples doesn't strike you as a good use of time.
And since you are a nosy pest don't feel like wasting time sitting around doing nothing, that leaves the option of looking through one of the catalogues of the shop's wares. You can see quite a range of their work as it is, but this is undoubtedly just a small selection of what Sing's Suits can do for its clients – the range of fabrics, styles, and patterns is simply too great to be limited to less than twenty combinations.
Thus, you take up the book resting atop the nearby table, open it up, and begin looking through it. The contents are mainly a series of two-page spreads, with a photo of a given suit on the left page, a small patch of fabric fixed to the page on the right, and sketches of various poses or blow-ups of different sections of the outfit, along with bits of commentary about stitching, fit, range of motion, and other such details.
Prices are also included, at least for the base designs.
Despite having worn and even made a few formal suits, not to mention how many more you've seen adults wearing at various events, going through the catalogue reminds and even slightly surprises you about the sheer range of designs available.
You hadn't realized that nine-piece suits were even a thing.
Gained Style D++
While the book turns out to be more interesting than you might have expected, you don't get so invested in it that you miss the sound of footsteps coming from the back of the room. Looking up and around, you spot a middle-aged man coming down the aisle between the coat racks and the fabric displays. Although he's not currently wearing a jacket and has his shirtsleeves rolled back besides, the style and quality of his outfit is no less than that of the one worn by the younger fellow manning the till.
You wonder for a moment if Sing's provides employee discounts.
"Mr. Harris," the newcomer greets you with a quick, polite bow. "I am Zhu Jun, and I will be assisting you with your initial fitting today. Have you a design in mind, or do you wish to discuss options?"
Well, actually…
If you're getting a new suit made, why limit yourself to simply rehashing the look of an old one? Not to suggest that your current suits haven't served you well – because they have, and with some adjustments, you expect they will continue to do so for some time yet – but you weren't a particularly skilled tailor when you put your Spider-Silk Suits together, and the only reason they look as good as they do is because you called on your magic to boost your craftsmanship and touch up the quality of the material.
Such improvements can only go so far, and it would be informative to see just how well your efforts stack up against those of actual professionals in this field.
Plus, you just kind of want to get a suit that looks different. Variety is occasionally nice, after all.
You lay out your basic desire for a Fighter's Fit suit, and then start discussing fabrics. You're thinking something gray on the exterior, with a more colorful lining, maybe of shot silk…?
Mr. Zhu quickly fetches a couple of other books, which prove to be full of material samples rather than suit designs, and the two of you start going through them, with Briar occasionally throwing in comments that only you can hear.
As far as the exterior goes, getting grey fabric is very simple, although something with the particular shade of steel grey that you'd envisioned takes a little more searching. While they do have several samples of pinstriping, none have the faint gold thread you were hoping for.
Maybe you could represent that with buttons and cufflinks, instead?
Shot silk lining is also perfectly doable, and getting it in metallic gold is no trouble at all. Giving it the multi-colored iridescence that would evoke the colors of the Goddesses is more of an issue, however; you see several samples that alternate the gold with other colors, but never more than two at a time.
Getting shirts, ties, and pocket squares in different colors is as easily said as done.
You also bring up the matter of different environments and weather conditions. Mr. Zhu admits this will be a bit more of a challenge, as while Sing's Suits has learned a few things about adapting Western style high fashion for Taiwan's generally warm and humid climate, significant cold is another matter.
Not that he can't make you a matching overcoat with insulation for cooler weather – rainy days can feel rather chilly even when the temperature is relatively high – but he's not so sure about how well it would handle conditions cold enough for snowfall.
Apparently, they don't get that sort of weather in Taiwan very often, at least not off of some of the mountains.
Given your magical resources for dealing with extremes of weather, you aren't too worried about that, and tell him to give it his best shot.
You describe what you want, using one of the existing samples that is pinstriped to about the extent you had in mind, just not in the right colors.
Mr. Zhu says that should be doable, although it will likely add two to three weeks to the time it will take to finish the suit.
He doesn't mention how it will affect the cost, but from the lack of price-tags and such on or near any of the shop's merchandise, you've been getting the distinct impression that Sing's is one of those places where, if you have to ask how much something costs, you can't afford it.
Considering some of the other things you want to include in your order, delaying the final purchase by half a month or more is probably beneficial for you. That should be time enough for the first payout of your cut of the Silbern loot to come through…
You ask if a pattern of alternating three-color triangles is possible.
Mr. Zhu frowns slightly. "It's certainly POSSIBLE, but what sort of colors did you have in mind, apart from the gold?"
"I was thinking combinations of red, blue, and green," you reply.
He continues to frown.
"…no good?"
"I'm having some trouble picturing such a thing in a way that doesn't clash," the tailor admits. "We can certainly try, but if it turns out to be unworkable, what would you prefer as a backup for the lining?"
Three red shirts, three blue shirts, three green shirts, and three white shirts are another order that's simple for Sing's to fill. Asking for slightly different shades and herringbone pattern so that you don't end up wearing solid blocks of color doesn't make things any more difficult, though it undoubtedly adds to the price.
The same can certainly be said of the next thing you ask after, which is for the suit to be assembled with enough extra material for it to be let out in the coming years.
"Expecting a growth spurt, are you?" Mr. Zhu guesses.
"Either one VERY dramatic one, or a lot of lesser ones," you admit. You gesture towards your bag. "I can show you why, if you'd like…?"
Looking curious, he nods for you to go ahead, and you retrieve your Big-and-Tall Suit and hand it over.
Mr. Zhu unfolds the coat slightly, visibly comparing it to the one you're still wearing, and clearly noting how they and the rest of their matching suits are basically identical, just with one outfit built on a bigger scale than the other.
You see the moment that a certain suspicion takes hold, right as the man mutters, "And you wanted a Fighter's Fit… this isn't the suit of a relative of yours, is it?"
Ah-ha!
"It is not," you agree. Glancing over your shoulder at the cashier, you turn back to Mr. Zhu and ask, "Can we speak frankly, or…?"
"Best take it into the back," he replies with a nod, returning your adult-sized suit to you. "We do have other clients scheduled for this morning, and if you're after what I think you're after, I'll need to get Mr. Sing in on this."
Oh, meeting the boss, are you? Well, then.
"Lead the way," you say.
He does.
If you can't design the jacket as a little tribute to all three of the Golden Goddesses, then you have to go with Din.
Darn right.
Hmph.
But Sing's Suits may still surprise you!
…
…no comment, O Foreseeing One?
Yeah, you were thinking-
I don't look into the future for every last little thing!
-ah. Well, then-
Clearly, or you wouldn't have gotten punched in the face by that fairy.
Shush, you!
-ANYWAY!
Mr. Zhu leads you to the back of the main room, which has a couple of changing rooms, a service door, and a hallway going down the middle of the building, with additional doors to either side and some stairs at the far end. You're guided down the hall and into one of the rooms, which proves to be the sort of workspace necessary for fitting a suit, with a slightly elevated spot for the customer to stand, some mirrors to provide an all-around view of the outfit as it takes shape, and of course, tables, shelves, and drawers for all the tools and materials needed.
The tailor asks to borrow your current jacket, as well as the Big-and-Tall Suit, and for you to wait here for a minute while he goes and gets his boss. You oblige these requests, and once Mr. Zhu is out the door, you start looking around at the equipment with some interest. Once again, nothing seems to be of supernatural manufacture or to bear after-market enchantments – in particular, the spools of thread and pieces of fabric that are laid out feel quite mundane, whatever their actual quality – but your senses are able to pick up lingering hints of ki exposure from the metal tools.
Before you can investigate that more closely, your attention is caught by a noise from the hall, as of one slightly raised voice speaking from a position of some authority to another, quieter one. They come closer, and a moment later, the door opens to reveal another man in a well-made, semi-formal suit, with Mr. Zhu just behind him. The newcomer is considerably older than his employee, probably near sixty, and he has the aura of a ki-user, although not of the sort that you've grown used to dealing with. While his access to his inner energies is clear to your senses, it's just as apparent that he's no fighter of any sort, and has developed his skills with an entirely different goal in mind.
A ki-powered tailor, huh? Neat.
"Mr. Sing, I presume?" you state with a polite bow.
"You presume correctly, Mr. Harris," the older man replies. He eyes you for a moment, and then snaps his fingers and points at you. "You were at the World Tournament."
"I was."
"Wait, really?"
"You turned into a giant," Mr. Sing continues.
"I did."
"Well, I called that one..."
"But that is not why you had this suit made," the proprietor adds, holding up the Big-and-Tall outfit.
"It is not."
"No?"
"He was close to ten feet tall in the ring, Zhu. As big a person as this suit is meant for, it's still too small for someone THAT large, not to mention how the proportions are off for a giant-sized pre-teen."
This man clearly knows his craft.
"So," Mr. Sing says, turning back to you, "magic, or martial arts?"
"Both, unless you were referring to the size-changing trick, in which case, that's just magic."
"…wait, are you saying there are size-changing ki techniques?"
Lu-sensei hasn't mentioned any such thing in your classes, and it didn't come up during your visit to the School of Five Elements. None of your martial artist friends have spoken of the existence of such techniques, either, but then again, most of your friends aren't ki adepts. Of those who are, Cordy and Larry are fairly unlikely to know anything about ki techniques that you don't, while Ayane and Kasumi didn't know of any size-altering powers before you demonstrated the Spell to Enlarge One's Self and then gave them pointers on adapting it to their own style. Neither of the ninja girls have talked of other abilities in that vein through your ongoing correspondence, or when Ayane attended your party, but then again, they do tend to be a little guarded about such things.
Ninja, after all.
As for Mr. Sing, he responds to your surprised query with a nod. "For a given value of 'size', admittedly. I have provided formalwear for a few individuals who, while not capable of increasing their height, were and are quite capable of bulking themselves up for short periods – or perhaps, for compressing their physiques for extended ones?" he adds, frowning. "I don't mind admitting that I am, at best, a somewhat talented novice in the field, so the specifics of the ability escape me, but I'm given to understand that it's similar to sucking in one's stomach or tensing muscles, or relaxing them."
…
Okay, you can sort of see how that might work. Changing height at will is something humans can't do naturally, but flexing a muscle does make it look bigger, however briefly. You aren't actually adding mass when you do that, just repositioning some of what you already have, but it is a perfectly normal human "ability," and thus something ki should be able to help you do better. You aren't sure how much help being able to hulk out on command would be in a fight – and you're using the little-h spelling of the word, here; the combat applications of a ki technique for turning into an unstoppable rage monster are self-evident, regardless of what color the user ended up – but there would certainly be some intimidation value, and maybe a bit of a defensive boost, especially if you combined the tensed-up muscle with Ki Armor…
Whatever its uses, you can certainly see why such a skill might require careful fitting of one's clothes. Plenty of outfits would get uncomfortable or outright restrictive if the entire body underneath suddenly shifted like that, and some might even be damaged in the process.
In any case, since Mr. Sing is aware of your ability to change size, it simplifies the matter of asking for a second suit sized for your adult form. This one might end up needing adjustments or outright replacement some years down the road, depending on how much of your idealized height and build you gain in reality, but it should last you a fair bit longer than the child-slash-teenager-sized suit you're asking for.
Of course, they still need to take measurements of both your forms, just to be sure of the fit, so you stand there for a few minutes getting measured, occasionally entering various stances or performing specific movements as requested by the tailors to help demonstrate how your body moves – in general as well as in combat.
And then you cast the Spell of the Threefold Aspect to assume your preferred adult form, and go through it all again.
While Misters Sing and Zhu are taking your measurements, you inquire if they have access to any materials of a supernatural sort.
"I have, at times, come into possession of mystically-altered or otherwise unusual fabrics," the senior tailor replies, while holding a tape measure to your right arm. "I find that they make for interesting exercises of my skills, but are also fairly impractical for regular use in my work."
"How so?" you wonder.
"Cost, saleability, supply, and workability, mainly," comes the short answer, before Mr. Sing elaborates. "Enhanced materials are, without fail, more expensive than their mundane equivalents – if not necessarily all ordinary fabrics – and their appearance and performance aren't always worth the added cost, which makes them harder to sell. That's assuming I can responsibly sell them to the general public, which isn't always the case. After all, not all of my clients are aware of the supernatural, and even those that are can't exactly go around wearing suits that change colors on their own, radiate various auras, or seem to move by themselves."
You nod, seeing the problems.
"Hold your arm like this, if you would – thank you." Sing pauses to take another measurement before continuing. "With supply, the issue is finding a source that can not only reliably provide enhanced materials, but one that will continue to do so for a small-scale and mostly-mundane operation such as this. That's proven to be rather a hassle, sometimes because of the limited number of sales on our end, sometimes because the supplier finds it beneath their dignity, and a few times because they've up and vanished or died."
You wince at that.
"As for workability, some of these exotic fabrics are simply too much of a pain to work with, particularly when there are modern materials that can do their intended jobs nearly as well and for considerably less hassle or cost."
Fair enough. Still, with all of that having been said…
"Have you ever had a chance to work with spider silk?" you inquire.
"Twice," Mr. Sing replies. "On one occasion, I received part of my payment in silk supposedly woven by a jorogumo, though I was never able to confirm that – the supplier was one of those that dropped out of contact suddenly, which admittedly did lend some credit to his claim."
Ouch.
"Some years after that," the tailor continues, "my services were retained to repair a curious cloak whose owner showed up wrapped from head to toe so that only her sunglasses were visible, claimed the garment had been woven from spider silk, and paid in gold to discourage any questions of a non-technical nature."
Hm.
"Would you be interested in working with spider silk again?" you ask then.
"That would depend on the quality, the cost, and the supply," Sing answers promptly.
"Well, it just so happens that I brought a few samples with me, both of the raw material and of some finished products…"
The expression that flashes across the older man's face tells you that you have his curiosity, but he quickly covers that, saying, "Current business first, new business later."
