Invent (The Completionist Chronicles Book 7), page 27
Congratulations! Under the watchful eye of an Expert Blacksmith, you have created your first ever Rare-ranked forged item.
Skill increase: Ritualistic Forging (Student 0 -> Student I).
Item created: Ebonsteel Eternal Coffee Mug. Durability: 5,000/5,000. This mighty Coffee Mug, made from ebonsteel, offers a nigh-unbreakable defense, especially against coordinated attacks and smaller ballistics. The design was perfected throughout the ages, though this mug was first forged for a General on the front lines of the 58th of 100 waves on Jotunheim, as he struggled to defend that Plane’s first and—to this day—final city.
The Coffee Mug’s edges are embellished with small metal studs and have been set with decorative gems. Its circumference is ornamented with intertwining metalwork, and the item is ready to receive up to two minor—or one major—enchantments. It's clear this Coffee mug has yet to be used by its master. This mug was created by Joe ‘Anti-mage’ for his favored coffee elemental.
“That’s… different.” Joe squinted at his template, noting that it was indeed an aged document. “Is it just me, or does personal gear have a lot more lore attached to it?”
“Unless you’re making new stuff all the time, you’re going to be able to see some of the history attached to whatever it is you’re making.” The Expert smith had a shrewd smile on his face as he looked over the reputation he had just earned for offering a few pointers here and there as Joe worked. “Think of it as a way to always be remembered, yeah? Like when someone makes one of these particle-buildings you’re putting up, they’ll always be reminded that they weren't the first to make it. You were.”
“Not bad.” Joe’s head bobbed as he took all that information in. “I can totally get behind that. Now, at long last… Mate, your new home!”
The coffee elemental swirled into existence from Joe’s sleeve stain and inspected the coffee mug. It dripped a few ounces of hot liquid into the opening, then sloshed in excitedly. A moment later, the coffee mug and elemental began releasing light, and were soon too blinding to look at directly. Joe threw his hand in front of his face. “What’s happening?”
What? Mate is evolving!
“Elementals can evolve? That’s a thing here?” Joe looked to the smith, who shrugged and continued to watch the show.
Congratulations! Mate has evolved into AutoMate, and can now use its abilities from a storage device. No more stains on your clothing!
AutoMate has gained new abilities! Here’s a handy list!
Auto Over-caffeinate: Similar to a traditional Haste spell, Auto Over-caffeinate increases all effects of physical and mental characteristics by 10% for 10 minutes. Can be used once per day! The negatives of this ability have been removed.
Proper Presentation: No matter what liquid is poured into AutoMate’s Mug, AutoMate will exchange it for coffee and store the other liquid for use at another time of your choosing. Great for dinner parties, tasting amateur brews, and blocking attempted assassinations! Try storing your own blood for a handy anti-bleed IV drip at a time of your choosing!
Eternal Ebonsteel Encasement: Once per month, AutoMate can encase your physical form in Ebonsteel and block one attack—a blow that must involve a physical component—that would otherwise reduce your health to zero. Damage absorbed cannot exceed durability, and AutoMate’s mug must be repaired in order for the durability to be regained.
In order to evolve again, AutoMate must be provided an Artifact at minimum. Remaining possible evolutions: 1.
“Abyss, Mate. Er… AutoMate.” Joe looked at the jewel-encrusted coffee mug, noting that the liquid within was so dark that peering inside was like looking into the depths of a starless sky. “That was some pretty impressive upgrading. Thank you for being so patient with me on this; I’m sure you’ve been wanting to get stronger as well.”
*Bubble!*
“Is that actual ebonsteel?” The Expert smith stepped forward, hungry eyes locked on the mug. “You used it to make a coffee mug? Are you out of your mind? I’ll give you five… no, ten thousand reputation for it right now! Twenty, if you give me a week to gather it!”
“I… this is a creature now? So, no, but thank you?” Joe regarded the template in his hand, then the panting Dwarf. “I can make another if you want to buy it, though.”
“Yes! This will allow for the repair of… ahhh. Right. Listen, don’t make it into a mug; just give me the ingots!” the Expert pleaded as he attempted to transfer reputation to the human.
Joe shook his head. “I can’t. That isn’t how my abilities work.”
“Okay, whatever you need!” The Dwarf backed down instantly, waving his hands non-threateningly.
Nonplussed over the situation—the simultaneously demanding and reticent Dwarf—Joe decided that now was a good time to take in some volcanic air. He likely had a few more days before the actual negotiations began, so he decided to take a stroll around the small bazaar that had sprung up in the ‘Elf fans’ sector which the Dwarves had cordoned off. He was looking at a houseplant—which he was almost sure housed a camouflaged listening device—when a voice next to him almost startled him into blasting out of pure reflex.
“Oh, so this is where you’ve been hiding, hmm? Somewhere my long-range hunters cannot find you, yes? Inside a volcano?” Herr Trigger stood still and smug, with Major Cleave’s axeblade pressed to his throat. He looked at her disdainfully, reaching up to flick the blade uncaringly. “Oh, yes, how scary. Please show my patrons that this is all a waste of time. I beg you… press deeper.”
“Major!” Joe barked as his personal guard moved to follow through on the taunt. “Let him go. If he’s here, that means the Elves brought him as part of their Elite unit.”
“Hmm, he can think, it seems.” Herr Trigger’s lips were twitching as he watched Joe work to comport himself and his people professionally. “You know, I never thought that my skills and desires would find such a welcome home