As he prefers.
As the tailors continue their work, you inquire whether or not they'd recommend anybody to provide cufflinks, shoes, and gloves to go with your new suits.
You're told that Sing's Suits has a selection of cufflinks available at the counter, but if nothing there catches your eye, there is a local jeweler that takes orders for them on the side. They can make the gloves themselves, if you'd like to add them to your order?
As for shoes, Mr. Sing drops the name of a place whose proprietor, like himself, does a decent business making formal footwear for martial artists. That said, the older man advises you to wait until your new suits are complete before accessorizing.
"Nothing quite as frustrating as seeing someone ruin a good suit with clashing shoes," Sing mutters. "Unless it's people who insist on wearing loud ties…"
The only loud tie you've ever worn is the one that came with the Red Suit that Lucia made for you, and that's a fairly loud outfit in its own right. So you're probably safe.
Probably.
The physical measurements, which including having you stand on a scale to get your weight – something that surprises you a bit, until the tailors explain how that information helps them adjust the suit – don't take more than a couple of minutes to finish, but Mr. Sing then leaves the room for a moment and returns with several pieces of different fabric that feel a bit off to your ki sense. He explains that the materials have been adjusted in such a way-
"Trade secret," he says, when you ask.
-so that when ki is run through them, the fabric will shift slightly in response to the energy flow. By studying the pattern thus created, he can adjust his work to better-accommodate your personal abilities, or at least the ones that involve ki.
He's not entirely sure how well he'll be able to adjust things to account for magic, but he's more than willing to make the attempt.
You add a couple of pairs of gloves to your order, one for general use that will preserve a reasonable amount of manual dexterity, the other for cold weather.
Inquire about getting your suits "fitted" for psychic and spiritual energy as well. Power may be a concern…
"Not to be rude," Mr. Zhu interrupts, "but just how many different types of magic and such do you have?"
"…at least a dozen?" you offer. "I mean, it depends on what actually counts as a 'type' of power, and whether or not you treat Elemental Magic as one category or a dozen different related ones…"
"I know how to make adjustments that are more suited for ki adepts who work with elemental powers extensively, whether a specific force or a general mix," Mr. Sing says then. "Do you require such a thing?"
"Not when it comes to ki-use, no," you reply. "My current grasp of ki-based elemental techniques is… pretty limited. Magically, now, is a whole other story, but I'm guessing you'll have your hands full just working out a basic 'magic fitting'?"
"That I will," the head tailor agrees. "The good news is that I can accommodate spiritual energy use; it helps that it's related to ki as much as it is. Psychic powers, on the other hand…"
"Those are also related to ki. Somewhat."
"Oh, I can see the connection, but I'm still trying to get my head around the idea that such abilities actually exist as more than a telephone hotline or TV special designed to scam people out of their money."
Ouch.
"And as for that golden energy you were throwing around, I can certainly try to come up with something, but I'm making no promises."
With that, Mr. Sing leaves the room again, taking all the little pieces of tester-material that you've exposed to your ki, your magic, or both. When he returns, he's swapped the previous sections of fabric for new ones, which he has you run your spiritual and psychic energy through.
From the way the tailor starts to frown when you start subjecting a given piece of material to all four different types of energy in sequence, as well as how you can feel each additional type of energy flowing more awkwardly than the previous one, the complete order is going to be tricky-
*Hiss*
-and then you stop and stare for a moment as your attempt to imbue a bit of Power into one of the patches causes the material to darken and crinkle.
"…"
"…"
"…that's not supposed to happen, is it," you state.
"It is not unprecedented," Mr. Sing replies slowly, "although the last time I saw something similar involved a dragon-kin with a strong Fire aspect."
You try to restrain the energy better on your next attempt, but if there's one thing Power doesn't do well, it's restraint – restraint, and stealth. Stealth and restraint. If there's TWO things Power doesn't do well, it's restraint and stealth – and also finesse. Okay, that's THREE things, and you're just going to stop there before the Spanish Inquisition shows up.
You DO eventually manage to leave Mr. Sing with some Power-touched materials that don't look like they've been singed.
With your measurements taken and the materials tested, your current business is concluded, or at least as much as it can be until Mr. Sing works out how well he can adjust his ki-based technique to work with your other power sources. Between the time he'd like to take with that and the delay in getting your requested fabrics from his suppliers, the head tailor anticipates it should be a couple of weeks before he can get started on your first suit, and probably another two or three weeks to fulfill your entire order – a month at the outside, if there are any unexpected delays.
As you don't urgently need your new suit for anything, the delay isn't really an issue, so you go ahead and schedule a return visit for next week, so that you can test Sing's first attempts and give him some feedback.
That settled, you put your jacket back on, pick up your bag of samples, and follow the tailors out of the fitting room and further into the shop, heading up the stairs at the end of the hall and into a room that seems half like the dedicated workspace you just left, and half like a meeting room, with four reasonably comfortable-looking chairs around the rather cluttered main table.
"Apologies for the mess," Mr. Sing says, as he and Mr. Zhu move some of their work out of the way. "We weren't expecting to conduct business of this nature today."
"And my apologies for dropping it on you unannounced," you return, as you set your bag on one of the chairs. "But on that note, would you prefer to begin with the raw materials, or the finished designs?"
Mr. Sing considers it. "Let's start with the materials."
You nod, and take out one of the various examples of spider silk. "Well, first of all, there's this sample provided by a Ms. Liantiel…"
Over the next half-hour or so, you explain the origins of the pieces of silk-
"Why have you met so many giant spiders?" Mr. Zhu asks.
As well as the properties you've observed them to have.
Of the various samples, Mr. Sing proves to be most interested in Liantiel's work. In part, this is because the Fae spider-lady was able to provide samples of different kinds of spider-silk, potentially capable of performing different jobs, whereas your conjured Gohma Webbing is limited to two or three kinds, and somewhat intermixed besides. There's also the level of skill involved in the manufacture, with your magically-produced webbing coming in a distant second to the works of a professional web-weaver with decades or maybe even centuries of experience.
Another reason why the tailor prefers Liantiel's silks echoes what he said earlier about not wanting to sell clothes with auras to his general clients. While the Gohma Webbing doesn't glow the way living entities or actively magical objects or locations do when subject to a Spell to Detect the Appropriate Alignment, much less generate the sort of potentially-oppressive presence that especially powerful entities or forces do, it still carries the distinctive energy of Good or Order or whatever essence it's composed of. Even the Neutrally-aligned webbing feels different enough to the right sort of senses that it would draw some attention, especially if worn by completely ordinary people, which sharply limits who it could be sold to. With the limited quality of the material factored in, Mr. Sing just doesn't see the point in trying to do anything with it, especially when there's an alternative of such quality as Liantiel's silk.
Part of you is dismayed by that, but the rest is too pleased about finding a potential buyer for some of your friendly Fae acquaintance's work for that to really register.
On that note, you put away the silk samples and get out the clothes.
"I mean, mundane spiders can be found all over the world, so…"
"…it sort of follows that supernatural spiders would be similarly common," you finish with a shrug.
"…I hate that this makes sense."
"Not a fan of spiders?" you wonder.
"No," Mr. Zhu replies. "Especially not gigantic ones."
Eh, fair enough. You can't say that you're terribly fond of most of the giant spider-monsters you've run into, but that's more because those particular specimens were trying to kill and/or eat you, and were manifestations of demonic power besides, than because they were spiders. You're not going to blame all arachnids in the cosmos for the actions of a few of their distant, corrupted cousins, any more than you would blame Kahlua for the actions of the corpse-demons in Sunnydale – as proof of that, look no further than your polite conversation and successful business transaction with Ms. Liantiel – but Mr. Zhu seems to have a somewhat different opinion of the matter.
You suppose you might feel differently yourself, if you weren't well aware of how casually you could burn out a swarm of Gohma larvae or nuke an adult specimen if you needed to. But, to each his own!
Speaking of the spider-lady, when you hand the clothing samples she provided to you over to the tailors, there is some professional chatter between the two of them about style, weave, and color. You make a few mental notes and ask a question or two, revealing enough of your existing knowledge in the process to make it clear that you aren't a complete ignorant when it comes to the ways of needle and thread.
The gist of it is that Mr. Zhu thinks the work is pretty good, though not quite up to the standards set for employees of Sing's Suits. Mr. Sing sees further than that, correctly discerning that Ms. Liantiel has never worked as a professional seamstress and that she may have been a bit rushed when she put these pieces of clothing together. He also adds that the lady is quite likely self-taught, which surprises you.
You only spoke with the spider-lady the one time, of course, and it's not like she told you her life story, but Liantiel came across as rather family-oriented, clearly caring for her children and wanting them to do well. The little spiderlings seemed to love her right back, or at the very least to not be afraid that Spider-Mom might turn around and eat them, and you'd unconsciously taken that as a hint towards how their particular offshoot of the Fae-spider family web behaved. If that were so, you would have expected Liantiel to have been taught how to weave clothing by one or both of her parents, but Mr. Sing is saying that apparently wasn't the case, which has you wondering if he's correct, and if so, why.
Leaving that aside, the old tailor agrees that the work put into these outfits is indeed a bit below the skill level he expects of prospective employees, though he would only call it "amateur" in the sense that the lady wasn't getting financially compensated for her labor. He could see it selling perfectly well in a less specialized shop, with or without the little web-like patterns included for decoration.
"Those are really very good," he says in an aside. "Not the sort of stylistic touch I'd have any call for, except in a few specialty orders, but still, excellently done and plenty to appeal to the right sort of customer."
You'll be sure to let the lady know.
Aside from picking up a book of fabric samples, is there anything else you wish to do at Sing's Suits?
Since Mr. Sing brought up the matter of "specialty orders," you inquire what exactly that means while you're packing the clothes and webbing samples back into your bag.
"That depends on the customer," the tailor answers. "Most of our business is in Western-style suits, as you no doubt noticed-"
You did have a feeling that might be the case.
"-but we do a decent side business in more traditional formalwear, particularly among the local and regional martial arts community. Orders from magic-users are fairly common as well, despite my own lack of magical talent – though several such clients have informed me that is apparently something of a selling point?"
At his inquiring look, you nod. Spellcasters can be a little paranoid about allowing any of their personal information to fall into the hands of other magic-users – not without good reason, of course, but when that guardedness becomes a habit and bleeds over into daily life, it can make simple things like trusting your tailor harder than they really need to be.
Then there's the things you've heard about the competitive environment of the Mages' Association and the games of one-upmanship that go on there – to say nothing, literally so, of your inherited memories of some of the petty schemes Koume and Kotake got up to in their spare time – and how they would easily leave many arcanists unable to believe that a true sorcerer of silk or thaumaturge of threads could make an outfit for someone else without slipping some unwanted features in.
But someone like Mr. Sing, who, so far as you've seen, only uses mystical energy to enhance the quality of his work? That is much easier to trust, and also a good source for enchantment-worthy outfits.
"…do you only use your ki techniques to make better clothes?" you ask a moment later. "Or can you produce actual ki-powered items?"
"On my own, no," Mr. Sing admits. "I learned my more exotic techniques from a lady who was capable of what you describe, and I assisted her with making a few such things, but I never learned the skills required for putting power into objects on a permanent basis." He shrugs. "I only had a few months to learn before other business took my teacher elsewhere, and my natural talent for such techniques and personal interest in learning them weren't enough to make up the difference. I just wanted to make and sell better clothes."
Ah. Well, that answers the question about the possibility of ordering a pre-made enchanted fighting uniform from him without you even having to ask. Silver linings: given Mr. Sing does work in traditional Eastern styles with an eye towards accommodating the martial arts community, you could certainly order such an outfit suitable for enchanting on your own time.
As he'd brought up a tutor with the ability to craft ki-infused items, you inquire if Mr. Sing knows of any other individuals with such talents, or any other mystical sorts, who might be interested in doing business with you.
"Not at this time," he replies firmly. "It will take more than just an hour's work and conversation before I feel comfortable trusting you with such information."
Fair. For all he knows, you could be a demon in disguise, and your Spell of Mind Blank is likely not helping to make you appear any more trustworthy.
Not that you're going to bring it down, or apologize for having it up.
"No, no, having defenses is quite understandable."
With your samples now packed up, you ask if you could buy one of those books of material samples from the shop.
Mr. Sing and Mr. Zhu blink and trade glances.
"We don't normally sell those," the younger tailor muses.
"But it's not as if we don't have spares or can't easily get a replacement," the proprietor adds. "I don't see an issue."
Great. That just leaves the matter of what sort of payment they prefer.
"Ah, yes," Mr. Sing says. "Payments made at the till should be done with cash or credit card, as our young Mr. Bon and his co-cashier are not yet aware of the hidden truths of the world. I do accept gold and silver currency for private orders, but I prefer to avoid jewels or jewelry if possible – getting them evaluated and sold just creates more paperwork."
You nod, and then inquire, "What about examples of other styles of clothing, for study purposes? Would you take something like that in trade?"
"…that would depend on the clothing," Mr. Sing answers thoughtfully.
You'll keep that in mind for the future.
With your order placed, your questions answered, and your next visit scheduled, you thank Mr. Sing for his time and follow Mr. Zhu back out to the front of the store. Along the way, the younger tailor swings by a different table than the one you were sitting next to, briefly inspects the two books that were sitting there, and then nods and hands one of them over to you.
Unlike the book you paged through earlier, this one doesn't contain detailed diagrams of suits alongside samples of fabric. Instead, you've got a piece of fabric on the left-hand page, while the right-hand page explains what raw materials it's made from, where those are found, how they're processed – though as a general overview of the method and tools involved, rather than a step-by-step breakdown – and what the properties of the fabric are. There are dozens of samples, possibly a hundred or more, and while none of them register to your senses as mystical in nature, they nonetheless stand to open up a lot of options for you when it comes to tailoring.
Gained Sing's Book of Swatches
At the counter, the teller looks on with some confusion as you set the book down.
"Add that to the charge for two fittings," Mr. Zhu advises.
"We sell the books, sir?" the young man says slowly.
"Special occasion."
"…yes, sir. So, uh… that's fifteen thousand yuan per suit, and for the book…" The teller pauses, and then picks the book up and looks for a price.
Fortunately, you anticipated having to pay a relatively high price per suit, and were able to convert some of your money to New Taiwan dollars while visiting the Pfennig Exchange. The rate turned out to be VERY favorable for the United States dollar – about three cents per yuan – although even with that, you will most likely be paying the rest of your bill here with gold, now that you've confirmed Sing's accepts such.
Spent $1,200
The last of the day's business done, you slip the book into your bag, thank the teller and Mr. Zhu, and depart.
Zelda's birthday comes around the following week, and prior to that, you check with Lu-sensei about your idea for a steadily-upgraded uniform. He says he has no particular issue with it, although he does advise you to warn your sister that progress is not guaranteed to be quick.
Your master of martial education also notes that if a bunch of Zelda's classmates start bothering him about where to get similar uniforms for themselves, he's pointing them in your direction.
"They couldn't afford my rates," you reply with an air of affected snootiness.
"…exactly what did you do to this uniform?" Lu Tze wonders, frowning.
"Nothing beyond some barebones reinforcements, Sensei, but even making effects that simple last pushed the price up to a thousand dollars. Most people around here aren't going to pay that much for their kids' sports equipment, no matter HOW good the quality."
"Sad, but true," your master sighs.
Your promised gift of a "magic kung fu outfit" goes over well with your sister, even if it is currently a bit plain-looking, and with some of the guests confusing it for a new pair of pajamas at first. Due to the vacationing habits of the average Sunnydaler, a lot of Zelda's friends are out of town, but there are enough who either hadn't left or had returned from their respective trips that you spend a good chunk of the day making sure none of a dozen or so inquisitive younger kids – mostly girls, but a few boys as well – stick their noses into your basement workshop.
One more reason to look forward to setting up shop on a private demiplane…
Speaking of which, your recent successful use of the Lesser Spell to Create a Demiplane – in particular, all the time that you spent reviewing the space-time manipulations necessary to make that spell work properly – seems to have had something of a cascade effect, allowing you to put together the final pieces of several other spell formulas you'd been studying.
Learned Discern Location
Learned Interplanetary Teleport
Learned Moment of Prescience
Learned Transfiguring Touch
…you aren't quite sure why that breakthrough helped you figure out the Spell of Transfiguring Touch, unless it has something to do with the material conjurations involved in creating a Demiplane… well, whatever.
Regarding Interplanetary Teleport, where did you go to test it?
You debate the pros and cons of your two preferred potential destinations for a time, until you look to the horizon one evening, see the mostly-full Moon climbing above the edge of the world, and find the question decided.
You can't not go to the Moon. It's just… there. Waiting.
"Hopefully not with any masked weirdos on it," Briar observes.
Well, yes, hopefully not.
Letting your folks know that you have a quick errand that you just remembered and will be back within half an hour, you pull off a low-powered Spell of Teleportation to skip town, and then make your preparations out in the desert.
The Spell to Create a Life Bubble, to provide air – not just for breathing, but also so that you can continue to cast spells – keep out the space dust, and ward you against the temperature.
Then, since you don't currently know a Spell to Resist Radiation or anything quite like it, a ritual to try and force the effect.
Finally, you cast the Spell of Darkvision, and then get out a hat and a pair of sunglasses. You're AIMING for the near and currently well-lit side, but given this is the first time you're going to be field testing the Spell of Interplanetary Teleportation, its safeguards may decide that you need to land somewhere else – but whether you end up on the dark side or the bright, you should be good either way.
With all preparations made and covering your partner as well as yourself, you cast the spell.
"Energize."
"Seriously? That-"
*Flicker*
"-is not how it works, and you kno-oh, wow, do you feel that?"
"Like everything suddenly weighs a lot less? Then yes."
You look around.
Grey rocks and grey dust? Check.
More grey rocks and grey dust? Also check.
Craters? There's a small one about twenty feet away.
Light? Quite a bit of it, actually, although not so much as to be overpowering. You take a few cautious glances towards the rocky horizon, turning your head a bit each time until you're sure which direction the light is most concentrated in, and only then looking up into an alien sky, clearly lit by the risen Sun and yet bearing no color beyond the darkness of empty space.
It takes a couple more shifts before you catch sight of the Earth, which…
…
It just hit you that you are now a member of a very select group of human beings. Only twelve men are publicly known to have walked on the surface of the Moon, and while the number of individuals who've gotten here by magical means is a mystery to you, it may honestly not be that much higher. Very few people are capable of performing ninth-circle spells to begin with, and not all of those would have access to the Spell of Interplanetary Teleportation, much less the grasp of Summoning Magic necessary to perform it.
You spend a few minutes just standing there, looking up at the big blue ball in the sky, a good part of which is currently dark, though not so much as the space around it, thanks to a mix of reflected moonlight and the smudged glow of the cities of North America.
Eventually, you lower your eyes and look around again. For all that you're standing on another celestial body, there's really not a whole lot up here to see…
A part of you wants to pull up a rock and meditate on the vastness of the cosmos, or the timelessness of the lunar surface, or the sight of the Earth above you and everything it represents.
Alas, you don't have time for that. For all that you're able to clear your mind in just a minute or so, that's merely the set-up phase; proper meditation still takes time to yield any results, even when it's just the relatively simple manipulation of your own energies, let alone the comprehension of deep mysteries and fundamental truths. The time required for exercises of the former nature is best measured in hours, and the latter in years or lifetimes – either way, you don't have nearly enough right now.
Plus, not going to lie, you'd like to have a more certain defense against radiation before you spent a few hours chilling on the Moon. Or… not chilling, as the case may be, with the Sun up like this. How hot does it get on the Moon, anyway? You should probably look that up before you come back.
Even if you don't have time for any in-depth self-reflection or exploration, it seems a shame to come all this way and then just leave without doing anything more than a little Earth-gazing, no matter how impressive that was. As you're looking around, considering how to make use of your time, your attention is drawn to the rocks.
The MOON rocks.
Didn't Amy pick up a moon rock at the market a little while back? You're still not clear on exactly HOW – to be fair, neither was she – but the bit of lunar stone had some interesting properties, not the least of them being its strong affinity for Time.
You don't come across temporal reagents very often, meaning this could be a good chance to collect one of your own. All the more so, considering that you're collecting it yourself, from the source, and on your very first trip to the Moon.
You scan about with your passive senses, getting a feel for the nearby rocks. There's not much to distinguish them from one another; in absolute terms, they're "just" ordinary moon rocks. But in relative terms, as the rocks located at the site of your first successful use of the Spell of Interplanetary Teleportation…
That one looks good.
Gained Moon Rock
Pocketing the stone, you take another look around, and are once again struck by the relative lack of features on the lunar surface. The craters give it a bit of character, but otherwise it's just rock and dust as far as the eye can see. If you want to seriously explore this place on a future visit, you'd be best served by using some high-speed movement…
…
Oh, what the heck. You may not have time to actually go anywhere – if there is, indeed, anywhere TO go – but you can spare a few minutes to see how well you can move around under lunar gravity. If nothing else, it'll let you know if ground-based movement is worth pursuing on future visits, or if you should stick with Fly Spells.
And of course, it should be fun!
Yeah, it's probably for the best if you start from the baseline and work your way up. With that in mind, you take a short step-
*Wobble*
-adjust your balance to try and account for the much-reduced force of gravity, and then take another, longer step, closer to your normal walking stride.
It takes a few minutes for you to feel comfortable about getting up to a run, and when you do, you quickly notice how the occasional footstep prompts small sprays of moon dust. The stuff behaves rather peculiarly compared to any similar material you've run through on Earth, traveling somewhat higher than the force imparted by your strides should allow, and largely remaining clumped together as it travels, instead of billowing out into clouds.
The good news is that you can see your Life Bubble actively scattering and deflecting the grains, so you don't end up getting grey grit smeared all over your shoes and pant legs. This might not work if the dust were heavier or more tightly packed together, or if something threw it at you with greater strength, but as it is, you're staying clean.
…it occurs to you that you might want to dust off your shiny new Moon Rock before you go home, just so it doesn't end up leaving grey streaks all over everything.
Anyway, after several minutes of trying to adjust your mundane strength to allow for something approximating Earth-normal locomotion, you give jumping a try-
"Can you imagine playing basketball like this?" you wonder, near the peak of your second bounce.
"I've never played, so no," Briar replies.
"…what, not even once?"
"About the only time I'm anywhere near a hoop is when you're in gym class, so..." She trails off with a shrug.
-and find that your prior guess about the dust-deflecting limitations of your Spell of Life Bubble were accurate, as when you come down from a jump and then check the bottom of your shoes, you find you've picked up a lot of grit. A quick casting of Prestidigitation gets rid of it, but you take it as a sign to be mindful.
Although you're not confident, the clock is ticking, so you move on to the Ki Enhancement testing-
"Whoa!"
-and are immediately glad that you took the time to work on fine-tuning your balance and speed for this alien environment. Between the much weaker gravity and the effectively zero air resistance, channeling even a little bit of ki into boosting your movement speed sees you covering ground with startling quickness, and this particular surface is not exactly giving you the best traction.
The general boosts of Ki Enhancement allow you to stay upright, but it's a close thing even so.
Given this, you decide to refrain from trying for a Body Flicker, at least on this visit.
With your lunar speed trials suspended for the time being and nothing else to really do here, you get your Moon Rock out, dust it off with a careful application of magic, and then tuck it back into your pocket and repeat the cleaning process for yourself. Once you're clear of moon dust, you gather your mana for the return trip.
When you return home a short time later…
"Where'd you go in such a hurry, Alex?" your father wonders.
"To the Moon."
There is a moment's silence in the wake of your reply.
"…the Moon," your father repeats.
"Yep."
"As in, THE Moon," he says, before pointing out the window at the lunar sphere that is slightly higher in the sky now than it was when you left the house. "As in THAT Moon, right there?"
"Uh-huh."
…
"…I want to ask 'how' and 'why'," your old man finally manages. "But the answer to the first is obviously 'magic,' and I'm guessing the answer to the latter is, 'because it was there, and I could.'"
"…I mean, that's definitely PART of the answer," you admit, "but also, Amy got her hands on a moon rock a little while back-"
"Wait, she did?"
"Yeah, she went to the flea market with her mom back in June, and some weirdo in the crowd gave it to her."
Your father huffs in amusement. "I don't go the flea market much, myself, but if memory serves, 'weirdo' is a fair description of about half the people who show up for it."
"From what Amy said, this one was weirder than most."
"An achievement."
You nod at that.
You haven't seriously looked into who or what that apparent illusionist was, partly because you've simply been too busy to take on additional tasks, and partly because Amy wanted to figure it out herself – and as her tutor in matters arcane, it behooves you not to go solving a problem for her unless or until it's clearly beyond her skills, or the situation becomes dangerous.
Also, you'd personally like to know a little more about this entity before you go calling on the Goddesses or performing other high-end acts of Divination. He or it might not be anything impressive alone, but Amy did say the stranger had mentioned having employers…
"Anyway," you continue aloud, shaking your head, "Amy had a moon rock, and I didn't, and that was… kind of embarrassing. I mean, I'm one of her magic teachers, I can do anything she can with magic and then some, and I'm teleporting all over the planet on a fairly regular basis when she still hasn't learned the basic spell, and yet she's the one with an actual piece of the Moon."
"So you learned how to teleport to the Moon because you were jealous of a friend," your father concludes.
"I wouldn't say it was jealousy," you reply with a slight frown, because it sounds like your father may have gotten the wrong impression. "It was more that I've had an interest in space rocks in general for… a while now."
"How long's a while?"
"Do you remember me telling you about the Familiar Binding Ritual I did with Briar, and how I was bouncing all over the place looking for special materials to make it work?"
"…that long, huh?"
"Kind of, yeah. I mean, I didn't specifically INTEND to get a meteorite for that or anything, but I did look into what sort of reagents might work, and it turns out that an asteroid, a moon rock, or some other bit of otherworldly stone that's just been chilling out in space since the birth of the solar system might have a really, really good association for Time – not to mention some of the things you might be able to do with other materials gathered from other planets. But all of that sort of stuff was WAY outside the reach of my teleportation spells at the time. It's only in the last year or so that I was able to start researching the Spell of Interplanetary Teleportation, and that's been the kind of project I really had to take my time with, to make sure everything went right, you know?"
"…I can imagine," your father replies after a moment. "Don't want to fly right through a star or bounce too close to a supernova, right?"
He tries to make the quip sound lighthearted, but it doesn't take your level of social perceptiveness to catch the concern.
"The spell actually has safeguards specifically to prevent travel to dangerous locations," you assure him. "If the caster inputs a destination that they wouldn't be able to survive, the magic either reroutes them to a safe location on the same planet, or just doesn't activate at all."
"Hence the wanting to get it right the first time." He nods. "I getcha, and I am glad to hear it."
You thought he might be.
"So, yeah, I've had something of an interest in mining space rocks for a while, I was working on the spell that would let me actually do it, and the other day, I realized that it was ready for a field test, which meant I needed to decide where, exactly, I wanted to go."
"And then you looked out the window tonight and saw the full moon?" your father guesses.
"And then I looked out the window tonight and saw the full moon," you agree.
Tony nods. "Can't say I would have done much different if I was in your position." He pauses again for a long moment, and when he speaks again, there is something in his voice that makes him sound a whole lot younger. "…what was it like up there?"
"…I mean, I could take you up there sometime…?"
Your father blinks with remarkable expressiveness, before turning and glancing out the living room window.
"Not tonight, obviously," you clarify. "This would have to be a family thing, or Zelda would never forgive us."
"Yeah, that's true," he agrees.
"Also, there's a few spells and other details I'd want to research first," you go on. "I was able to protect myself and Briar for a fairly short visit that didn't involve any surprises, but if I'm going to bring you, Zelda, and Mom along, I'm going to need to improve some of my defensive spells first."
Your father frowns, momentarily confused, but then you see the experience and survival instincts of a native Sunnydaler kick in. "Are there moon demons?" he asks seriously.
"That's one of the things I want to check up on," you admit. "I mean, the astronauts involved in the Moon landings were all able to go up and come back without running into anything-"
As far as you or anyone else in the general public knows, you think but don't say aloud.
Not that you need to, you can just about see the same thought crossing your father's mind.
"-and I didn't pick up any hints of demonic activity while I was there," you go on. "But I also didn't wander very far from my landing spot, and it's a big Moon. Plus, I know there's a few legends about people or creatures living up there, so knowing more about them before potentially running into them seems like it'd be a good idea."
Not that you're terribly worried about running into the rabbit of the Moon, but some of the lunar deities might be another matter, if they're maintaining avatars and actual residences up there.
Your dad nods. "Better safe than sorry."
"Yeah. Besides," you continue, "even without all the supernatural stuff, there's vacuum, radiation, and even the chance of meteorites to be concerned about, not to mention how bright the Sun was, or how much fun falling on all that rock and dust wouldn't be."
"Yeah, fair enough. But, uh, let me know when you're ready?"
"Will do."
A few days later, you put all your academic research, arcane studies, and other projects on hold, as there is an event in Germany that requires your presence. After letting your parents know you would be attending what more or less amounts to a very, VERY long-overdue funeral procession-
"Does it still count as a funeral when the dead are walking around during the event?" your father asks.
"No, I can see it," your mother says thoughtfully. "As long as they were dead before the proceedings, and buried by the end of them, then…"
"I think the mob would like to hear more about your definition of a funeral, Jess."
"Hush, you."
-and rearranging your sleep schedule a bit to account for the time difference-
"These Restful Blankets come in really handy where time zones and teleport lag are involved, don't they?" Briar observes from her house.
"Less talk, more z's, please."
-you take a quick, quiet shower, and get changed.
Wear your Memorian Warmage's Robe. One last show of Legion solidarity.
You were already planning on bringing the Standard that the Memorians gave you for your birthday, of course, but while you could probably get away with wearing any sort of formalwear as long as you had the banner to go with it, it just feels right to wear the robes that actually match it.
Once your personal preparations are made, you head down to your Mirror Hideaway, put on an Adjustable Polymorph-
-and then ritually open up a Gate to the Tokyo Tower, before quickly teleporting from there to the Hakuba Shrine.
Ginta and Ichirou were present for and assisted in the awakening of the legionaries, as well as the recovery of the Faerie Outpost, and while they missed out on the cleansing of the Earthside Base, in passing conversation since then, they've expressed a certain interest in seeing the whole matter through to its conclusion.
You checked with Captain Marcus about that, and he had no issue with extending an invitation to "foreign allies of the Legion" for the event, or with said allies bringing a plus-one. As such, Mrs. Hakuba is accompanying her husband, and Miss Suzuka has agreed to be Ichirou's escort.
For your part, you aren't sure if you really need to invite anybody, and the timing is such that none of your Californian friends were available anyway, even if any of them were interested – which, by and large, they weren't.
Still…
You're going to back to Germany shortly, you might as well use Dr. Jones again, in case the Einzberns are still watching.
There are a few people nearby when you step out of your Gate, but most of them are far enough away and looking in the wrong direction(s) to notice your arrival.
"Most" is not "all," however, and a couple of kids who look to be around your actual age are staring in astonishment at you, clearly having seen you step out of the hole in space. In response to this, you raise one hand, index finger extended across your lips, in a gesture for silence, right before you disappear into your Teleport.
You wonder, idly, if those two – a brother and slightly older sister, if you had to guess – will tell anybody what they just saw, whether or not they've seen the right movies to recognize Harrison Ford, and if so has, whether or not the arcane design of the robe throws them. While you don't have an exhaustive knowledge of Mr. Ford's acting career, Star Wars is the closest you can recall him coming to starring in an outright fantasy piece…
Seeing as how her family and their immediate allies were involved in the search for and excavation of the Memorian Base – even if most of them, aside from Roderick Pritchard, were only peripherally involved in the matter – you figured there was reasonable cause to extend an invitation to Altria to join you for today's proceedings. Plus, this gave you a chance to see how much, if any, of her experience in your recent Trials she remembered.
Incidentally, the answer was, "some, but not the most clearly."
Anyway, Altria accepted the offer, but will be meeting you on-site. Evidently Mr. Pritchard decided to bring his son Lance along as his guest for the event, and Altria is traveling from Britain with him.
…you weren't entirely clear if the two of them were relying on Ambrose for their travel arrangements, or if they were making their way to the German site by more conventional means. You could see it going either way: Ambrose would undoubtedly go ahead and invite himself along if he ended up in the area; yet he might also prefer to avoid the place, given its relative proximity to Einzbern territory and their awareness of the dig (however much Miss Irina was interfering with the information the family were getting).
As the old man's said before, that's a fight he'd prefer not to pick casually.
You had considered also inviting Kahlua to join you, partly as a nod to the alliance between humans and monsters which the Memorians once enjoyed – and technically still do, even if they're all (un)dead these days – partly to make up for missing her birthday to deal with the Earthside Base, and partly to help keep things fair after summoning Altria to help you in the Ring of Trials, but in the end, you decided against it. The Shuzens really weren't involved in either Memorian incident, they have reasons to avoid the Einzberns as surely as Ambrose does, and you already explained to Kahlua and the rest of her family why you had to miss this year's celebration.
Besides, the legionaries who attended your ninth birthday party have already met your various part- and non-human acquaintances, so they're well aware of the relationships there.
So it is that when you arrive at the Hakuba Shrine, the only people waiting to meet you are the resident priests and their significant others-
"Harrison Ford?!" Ginta exclaims.
"It's just me," you explain, shifting back to your usual appearance for a moment. "I'll be using this disguise in Germany, at least while we're outside. There's a local magical family watching the dig site who I'd rather didn't know what I actually look like. On that note," you add, "would anybody else care for a disguise before we leave?"
The Hakubas and Miss Suzuka trade looks.
"…I think we'll take you up on that," Ginta admits.
-of whom only four will be joining you.
Setting up a temporary Private Sanctum to help hide the energies, you ritually cast a Communal Spell to Disguise One's Self – or perhaps more accurately, a Communal Spell to Disguise (An) Other(s) – give the Hakubas a minute to adjust to their temporary new looks, and then ritually teleport everyone to the Black Forest.
You'd considered giving the Hakubas disguises based on other characters from the Indiana Jones movies, but it didn't feel quite right to cast Ginta or Ichirou as Henry Jones Senior when you were already going as Junior, and certainly not to make them look like any of the villains. You suppose that you could have cast them as Sallah and Brody, but that would still have left Mrs. Hakuba and Miss Suzuka's disguises to deal with, and given the only major female characters in all three movies are Indy's love interests… well, that just seemed unsuitable.
Your teleportation spell drops you in the same rope-fenced-off designated teleportation area tucked behind that boulder and tent. It's a little crowded, given there are six of you – and Briar is once again using her "student-slash-research assistant" guise – but there's just enough space to keep things from feeling awkward, and the guards see your arrival and usher you out of the holding area with all due promptness.
Asking some questions, you learn that Mr. Pritchard, his aides, and "a few other guests" are assembled at the command tent again, awaiting your arrival.
An additional question confirms that Miss Irina is still with them, and also reveals that several of her fellow homunculi and a genuine Einzbern magus are also in the camp.
As soon as that's mentioned, you seek clarification, and learn that the magus in question is not the one that was originally in charge of observing the dig, but a replacement who was sent in a couple of weeks after your previous visit, and has been back and forth several times since then.
The guards don't have all the details, but they do note that Miss Irina has seemed happier and more relaxed since then, Ms. Griffith was caught grinning in satisfaction at the prospect of punishment for somebody who wasn't in the camp, and that some sort of arrangement has been reached with the Einzberns to keep the peace.
Given the lack of any mention of a wizard showing up, you wonder if a formal agreement to keep Ambrose away was part of the negotiations…?
Well, whatever. You should definitely speak with Roderick and the rest before doing anything else, but did you have a suggestion for the Hakubas?
"…why do we look like we just came from America in the Thirties?" Ichirou wonders, looking over the illusionary costumes he and the others now appear to be wearing.
"Well, I had dibs on Dr. Jones," you reply, gesturing at your own altered face, "and I didn't think it would be entirely right to disguise you as anyone related to him. Also, Nazis and Thuggees were right out."
"So you made us look like extras in an Indiana Jones movie," Ginta concludes.
"I mean, I can change the spell, if that's a problem…?"
"No, I think we can manage. We certainly don't look anything like our normal selves…"
And that was the main point, so, yeah. Good enough.
Ask the guards to show them to a guest tent, if they've got one to spare.
As it happens, there is a spare tent available, at least for short-term use. Neither of the guards seem like they'd recommend it for an overnight stay, but it's somewhere the Hakubas can adjust to the difference in climate, practice their English a bit more, and not run into the new Einzbern representative.
While one of the guards leads the shrine-keepers away, you and Briar head for the center of the camp.
Your use of Harrison Ford's face gets a few more double-takes from the handful of people you pass, but this time, most of those startled reactions are followed by quickly-dawning expression of recollection and realization. The guard on duty by the command tent sees you coming, nods once, and ushers you through without comment.
Inside, you find Dr. Megalos and Mr. Clarkson, both dressed for a formal occasion, as well as Mr. Pritchard. The big man is once again wearing his armor, this time with a distinctly finer polish and more decorative surcoat than you've previously seen, and with his helm and gauntlets removed. You see the latter tucked into the former, sitting on one of the chairs in the presentation area of the tent, shield and sheathed sword leaning against the chair as well. Lance Pritchard and Altria are dressed similarly.
"…are we expecting trouble, or is this a point of supernatural knightly etiquette I'm not familiar with?" you ask.
"Harrison Ford-?" Lance begins, staring at your face in confusion.
While her friend is puzzled, Altria has previously heard your account of the exploration of the ruins already, and seen an illusionary re-enactment of it besides. Thus, instead of being momentarily lost, she nods in greeting. "Good morning, Alex, Briar. Thank you again for the invitation."
"You're welcome, and my question still stands."
"Of course."
The answer, it turns out, is that they're not really expecting trouble, but Altria's parents and Mrs. Pritchard were more comfortable with their respective children going into a previously demon-infested and still haunted ancient ruin with their arms and armor. And yes, under certain circumstances – particularly out in the field like this – a knight can show up to formal events wearing his panoply without giving offense.
Do you have any specific questions about the Einzbern presence in camp?
"So, Mr. Pritchard," you begin. "I hear there are more Einzberns in the camp."
"There are," he agrees with a nod.
"What happened?"
As you learn, the magus in question first showed up five days after your afternoon-slash-evening purge of the Base, which put her two or three days behind schedule for the Einzberns' usual weekly check-in with Irina. As the lady explained at the time, she'd been delayed in dealing with Irina's previous supervisor, who hadn't reacted well to the news that she was being recalled for screwing up her assignment and her mishandling of "the family assets entrusted to her."
"From what Miss Holzknecht said, our presence was considered a minor enough matter for the task of monitoring us to be entrusted to a low-ranking member of the family, as a test of her field capabilities," Roderick explains. "That should have changed once we'd started to dig up actual magical ruins, but Irina's original handler apparently decided to let us non-magicals, minor talents from 'insignificant' bloodlines, and 'medieval meathead re-enactors' get ourselves killed dealing with the defenses of the place, so that she could sweep in and secure the site in the aftermath, and then present it to the Einzberns. Or possibly just keep it for herself."
"…so, greedy and callous, as well as arrogant and dumb," you conclude.
"Possibly more entitled and ambitious than truly greedy," Mr. Pritchard replies, "and technically very intelligent, in the way magi generally have to be to work their craft – but yes, definitely arrogant and callous, and at least a bit stupid about how things work out in the real world."
Altria shakes her head. "Aunt Mary has mentioned such… individuals… in the past. Ambrose considers them targets of opportunity, when he's feeling particularly…" She trails off, visibly searching for a word.
"Himself?" you and Lance Pritchard offer at once.
"…yes."
You can imagine.
You'd rather not, but you can.
In any case, things here at the dig site did not go the way the first Einzbern anticipated, and either she was careless in her reports to a higher authority, or somebody else in the family decided to aim a few Divination spells at this place to find out what was taking so long – this Holzknecht lady apparently didn't specify – because she is officially off this job and in hot water.
As for the newcomer…
"Did she have any specific questions or demands when she arrived?"
"To the latter, no," Mr. Pritchard replies. "As I said, there's enough distance between this site and the Einzbern holdings that they can't make a reasonable claim to it, particularly not after their first representative let us sit here for months. As for the unreasonable claims, between my family, the Drakes" – he nods to Altria – "and the people we know on the stranger side of things, we could make life difficult for even a name like the Einzberns – and they're aware of that, so they tend to think better than to try. That we're all associated with Ambrose is definitely a help; as much as he prefers to be cautious where these people are involved, they're about as wary of crossing him."
Good to know. But about the questions…?
"For the most part, nothing that we weren't able to answer, or defer to a later time," Roderick replies. "Miss Holzknecht does seem to be aware that this isn't a Roman structure, although the name 'Memoria' never crossed her lips when I spoke to her. 'Publicly unrecorded magical successor-state' was the closest I can recall her getting to it."
Hm. Ignorance, or just hiding what she knows? No way to be sure just now.
"So, what weren't you able to answer or defer?" you inquire.
"She made a decent argument that, since the Einzberns are the nearest magical authority, and given the high levels of magical and spiritual energy bound up in the ruins, any further exploration of the site or communication with its 'denizens' – her word – should be undertaken as a joint venture." Roderick shrugs, massively. "Seeing as how we got all our 'exploration' taken care of that first day, that one didn't cost us anything, and letting her speak with Captain Marcus and the rest just let them make their own case for her to stay out until they were good and ready to let her in."
"How'd she take that?" Briar wonders.
"Pretty well, honestly," the knight replies. "I had the impression she wasn't thrilled at having a bunch of ghosts effectively tell her to get off of their lawn, but when the priest showed up and made it clear that Mars has his eye on this place, that settled things quickly."
So the replacement representative isn't so determined to have her own way that she'll pick a quarrel with a god's proxy to get it? Good to know, and a sign of good sense on her part. You may be able to deal with this one…
Speaking of, when you ask if it would be possible to arrange a meeting, Roderick notes that Miss Holzknecht has managed to talk her way into attending the farewell ceremony, on the grounds of her being a duly-appointed representative of the modern, magically-aware local population.
Well, then…
It's going to be a little annoying to have to attend the event in disguise – especially if it goes on long enough that you need to renew the spell – but at least some of the Memorians know what your chosen face looks like, and they'll be able to recognize your battle-robes on top of that, so it should be fine.
In hindsight, it's a good thing that you decided not to wear a suit…
Shrugging, you turn to the knight and squires in the tent. "Shall we go?"
"Just let me get my things," replies Sir Roderick, nodding towards the chair where his helm, gauntlets, shield, and sword are resting. "And Altria-?" he adds, gesturing to his head.
"Ah, yes," Altria sighs, as she reaches for something in her pocket… and pulls out a rolled-up hat of the sort you'd associate with Robin Hood, albeit in red felt rather than green, and with fine embroidering and a loose band of small, semi-precious stones to accompany the three lofty, multicolored feathers (yellow at the base, darkening into green and then blue). The item faintly radiates an aura of Illusion and Transformation Magic, which gives you a good idea of what it's meant for even before Altria slips it on her head, although the Fae feel of the energies gives you a moment's pause regardless.
And then you're looking at… well, at the face of someone you would describe as Altria's older brother, or Altria if she'd been born a boy and looked a few years older, whether from actually being born sooner or having the same sort of "younger than I look" thing going on that you do. The resemblance to her normal self, her mother, and her sister is still perfectly clear to anyone who's met them, but there's more of Arthur in her face – ah-ha-ha – her hairstyle is different, and she's taller and more filled out. Her overall coloration has been altered, too, making "him" seem paler and with eyes that shade more towards yellow than green. The cap, meanwhile, has taken on the appearance of a subtle hairclip, holding down that one particular lock, and the aura of its power has faded to the point where you have to look closely to notice it.
"Cap of Disguise," you state, having already identified the item. "Nice. Ambrose?" you add, guessing at its origins.
"I am actually borrowing it from Lance and his father," Altria replies, in a voice that sounds like it has hit puberty.
You look at the older boy, who shrugs. "We may not have the huge collection of stuff the wizard has made, bought, or stolen over the years, but we've picked up a few things."
Yes, a family of magical knights would likely have made some interesting acquisitions, wouldn't they? You've seen evidence of that very fact in some of the loot from the Silbern Raid.
Curiously enough, while Altria is making some effort to disguise herself – though why she isn't making MORE of one, you aren't sure – neither of the Pritchards do.
In Sir Roderick's case, you can understand why: he's an adult, and so quite capable of deciding for himself what risks he wishes to face; his name and face are probably already known to the Einzberns, given his family and associates; and he's the leader of this whole expedition besides, so unless he was going to bother to disguise everybody involved for the entire time they were in Germany – and then some – there wasn't much point in him trying to hide his own identity. And getting all the people you know are involved in this dig to wear masks of one sort or another for the months the whole thing has taken was an exercise pretty well doomed to failure, just on grounds of simple human nature, let alone the sort of magic the Einzberns could have brought to bear.
Lance, on the other hand…
Well, you can always ask about these details of disguise later.
One thing you DO inquire about before leaving the tent is what you should address Altria as while she's guised like this.
Lance grins.
"Walt will do," Altria says firmly, before her friend can speak up.
…
…
…okay, no, you have to ask. "What's the story there?"
Lance's grin widens.
"Walt" sighs and, of nobody in particular, asks, "Must you?"
"I think I must," the older boy replies. "Ken would if he were here."
"Kenneth is sometimes a prat."
"Sometimes," Lance agrees. "And at others, he's funny." Then the younger Mr. Pritchard turns to you. "We don't have time for the long version right now," he acknowledges, glancing first towards his father, who has collected all of his gear, and then at the door to the oversized tent, which the other guests await beyond, "but the short one is that Ambrose called her 'Wart' when they were testing the Cap, and it looked like he genuinely didn't intend to."
Slip of the tongue, huh?
Lance nods. "And while Mrs. Drake wasn't about to let any child of HERS be addressed as a skin condition-"
You can see how she might be annoyed by that.
"-she was happy to suggest an alternative that was close enough to remind everyone of the wizard's slip-up every time they heard it."
Ah.
"…she does realize he'll get back at her for that eventually, right?" you ask.
"Undoubtedly," Walt says.
"Almost certainly," Lance agrees.
With that answered, you allow Mr. Pritchard – now with his sword at his left hip, his helmet (still holding his gauntlets) hanging from his right, and his shield strapped across his back – to take the lead, and follow him out of the command post. One of the guards has already been dispatched to fetch the Hakubas, and when they arrive, you quickly inform them about the presence of the Einzbern representative and the need to maintain your various disguises longer than planned.
Ginta is a bit more obviously disgruntled by this development than the others, probably on account of having to keep his religious affiliation hidden at a formal event of spiritual significance, but he's willing to go along with it to avoid giving away such a blatant clue to his family's country of origin.
Fortunately, you'd already cast an Extended Communal Spell of Tongues on the Japanese group, to cover for the language barrier between them and the Memorians, so the fact that a native German speaker will also be attending the funeral won't be an issue. You weren't expecting somebody from the Einzberns to be quite this CLOSE, however, so you go ahead and cast a modified Greater Spell of Magic Aura to hide the presence of the Spell to Disguise Others currently concealing their true appearances.
You don't bother to hide the presence of the Spell of Tongues – since most people don't speak Latin these days, let alone the particular derivative of it that the Memorians use – and you also leave the divinely empowered aspects of Ginta and Ichirou's auras evident, as the Memorians know them as priests, and it could cause problems if that was being hidden. Suzuka, however…
Only after your work is done does Mr. Pritchard send that same guard to let Miss Holzknecht know that it's time for those of you with invitations to venture towards the Memorian Base.
You aren't sure what the better call would be, but you decide to ask Miss Suzuka for her opinion – better safe than sorry, after all, particularly when magic and magic-users are involved.
The disguised miko frowns thoughtfully. "You don't trust this woman with the knowledge that I am a shrine maiden?"
"I don't know her well enough to say whether or not I can trust her," you admit, "but given what I know about magi in general and the family that she works for in particular, I'm inclined to be cautious. Not that I'm expecting her to get violent or anything," you clarify. "From what Mr. Pritchard has said, she's entirely too sensible to do something that dumb – but because she's sensible, she'll be paying attention to all of us and reporting her findings back to the rest of the Einzberns."
Suzuka nods. "And if she tells them she met two priests and two non-magical women, they won't go looking for two priests, one miko, and one non-magical woman."
You nod. "That, and if she thinks you aren't magical, she may pay less attention to you overall."
The human mind can only attend to so many things at once, even with magical assistance, and between three magical knights, a pair of priests, the discrepancy between your Mind Blanked presence and your sorcerous attire and abilities – the latter of which you know you'll be demonstrating at least once as part of the planned proceedings – and the presence of those of Mr. Pritchard's people that will be attending, Miss Holzknecht is already going to have a LOT to pay attention to at this event, and that without even getting into the Memorians or their compound.
Under such circumstances, it would be very easy for someone to write off a pair of mundane-seeming guests, especially if the aforementioned someone tried to scan said pair and failed to break through or even notice the spell making one of them appear unremarkable – which you must say you think is pretty likely.
Even if Illusion Magic isn't your best skill, you ARE still pretty much a past-master in the field by modern standards. Not to toot your own horn or anything.
Anyway, Suzuka agrees it's a reasonable precaution, and you make the adjustments to your spell as you get on with casting it.
A couple of minutes later, the guard who's been doubling as a footman leads the Einzbern representative and one of their distinctive homunculi over to your group.
The lady in question has one of those atypical hair pigmentations you've been told are common in established magical lineages, hers being a dark shade of green not unlike the evergreens that make up this forest. Aside from that and the fact that, like the rest of you, she's wearing formal attire in the middle of a dig site – and in her case, in a style of dress that's probably no less than a quarter as archaic as your Memorian-inspired warmage's robe – she looks like fairly normal woman in her late twenties to the unaided eye. To the magical eye, it's another matter, and you'd peg her as a solid fourth-circle magic-user, one who's wearing a few politely obvious and common-sense pieces of magical kit: a ward against general violence anchored on those bangles; another against less direct hazards woven into the shawl; a necklace and a ring that aren't visible enough, long enough, for you to get a clear read; and if that dress doesn't have a few arrays hidden among its layers, you'll eat your Boots.
As for the homunculus, the most remarkable thing you can say is that this one appears to be male. He has the same light build as Irina, the exact same pale skin and hair, red eyes, and unearthly good looks, and gives you precisely the same impression of not-quite-normal; aside from gender and how that's reflected in his attire being a formal suit matching the style of the magus walking slightly ahead of him rather than the unflattering camp-wear Irina had on, the (literal) biggest difference between the two homunculi is that this fellow is taller by a head or so, putting him just an inch or so shy of six feet. Watching him move, you quickly note another discrepancy.
Irina moved like a magic-user who was familiar with combat.
Her "brother," if that's the correct term, moves like a fighter, and one who's very used to dealing with magical opponents.
The way his scarlet gaze fixes on you and doesn't move away is a big hint in that regard.
Either not noticing or simply not acknowledging her companion's less-than-entirely friendly stare, the Einzbern representative stops at a polite distance and curtseys. "Crescentia Holzknecht von Einzbern," she introduces herself, and the way she says "von" strikes you as subtly different from the handful of times you've heard it used in the past. "Dr. Jones, I presume?"
"Miss Holzknecht," you reply, affecting a European-style bow.
She looks you over. "No hat or bullwhip?"
"It would have made the disguise more authentic, wouldn't it?" you reply with a nod. "Alas," you add, shrugging, "customs."
Miss Holzknecht starts to smile slightly in response to your opening remark, but the follow-up visibly puzzles her, if only for a moment before she covers the reaction.
You can imagine why she'd be confused. Your use of Harrison Ford's face implies that you're very capable in the fields of Illusion and/or Transformation, as replicating the appearance of specific individuals is rather tricky by either method: Illusion Spells require you to know the target's features quite well, usually from having observed them in person, in order to correctly reproduce them; and many Transformation Spells can't do the job at all. But if you're good enough in either field to convincingly pass for Mr. Ford, why wouldn't you be able to hide or alter the appearance of a fedora? And why would you admit such a weakness to a perfect stranger? Or is it a weakness at all?
In any case, the lady introduces her companion, Hartwin-
The homunculus bows just enough to be polite, but neither speaks nor takes his attention off of you.
-and you return the courtesy by introducing your "assistant" and your four traveling companions.
The Hakubas settled on being called the "Priests" for this outing, as it seemed like the least dishonest pseudonym, save perhaps for the direct translation of their family name, which would be "Whitehorse." That would have been too close for safety's sake, both in mystical terms and mundane ones, but fortunately they concluded as much themselves without you having to say anything.
You think your choice of disguise may have inspired Ginta, however, because he introduces Ichiro as "Junior."
As Sir Roderick follows up introducing himself and his companions to the Hakubas, you note that Ms. Griffith hasn't showed up, which suggests she won't be joining the proceedings.
Fair enough. It does make sense for at least one of Mr. Pritchard's senior staff to stay behind and keep an eye on the camp, particularly when there are a few more Einzbern homunculi around, somewhere.
Once the introductions are complete and it's clear that no one else will be joining you, your expanded party starts moving towards the entrance to the Memorian compound, Mr. Pritchard and Miss Holzknecht in the lead – the former not having offered an arm to the latter, you note in passing – Hartwin finally dragging his gaze off of you to follow – though you catch him glancing back at you a few times – and Mr. Clarkson, Dr. Megalos, and the Hakubas following. Altria and Lance bring up the rear, while you…
"Miss Forest."
Briar's family don't have a surname, but they are from the Lost Woods, so the arboreal reference came pretty naturally. It's also quite safe to use, as there is no realistic way for anyone on Earth to trace the name back to its actual origin, not unless they've been directly told of the existence of the Lost Woods by you, Briar, or one of your summoned Hyruleans – and even then, quite a few of the people you have told would likely miss the reference.
By the same token, the idea of calling her "Miss Woods" comes to mind, especially since it synchs so well with the character of Marion Ravenwood from Raiders of The Lost Ark, but that might be taking the movie references a bit too far.
You're effectively the leader of the latest group of arrivals, and you're also the one with the most significant connection to the Memorians, so it kind of behooves you to be up front with the other two main authorities among the living.
Plus, this way, Hartwin won't have to keep craning his head around to stare at you in suspicion, risking neck-strain in the process. It's kind of awkward to watch, and if he happens to stumble over something while he's staring at you, Miss Holzknecht may get frustrated with him and events in general, which wouldn't really be helpful to keeping things on an even keel.
With that in mind, you move up to the head of the group, taking the open spot next to Miss Holzknecht and bracing yourself to endure the faint pressure of Hartwin's attention, now fixed firmly on your shoulders.
The walk to the dig site is short, but you have a little time to make conversation, if you feel like it. Of course, if you don't, Miss Holzknecht may take the initiative.
As you move up to the Einzbern representative's right-hand side, you swear you can feel Hartwin's gaze of suspicion intensify to a glare.
You spare a quick prayer of gratitude to the Goddesses that the Einzberns don't equip their homunculi with laser-eyes, because the back of your robe would probably be smoldering right about now if they did.
…why do you have that look on your face, Nayru?
Well…
Wait, let me guess: the pale pretty people-makers actually DO make pale pretty people with laser-eyes.
Not LASERS, specifically, but the Einzberns DO have the ability to give their homunculi certain forms of Mystic Eyes…
…
…
As incineration, petrification, and other gaze attacks fail to manifest upon your person, you set your worries aside as best you can and decide to take the opportunity to speak up.
"How has Miss Irina been doing?" you inquire.
"Well enough," Miss Holzknecht replies. "Though she has expressed some disappointment at not being able to speak with you again after your initial meeting, Dr. Jones."
Ah, yes, the soft-spoken homunculus did mention that she was hoping to hear more interesting things that would, as she put it, "Drive her family to distraction."
"Sorry to hear that," you say, more for the sake of saying it than because you feel apologetic. You DID tell Irina not to get her hopes up back then, after all. "But no issues, otherwise? Perhaps with her previous handler?"
At this, the magus laughs. "Oh, Irina was very disappointed that she wasn't there in person to see that spoiled brat's reaction to being recalled. If not for one of the homunculi in my escort being trained in Illusion Magic well enough to re-create the scene, I expect Irina would still be pouting."
"Did anything particularly interesting happen?" you wonder.
"Nothing so exciting as having to navigate a complex full of ancient death-traps or fight off a band of Nazis," comes the dry response. "But speaking for those of us who have actually had to put up with the spoiled brat in question, there was definitely a certain satisfaction in seeing Elma slowly realize that she wasn't as clever as she'd thought herself to be, and that she'd managed to get into trouble that she wasn't going to be able to get out of by throwing around hypnosis spells, homunculus labor, or her mother's name and money. I'm quite certain that Irina and the rest of the homunculi who had the misfortune of being under Elma's supervision were particularly pleased, even if most of them won't or can't admit it out loud."
Yes, you can see how they might feel that way.
Before you enter the compound, you are reminded that Hornfels the Hammerer is waiting on you to summon him to attend the event. You could do that out here, if you don't mind Miss Holzknecht and Hartwin observing the process, but you could also head inside and ask to borrow the use of one of the base's summoning circles – like the one you cleansed of demonic residue via the Spell to Burn Corruption.
…wait, are Mystic Eyes of Lasers not a thing, or just not a thing that the Einzberns can do?
…?
…?
Not "lasers," as such, although there are Eyes of Flame… but creating those is beyond the skills of the Einzberns, yes, or for that matter, any other magus I'm aware of.
Bit of both, then.
Well, good to know. Thank you for the belated warning, Lady Nayru.
You're welcome.
"Won't" or "can't"?
If Miss Holzknecht had just used one of those words, you might not have thought anything of it beyond servants respecting the dignity of their masters – even when said master is being an idiot – or just protecting themselves from potential backlash, but for her to have used both terms implies something more is at work.
So you ask. "'Won't' or 'can't'?"
"Einzbern homunculi are the finest in the world," the representative declares, not with arrogant bombast or the wheedling tones of a slick saleswoman, but as a statement of simple fact. "After nearly two millennia of development and refinement, the coining process has been refined and advanced to the point where effectively all flaws can be removed from the end product – provided that sufficient time, skill, and resources are invested in the task."
Ah. "So while you can make some homunculi perfectly, you can't make all of them perfect."
"That is unfortunately the case," Miss Holzknecht agrees. "The material costs alone increase almost exponentially, and the facilities required for such delicate work are under the direct control of the Family Head, with the time he allows for their use by others being strictly limited and thus fiercely contested. As a result, while the standards for our normal homunculi remain high, they must account for some limits of form and performance."
"A task no doubt made much easier with two thousand years of records to work with," you note.
The lady smiles. "Quite so. And to answer your question, then, some homunculi are intentionally designed without the capability to speak – or, like dear Hartwin, to lack much interest in doing so outside of issues they deem important-"
You glance over your shoulder at the bodyguard.
Red eyes simply blink, slowly, the face around them remaining largely void of expression but for that bland suspicion.
"-whereas others, whose makers were perhaps less skilled or simply preferred a less controlled approach to the coining, may develop such traits randomly," Crescentia finishes.
And she said all of that about what can be done, without revealing anything that suggests how.
Honestly, it would probably be less hassle all around if you just called Hornfels up out here. Yes, the Einzbern representative and her bodyguard will get to see the process, but with your Spell of Mind Blank up, all they'll be able to determine is that you cast a high-end, long-lasting Summoning Spell – and that's neither a unique ability that could be traced back to you, nor an action that would be giving away anything truly new or important about your capabilities.
Considering that you briefly discussed the Spell to Analyze Dweomers with Irina, you can safely assume that the Einzberns are already aware that you are capable, or at least claimed to BE capable, of casting sixth-circle spells – which is, incidentally, the exact amount of power it would take to summon Hornfels at all. Irina was also in a position to report on what your lack-of-aura felt like even while you were casting, albeit only with relatively minor spells, something which Miss Holzknecht and Hartwin will shortly be able to corroborate, so it's reasonable to assume that someone in their family will look at those reports and identify the use of Mind Blank, if they haven't done so already.
So that's grounds for the Einzberns already knowing that you have access to eighth-circle magic, or at least seventh-circle – because you can see how Mind Blank could be modified to work at that level, in exchange for only shielding its caster, and it's just so useful an effect that you can't imagine that particular variant NOT having been created at some point – meaning that when you summon Hornfels to hang around for a couple of hours, you won't be revealing a level of power outside of their expectations.
As for the Spell to Summon a Monster, that magic is so widespread, it would be stranger if you DIDN'T know at least one version of it – and there are so many different forms of the basic spell to choose from, the best the Einzberns will be able to do is rule out the ones too weak and specialized to be able to summon an Earth Elemental of Hornfels' size.
Granted, they could summon the Hammerer up themselves to try questioning him, but if you can't trust a paladin with your secrets, you can't trust anybody – and besides, the limits of the Summon Monster series mean they wouldn't be able to truly harm him, while his nature as both elemental and holy warrior would make him VERY resistant to attempts to influence or control him against his will.
Hornfels is also just powerful enough that it would take a Greater Spell of Planar Binding to call him forth in the stone, as it were, and based on your discussions with Ambrose and Balthazar, Calling Magic is not a field that the Einzberns are proficient in. They might still be able to arrange for him to be brought forth somehow – you know from how they hired Emiya Kiritsugu that they aren't above contracting outside aid to shore up their weaknesses – but then they'd have a paladin capable of passing through solid rock and strong enough to cause localized tremors on their hands, to say nothing of how whichever Power the Hammerer is ultimately in service to would react to an attempt to bind him.
For that matter, Din seemed to like Hornfels, so if he got into serious trouble, you think she'd warn you.
If it looked like he couldn't get out on his own? Yeah, I just might.
So, yeah, you think the summoning is pretty safe.
With that decided, you move away from the group a bit.
"Where are you going?" Miss Holzknecht wonders.
"There's one other guest whose travel accommodations I've agreed to handle," you reply, as you gather your power. "Luckily, he doesn't need me to go get him, he just needs a little room. With your permission, gentlemen?" you add, glancing at the guards.
"By all means," one of the soldiers replies. "But, uh, mind the walls…?"
Miss Holzknecht is visibly confused by that, and remains so right up until you finish the summoning-
*Boom*
/ I bestride this world once more! /
-and Hornfels the Hammer stands before you once again. Much like Mister Pritchard, his crystalline armor and great stone hammer look extra shiny today, clearly having been polished for the ceremony ahead.
You glance back at the Einzbern party, and see that while Miss Holzknecht has not lost her composure – though she is blinking rather quickly – Hartwin has actually stopped staring at you in favor of measuring up the new arrival.
His expression is still mostly one of bland indifference, but the slight twitch in his left cheek suggests the guardian homunculus is not quite so cool with this development as he would like to seem.
/ Greetings once more, Summoner. / The elemental's gemstone eyes cannot truly blink, but the relatively loose earth packed around them shifts in a manner that evokes squinting as he leans down for a slightly closer look. / …er, not to give offense, but have you grown since last we spoke? /
"I'm in disguise."
/ Ah, yes. I recall something about unfriendly magical eyes in the region… /
And on that cue, you introduce him to the Einzberns.
Following another round of introductions-
"Why are you moving like that?" Ichirou wonders, eyeing your peculiar body language as you relay the safe details of who everyone is to Hornfels.
"I like to keep in practice with my foreign languages, when I get the opportunity."
He looks from you to the armored elemental and then back again. "…his people communicate through interpretive dance?"
Whatever their sterling qualities, paladins are not well-known as linguists, but thanks to the Tongues Spell you cast on the Hakubas earlier, Hornfels is able to understand Ichirou's remark.
Thus, he laughs.
"You SPEAK Terran?" Miss Holzknecht exclaims aloud, sounding like she's more surprised that you can use the language without magical assistance, however imperfectly, than that you're able to use it at all.
"I speak many languages," you reply frankly. Then, wryly, you add, "Though not all of them terribly well."
Gained German E+++
"But I continue to improve."
-everyone begins moving through the gateway portal.
"A persistent spatial transportation effect?" Miss Holzknecht wonders, looking downright stunned this time. "On a DOORWAY?"
As you cross the threshold and are relocated inside the base, you note a distinct absence of the aggressive dispelling effect that was running the last time you used this arcane doorway. You suppose that's one of the advantages of being an invited guest rather than an intruder, however benevolent your intentions had been at the time.
The two guards, incidentally, accompany your group inside, apparently only having been assigned to wait for your group, rather than to keep watch until the funerary event is concluded.
You were going to say, based on your past interactions, you didn't think Captain Marcus would have left any of his men out of this. There's asking people to make personal sacrifices for the sake of duty, and then there's just being cruel, and ordering some of his fellow undead to miss out on the ceremony that will put them to rest is definitely more the latter.
In any case, the guards lead you through the old barracks, you take in what's changed since your last visit, and what hasn't. The place is still obviously a ruin, with the stone architecture worn down and cracked in a few places, half of the built-in magical lights not working – and more than a few of those which are working not doing so terribly well – and a distinct absence of furniture or decorations. Yet at the same time, the dust has been swept away, the broken pieces of equipment and furnishings that you recall have been moved out of sight if not disposed of entirely, and the bodies of the ancient dead, the still-active undead, and the twice-slain demonically-tainted bunch are likewise not in evidence, at least here.
Miss Holzknecht never stops looking around, like she's trying to commit every last inch of the premises to memory.
Hartwin, meanwhile, has stopped transmitting suspicion at you and Hornfels, in favor of broadcasting it at every doorway and side-corridor you pass. The two Memorian ghosts, in comparison, got only a brief once-over before being… not dismissed, the homunculus is definitely not ignoring them, but he clearly doesn't see these two as a threat by themselves.
You wonder what he'll make of the central hall…
On a related note, there were plans for a farewell feast. Did you dip into your stockpile of pork to help supply this, and if so, how many boars' worth of meat did you hand over to the Memorians for preparation?
"Don't worry, it's perfectly safe."
Miss Holzknecht gives you a look that you would say is about forty percent disbelief, forty percent curiosity, and twenty percent seeking reassurance.
"How can you be sure of that?" she asks, her different motivations all synergizing well with the desire to know. "It's a thousand-year-old example of a half-lost Mystery, and not one that's been well-maintained!"
One of the guardsmen winces at that, particularly when the Hakubas, who were moving forward, stop moving and start looking at the door with some uncertainty themselves – most of it on the part of Mrs. Hakuba and Miss Shizuka, admittedly, as Ginta and Ichirou both have prior experience with ancient, ill-maintained Memorian magical doorways.
"I know because this was how we got into the base to begin with," you reply, nodding at the portal. "I personally went in and out of this portal half a dozen times at least, due to how the wards on the facility interfered with various spells. Miss Forest and Sir Pritchard both made use of it as well, as did some of our other associates who couldn't be present for today's events."
The lady considers that. "…what does it feel like?"
"Physically, no different from stepping through any other doorway," you answer. "Mystically, the transition is fast enough that you shouldn't notice anything or experience any disorientation, unless you've got especially keen senses or an active spell for detecting Summoning Magic."
And you're pretty sure she doesn't have the latter, at least not active.
Miss Holzknecht eyes the portal with some continued uncertainty, but when Hartwin looks at her and gestures silently at himself and then towards the gateway with an inquisitive expression, she shakes her head, visibly gathers her resolve, and leads the way inside. Her bodyguard follows close behind.
"No giant spiders this time, right?" Ichirou asks you, half-jokingly, after the pair are through.
"Not unless someone in the legion conjured them up as a prank," you return.
Both of you pause for a moment, and then look at the guards.
"No spiders, giant or otherwise," one of the pair assures you, hands raised.
"No guarantees about there being NO pranks, though," the other adds with a smirk that's difficult to make out due to the transparency of his face.
The Memorians have had a whole Fae forest to hunt and forage in to prepare for this event, and you know that they did put in at least some effort on that front, to supplement the simpler fare that Priest Cato was scheduled to provide, but you had a whole cellar full of salted pork that was just sitting there, not getting eaten. Your magical preservation methods ensured that it wasn't going to spoil, but that's kind of missing the point.
Food, especially good food, is meant to be EATEN, darn it!
That aside, some of those boars WERE hunted by the Memorians, which makes their inclusion in this farewell feast only right and proper. On top of that, your use of a much-extended Spell of Gentle Repose to stave off spoilage and decay will resonate well with the Spell of Ghost Food when you cast it, giving the whole meal a richer flavor from the ghostly perspective.
You've actually tested that previously, using a Gate to relocate some of the pork from your Stone Cellar to the Memorian Outpost so that you and the legion's remaining cooks could work a little culinary sorcery together in preparation for this day. The resulting dish didn't taste any different to your tongue – which is to say, the meat was still excellent – even with Ghost Food-flavoring, but one of the Memorians who'd been present for your birthday celebration definitely noticed a difference, and gave it his approval.
The Spell of Gentle Repose was originally created as a method of preserving a body's suitability for revivification, not only by staving off the physical deterioration of a fresh corpse, but also by maintaining the traces of life-force and spiritual energy within flesh and blood and bone. It's those energies that most predatory undead are after when they feed on the living or the recently deceased, so it would make sense that preserving them would help with the flavor of the meat from a spectral perspective. In addition to that, months of being under a Necromantic spell would have infused the pork with the aura of that magic, providing a certain something extra even before you cast Ghost Food.
All in all, giving the Memorians free use of your stockpile of meat seemed like a worthy sacrifice. They didn't even use it all, leaving you one boar's worth of perfectly good meat for when your freezer at home finally has space.
Incidentally, the Memorians wanted to set aside one of the boars you gifted them as a sacrifice to the gods, and asked if your Goddesses would be alright with being included in that.
You don't see the Goddesses having an issue with the Memorians including them among the deities to whom an offering is owed – between your involvement, the contributions of your tutors (mostly through you, admittedly), and Navi's guidance on Faerie, they've been pretty heavily involved with the reawakening of the undead soldiers and the cleansing of their linked strongholds. And then there's how Captain Marcus and some of his men took part in the Trials on your birthday.
So yeah, a nice little sacrifice of good food should be entirely acceptable.
It did occur to you that splitting a boar four ways – and probably at least a few more besides, given that Mars isn't the ONLY god the Memorians honored – would mean considerably smaller shares for everybody involved, which had you wondering if you should offer up the last of your stored pork, to keep the portions generous.
Of course, that would mean that when the meat in your freezer at home is gone, you'd be out of island pork, unless or until you got around to hunting some more.
…
Sure, you could totally DO that, and summoning some help to make sure you preserved the stuff correctly would be even more easily done, but still, would it taste the same as meat that you hunted and killed with your friends, as part of your big birthday bash?
…
With a silent apology to the Goddesses, you kept the last boar's worth of meat for yourself – but you DID make sure to give the Memorians the largest of the pigs that had been in storage to use as their sacrifice, while keeping only the smallest!
He is weak to bacon.
It's not like more food was going to help you grow, shorty.
Come here, you-!
When you arrive at the dining hall, you find that it's been given much more attention than the straightforward dusting and removal of debris that was typical in the preceding chambers. Whether via Transformation Magic or just pulling stuff out of VERY long-term storage, they've set up rows of tables and benches in the hall that bear no signs of having been left to rot for a thousand years, hung banners on the walls – among them, you recognize the half-burnt unit standard that you recovered and did your best to repair, the remaining damage now just scars earned in dutiful service rather than dark treachery – and made sure that all the braziers are filled with Continual Flames that provide comfortable levels of light.
The undead legionaries have also cleaned themselves up a bit. Those whose bodies are solid enough to wear physical uniforms have polished their ancient armor and traded out their dusty old rags for reasonably intact clothes – there definitely must have been a storage chamber or three that you didn't get around to seeing on your prior visit – and you think at least one of the magic-users must have some training in Necromancy, because you distinctly recall seeing some charred or outright skeletal faces, which are now nowhere in evidence. The incorporeal troops haven't been able to change their attire so extensively – it's rather difficult for most ghosts to alter their base manifestations in such a way – but Captain Marcus and some of the other more familiar individuals seem to have had their armor restored, and among the crowd of phantom faces, you see no spectral skulls, no shadowed death masks, and no "ordinary" faces tense with the promise of suddenly bursting into a visage of rage and horror. The werewolves are in their human forms, and the monsters that lack such disguises nonetheless seem to have sheathed their claws and softened their more predatory features.
And then of course, there are the smells coming from the kitchen area…
Did you want to talk to anybody before the feast begins?
Spying Captain Marcus at the head of the central table, you lead your group over to him.
"Ho, the sorcerer returns!"
"And with more living ones!"
"Looks different from the last time, doesn't he?"
"Well, you know how sorcerers are."
"Yes, very sorcerous…"
There is also a disappointed burst of birdsong among the greetings and chatter, as Trill the Harpy catches sight of you in (another) adult form and realizes that headpats are off the table.
…you're not going to lie, you're a LITTLE disappointed by that yourself, but you do need your arcane dignity intact if you're going to deal with Miss Holzknecht.
Reaching the captain, you go through the business of presenting yourself and your companions again. The addition of the magical disguises and the need to talk around the two Einzberns in the room is a bit of a complicating factor, but it's not a particularly large one, given that Marcus, Magus Hermanus, and Priest Cato have all met Ginta and Ichirou before.
Once names have been exchanged, the captain welcomes all of you as guests of the legion, and has one of his men show the others where they can sit. As your companions are moving off, you remain behind.
"Problems, Sorcerer?" Marcus asks.
"Just a question regarding the Einzberns, sir," you reply.
"Go on."
"Are you alright with Memoria being discussed where the two of them can hear about it? I don't think it'll matter much, considering you'll all be departing after this, but I do want to make sure we're all on the same page before that."
"It's fine, lad," Marcus replies, nodding. "If we didn't want the alchemists to know anything, we wouldn't have allowed them to send representatives."
The captain's use of the term "alchemists" to describe the Einzberns catches your interest. And thinking back… "I don't believe I ever asked you what you knew about the Einzberns, sir."
"You did not," he agrees, "and the answer would have been, 'Not much, except that they were a significant power in the region and preferred to be left alone, unless or until they needed something.' It's comforting, in a way, to know that they're still around and still being a bunch of recluses – and also rather amusing that they missed plundering the base for all this time."
"Though it's likely a bit more complicated than that," Hermanus notes.
Oh?
"Mm. I suspect that the Einzberns likely did investigate the base some time after it fell to the traitors, but their particular craft is even more reliant on advance preparation than most other forms of magic. Give them time and a sufficiently pressing reason to act, and they could drop an army of homunculus warriors and mages on you, but walk up to a member of their clan and challenge them to a fight right then and there, and their combat potential was much lower. Which is one reason why they usually go around with a coterie of bodyguards," he adds, glancing at Miss Holzknecht and Hartwin.
So he figures that the Einzberns of a thousand years ago noticed that the Memorians had "left" the region, came in to take a look at the base, found it full of demonic undead, and decided that whatever magic items and information they might have been able to scavenge weren't really worth the trouble of cleaning the place out?
"That sounds about right," the magus agrees. "We weren't conducting alchemical research here, or even performing much actual alchemy at all, and our magical knowledge and equipment wouldn't have been anything special for the time. The Gate to Faerie would have been another matter, assuming the Einzberns had learned of its existence, but it WAS knocked out, so if they were able to determine that…" He trails off with a shrug.
So they just left the place here, and, what, eventually forgot about it?
"And now they've been reminded that the place exists, and as a bonus, someone else has already done all the messy work of clearing out the demonspawn and putting the undead to rest," Captain Marcus chimes in. "We even fixed the Gate."
And given what's been discussed of the final farewell, you know that the Memorians will be using the Gate to travel directly to the afterlife at the conclusion of the day's events… meaning even if the Einzberns didn't know about the portal before, they absolutely will when Miss Holzknecht reports on it.
…
"And none of you are worried by this?" you ask the three leaders.
"They've been sensible enough not to offend Lord Mars," Cato replies. "I doubt they would act to displease Lord Pluto."
Yeah, as bad as upsetting a war god would be, upsetting a god of the underworld would be even worse. The former can kill you, or make your life miserable until you die, but that's about the extent of it; the latter, on the other hand, has your whole afterlife to get creative with.
"But magi being magi," Marcus adds, "we're not trusting to their survival instincts alone-"
Hermanus grumbles something.
"-and we've taken a few precautions. Standard procedures and all that, just a thousand years late."
"Define 'standard procedures'."
You're not going to lie: the idea that the Memorians might have installed some sort of arcane self-destruct mechanism into their strongholds is kind of cool. You can't help but feel that it would be much more so, if you weren't just finding out about this now that you're inside one of their bases again.
Also, you had some tentative long-range plans for making use of the Earthside Base and the Faerie Outpost, but if they're going to blow up, collapse in on themselves, or something similar… well, it would be very inconvenient for those notions.
"Skipping over some of the specifics," Marcus recounts, "in the event that a legion base or similar stronghold was due to be abandoned, various materials and devices were to be removed to a secure location. Failing that, those same objects were to be thoroughly dismantled, preferably disenchanted, if not subjected to complete physical destruction."
"And even with limited manpower, you've had most of two months to work on that," you conclude.
"We have indeed." The captain scowls, and adds, "From a certain perspective, it was actually almost helpful that the traitors had done so much damage, and that everything had been left to rot or corrode over the centuries."
"It certainly simplified matters for dealing with some of the demon-tainted systems," Hermanus admits. "No need for delicate work, just add cleansing fire."
"Hear, hear," Cato chimes in.
Yeah, when it comes to disposing of demons and their influence, you can definitely understand the appeal of the incendiary approach…
"But what about the Gate, then?" you ask. "You're still planning to use that to travel to the Underworld, right?"
"We are."
"So… what, is the base going to start a countdown to self-destruct after you march through?"
"'Self-destruct'?" Marcus wonders, trading puzzled glances with his peers.
Ah. Either your grasp of Latin isn't quite good enough to convey the concept, or they don't have it.
Whichever is the case, you quickly explain the phrase-
Gained Latin C++
-and after being enlightened to what you meant to say, the three commanders assure you that's not the case.
"Not that I can't see the utility in asset- and information-denial, or when you want to kill a few more invading enemies," Hermanus admits, "but that seems like a system with entirely too little benefit for the effort you'd have to invest into setting it up. Not to mention, I'm baffled at how anyone stationed to a place like that could be expected to get anything DONE, knowing that there was essentially a series of Delayed Blast Fireballs waiting to go off just under their feet…"
…you suppose that would be a downside, at least for mortal armies. Ganondorf's top forces never seemed to have a problem with operating in strongholds that tended to go down with their creator, but then, they were mostly demons, undead, constructs, and magic-users powerful enough to have a good chance of saving themselves, and such beings tend to have distinctly skewed priorities compared to common soldiers.
Also, after a few rounds through the reincarnation cycle, most of the Hyrulean hordes were probably expecting to get killed by Link before they ever had to worry about the roof falling on them…
"Don't worry about the Gate here, lad," Marcus assures you. "We've taken steps to have it deal with itself once we're through. If you feel like putting in your own efforts afterwards, by all means, feel free."
You just might.
Is there anything else you want to say at this time?
"On a separate but slightly related note…" you say then.
"Yes?"
"So, I found this magical helm a while back…"
You proceed to provide the trio with a quick summary of the history of the Mask of Vulcan and its creator, and also a description of the item's various powers. Then, since they are worshippers of the Roman gods in general, you ask them if they have any advice on how you should go about returning the Mask to the Forge-God.
"In our time, it would have been a simple matter of finding a temple of the Fire-Allayer, and returning their fellow's work to them," Priest Cato says promptly. "I am given to understand that would be… difficult, these days."
That's one way of putting it, yes. It's not impossible that there's still worshippers of Vulcan out in the world – it's a big world, after all – but they're definitely not anything like as common as they would have been a millennium ago, not to mention how they would likely be far more private about their beliefs.
"Another option, which I would recommend to those with… considerably lesser magical means at their command-"
Heh.
"-would be to find the nearest volcano, pray to Lord Vulcan, and then pitch the helm into the lava as a sacrifice," Cato continues. "Not an ideal approach, but one respectful enough to avoid his ire, especially since it would prevent the misuse of a great work of one of his faithful, and one bearing the god's own name, no less."
You nod, taking that under advisement as Plan V. "But since I have considerably greater magical means at my command?" you inquire further.
"Then you might try contacting an emissary of Lord Vulcan directly, and just handing the relic over," the priest tells you.
"Would the Spell of Planar Binding suffice for that?"
The priest grimaces at that, obviously recognizing the spell and its somewhat suspect nature, but he nods. "It would, as long as you minded your manners and minimized the aspects of that spell that turn it into a trap."
"There are extremely valid reasons for those safety measures, Cato," Hermanus interjects.
"For one not of the faith to demand services from the servants of the gods is questionable enough as it is, without imprisoning and coercing them in the bargain," the priest returns.
Ah, the merits and faults of Planar Binding, as argued by arcanists and theurgists. You've had discussions of this sort with your tutors in the course of your magical studies, although those were a bit less sharp than what you're hearing now.
From those conversations, you know that just as there are certain substances that can be added to the calling diagram used when casting the "secured" form of the Spell of Planar Binding to make it even more stable, or how the true names of powerful beings can be used to compel them, there are also ways to make the whole process… not comfortable, exactly – getting torn away from your prior location and affairs against your will and without warning is the sort of thing you doubt could ever be anything less than annoying – but certainly less offensive to the entity brought forth. Certain objects or actions offered up as gifts to demonstrate your intent and relative goodwill, their nature differing between every type of creature.
Priests, of course, can bypass the need for much of that sort of thing just by contacting the agents of their patrons… well, priests and others capable of casting the Spell to Call a Planar Ally. You wouldn't be able to summon entities that don't serve the Golden Goddesses that way, but perhaps you could get a Hyrulean celestial to act as an intermediary between you and the servants of Vulcan? Establish your credentials and get permission for you to call someone, or maybe just take the Mask to them directly?
It would probably be most convenient, not to mention most likely to get you full credit for the good deed of returning the Mask, if you dealt with Vulcan's servants directly. With that in mind, you ask Cato for advice on fine-tuning your calling methods.
As it happens, while Cato is familiar with the various common-use rituals that invoke Vulcan – entreaties to ward off, contain, or unleash flames, blessings for forge-work, that sort of thing – he's never had cause to make contact with any of the Fire God's servants or do any serious study of them, so he can't give you any names to conjure with.
But the basic preparations to support such callings in general? Those he knows, having seen them in use in certain ceremonies by his fellow priests, and has no issue with passing on the details.
Writing parts of the summoning array in ash – especially volcanic, if you can get it, and preferably as fresh as possible – or desert sand, making a sacrifice of an enemy's weapons, and of course, having a fire present.
"Ideally, you'd have three specific fires," Cato explains. "One being the hearth of the landlord, the second being the sacrificial flame itself, and the third being a defensive fire to the south of the sacred space, to ward off evil influences and keep the ritual pure."
…hm. Tricky. You know enough about Fire Magic and divine rites that setting up the latter two types of flame wouldn't be an issue, but your current landlord doesn't actually have a hearth. Not unless the basement furnace counts, anyway, which you have your doubts about…
"And since Lord Vulcan is also the patron of professions relating to ovens," the priest adds, "offerings of baked goods are also common."
…
What, really?
Cato grins. "That one always surprises people."
You can guess why. When you think "forge god," you picture a powerfully-built individual focused on his craft, not a guy with a taste for cookies or pie – but everybody's got to eat some time.
You might have to try that, provided that you can source the baked goods from a place that uses traditional flame cooking, or at least a gas oven. Electric ones might not cut it, unless Vulcan has branched out in recent decades…
Thanking Cato, you take your leave for the moment, heading over to where your mortal companions have been seated.
"Everything all right?" Ichirou wonders.
"Just sorting out some things," you reply, before turning to the Einzbern pair – Hartwin fidgeting slightly on the bench next to Miss Holzknecht for some reason. "On a related note, Miss Holzknecht, feel free to ask questions, whether of the Memorians or myself – just keep in mind that the answers you get depend on the question and who it's being asked of."
She nods. "I had expected as much. And as my first question," she adds, smiling slightly, "what DID you just discuss with the leaders of these spirits?"
While there are a couple of things left on your to-do list before the feast officially begins, you can spare Miss Holzknecht a minute to answer her question – at least in part. You have no particular reason to disclose everything you just discussed with Captain Marcus and the others, but there's a fair bit of information you can discuss without giving away anything potentially sensitive.
"Mostly, what was going to happen to this place after they left," you admit frankly. "Captain Marcus – that's the one at the head of the table," you add.
The magus glances in that direction and nods, obviously committing the man's shade to memory.
"Anyway, he said that they had 'standard procedure' for when a base like this had to be abandoned, and perhaps it was just the influence of my disguise talking, but I was concerned they might have been planning to activate a self-destruct function that they hadn't mentioned before."
Miss Holzknecht isn't the only one to give you a concerned look at that.
"The good news is, they don't have anything like that."
There is a general sense of relief at your words, although-
"And what might the bad news be, then?" Miss Holzknecht inquires.
-that response is not universal.
"The bad news is that they have taken steps to dismantle, disenchant, or otherwise destroy a lot of the items that will be left behind," you answer. "Particularly the stuff that was contaminated by the demons – Magus Hermanus implied that they just set that stuff on fire."
She is visibly torn at this.
On the one hand, the magus part of her has to approve of the practice of magical information security.
On the other hand, the magus part of her is also frustrated by the imminent loss of a lot of thousand-year-old magical items.
But at the same time, she's happy not to have to deal with tainted materials.
"Aside from that," you go on, "I took the chance to discuss a few details of religious ceremony with Priest Cato, before the party got started. And on that note, I have one more guest to invite – if you'll all excuse me?"
Crescentia rather looks like she's about to offer to come with you, but whatever she meant to say is interrupted as Hartwin reaches one hand out in front of her – not actually touching her – and when he has her attention, wordlessly shaking his head.
Huh. Even if he's just acting to keep his charge from wandering away from the crowd of witnesses and into the dim unknowns of the base, you may owe the homunculus one for that.
Miss Holzknecht huffs but accedes to her bodyguard's judgment.
As you leave, you ask Hornfels – who is sort of sitting, and sort of just piled up in a large space that was left clear between some of the tables and one of the gallery entrances to the dining hall – if he's comfortable.
/ I am well enough, Sorcerer, / the paladin assures you, breaking off from the heavily gesture-based conversation he was engaged in with one of the handful of the base's magic-users. / Who might you be off to fetch? /
"A lady you haven't met as yet," you answer. "I'll be sure to introduce you."
/ I shall look forward to it. /
Due to her disguise, Briar remains behind while you go to get her mother, as you make your way through the halls alone, heading towards the summoning chamber where you and your Shadow very, VERY briefly faced that demon, you take note of the state of the place.
The lights are dimmer in these chambers, similar to where you entered, and since you don't have half a dozen pairs of eyes following you now, you spare yourself a minute here and there to look into various side-corridors and rooms you pass. Here, an obvious weapons locker stands empty of the gear it should contain; there, a room of uncertain provenance bears evidence of a relatively recent fire, soot blackening a patch of the floor and nearby walls; and when you come to the intersection near the command room, you look in and wince at the state of the control arrays, which have been variously smashed, melted, or just disappeared entirely.
The trend continues as you enter the workshop area, although you also find many of the old spell components and lesser implements have been left alone, as have some of the potions. Considering a lot of those have decayed or spoiled over the centuries of neglect, you can see why the legion mages didn't waste time disposing of them. You take a closer look at the detritus as you pass through, just in case there's anything here that the Memorians missed or that might be useful to you… but no, it's all the same junk that you saw before.
When you get to the summoning circle, you aren't surprised to find that the diagram has been heavily defaced, although that does seem to be the only difference from your prior visit. Then again, you and your Shadow DID flood this chamber with the purple flames of the Spell to Burn Corruption; that was probably enough to clear out the lion's share of the taint.
The circle isn't necessary for Navi's arrival, of course; you just wanted the excuse to put some distance and some good solid walls between yourself and Miss Holzknecht before you got in touch with a lady on another plane. Even in its current state, the accumulated history of this chamber and its use in summoning rituals makes it a good site for establishing contact with other realities, whether or not any actual inter-planar travel takes place, and that will help confuse the Einzberns as to what exactly you did here.
On that note, you've been working a Spell of Sending for most of your trek through the empty halls of the base, and after a couple minutes more, you enact the magic and let Navi know she's clear to come through.
When the Great Fairy appears a moment later, you see that she's dressed… pretty much the same as every other time you've seen her.
…eh, Fae. What are you going to do?
Aside from letting Navi know about the Einzbern guests, do you have anything you want to discuss with her?
After welcoming Navi to the Memorian Base-
"I love what they've done with the place," the Great Fairy replies, looking around at the scorch marks and the torn-up circle. She pauses, sniffs lightly, and then adds, "Is that charbroiled demon I smell?"
"Yeah, there was a cultist trying to summon a… thing," you reply. "I set it on fire before it got all the way across."
"Ah, a classic."
-you start leading her back through the twisty passages to the workshop, explaining about the presence of the Einzbern observers and your use of magical disguises and wards to keep them from figuring out who you, Briar, or the Hakubas are.
"I'd wondered why you were wearing somebody else's face," she says. "Alchemists, huh?"
"Or magi specializing in alchemy, if there's a difference?"
"Probably, but I don't have much experience with alchemists of any sort, or with Earth-local arcanists, so…" She shrugs. "Since you've met these folks, what do you suppose would work best with them? Trying to pass for a mortal, showing up with the full Fae glamor, or shooting for somewhere the middle?"
You consider that for a moment.
With the immediate concern addressed, you take the opportunity to catch Navi up on some recent events – in particular, certain things you've learned about Hyrule, or rather, magical items originally from that corner of the cosmos.
Considering that the whole reason you even met the Memorians in the first place is because Navi sent you after the Mirror of Shadows, she's not surprised to learn that another Hyrulean artifact made its way to Earth.
That the Skull Mask belonged to somebody she'd actually MET, on the other hand, definitely prompts a startled response, which quickly shades into dismay, anger, and pity when you recount what that particular trickster went through, and what ultimately happened to him, courtesy of Majora's Mask - whose current location, you note, is unknown to you.
"…well, then," the Great Fairy says with a huff, once you've finished. "That was… certainly something to hear. I'll be sure to put some antennae out when I get back, try to find this possessing Mask before it drops any more moons on anyone... I don't suppose you have this Skull Mask on you?"
Not at the moment, no. It didn't really seem like the sort of thing to bring to this event.
Navi nods. "Well, the next time you get a chance to call me, I'd like to see it."
You'll make a note on your calendar. Somewhere.
After that bit, the other piece of Hyrule-related news – that the Demon Lord Ghirahim who you observed in the Ring of Trials is actually a demonically empowered sword, and still exists in a location known to and considered secure by the Goddesses – has a lot less of an emotional impact.
"Good to know," Navi replies. "I may have to look into that, too, if only because a weapon that is kind of the antithesis to the Master Sword is the sort of thing that would pretty much HAVE to show up again, at some point…" She shakes her head, and then frowns at you in a way that seems at least a little teasing, but has enough Mom Energy behind it to make you nervous on general principle. "In the meantime, what is this I hear about you making deals with some half-Fae Virespawn calling herself 'Mistress of the Dark', young sorcerer?"
Show up as a Great Fairy. You can probably spook Miss Holzknecht this way.
Navi's laugh at that moment reminds you of the cackle that Briar has occasionally allowed herself when you've done or been about to do something of a prankish nature. The Great Fairy follows it up by letting her wings out, so that they trail behind her for several feet like a cape or the train of a gown, instead of being tucked in behind and about her shoulders. The faint, barely-there glow of her presence increases ever so slightly, just enough to be apparent without being annoying, and motes of light begin to glitter upon and about her person – particularly along her wings – winking in and out of existence.
And then she pulls a curiously plain-looking wooden tiara out of nowhere and settles it on her head. Almost at once, the item shifts and twists in place, the curved designs running along its surface thickening outward to become vines of ivy, while tiny buds swell into three dimensions, then enlarge, and then split open to reveal a neat, nearly-symmetrical assortment of flowers and berries.
"That should do for this event," she notes, giving the living crown a minor adjustment.
"The Fae equivalent of formalwear?" you venture.
"Semi-formalwear, anyway."
"HAIL!"
Navi blinks once, slowly, in response to your sudden exclamation, but rather than appearing baffled by it, she is rather obviously awaiting an explanation.
You are reminded, then, that the young-looking lady before you is one that has managed to keep over a hundred young fairies alive for more than a century, some of them even growing up to various degrees, without losing a single one of them to accident, deliberate malice, or their own foolishness.
In other words, the Mom is indeed strong with this one, and you find yourself answering the unspoken question almost automatically.
"So, funny story. Vira – that's the half-Fae half-Vire lady in question?"
"Original," Navi drawls wryly. "But go on."
"Right, so, she has this flock of Fae bats hanging around her lair… literally, I mean…"
The explanation doesn't take much time, but it lasts just long enough for you to start hearing the sounds of the impending feast again. Navi seems to take this as a cue to get into character, as it were, relaxing the obvious Mom attitude and bringing the Great Fairy role to the front.
Getting with the spirit of things, you clear your throat as the dining hall comes into view.
She knows you went to get her mother, she should be expecting something.
Briar knows you, and she knows her mother.
If she hasn't anticipated the possibility of some kind of shenanigans ensuing because you were left alone together for ten minutes, that's on her.
Though you may extend some consideration for the fact that she's trying to keep up a consistent portrayal of a fake identity that doesn't give away too much about her real self to the magus or homunculus in the room.
But only some.
"Presenting Lady Navi!" Short and simple. The Einzberns can try to conjure by it at their own risk.
There was no way you were getting through this without giving up Navi's name, so just going ahead and introducing her upon arrival costs you nothing. Mention of the Lost Woods, on the other hand, is information you can hold back. You have your doubts the Einzberns could reasonably do anything with it, given the primary focus of their magecraft doesn't involve other planes or the denizens thereof, but you do have to consider that they may know someone who could make use of the knowledge, and that the alchemists would have sufficient leverage on to consider sharing it.
And while you really doubt there are many, if any magi out there capable of calling Navi herself, the Lost Woods do house a great many beings that would be much, much easier to bring forth on Earth than a Great Fairy, whether via typical summoning or through a more lasting magic. That sort of thing is certainly a risk better not taken, be it for the sake of those woodland creatures' continued good health, the sake of your humble trans-planar trading enterprise and semi-monopoly on Hyrulean spell components here on Earth, or the sake of your good name with the kingdom's magical authorities.
Honestly, in that instance, you'd be less worried about Link coming after you than you would be about Queen Zelda bringing the weight of the legislature down on you and your interests.
With Link, you can at least stab him back, but you legitimately wouldn't know where to start if somebody took you to court…
Do they even have lawyers in Hyrule?
You might be surprised.
I know I sure am, by the places Bacon Boy's brain occasionally goes…
Anyway, you announce Navi to the room-
"WELCOME!" a lot of spectral voices call out.
"We've a seat ready!"
"The hell you say, she's sitting over here!"
"Says you and what legion?"
-and escort her to the seat of her choosing.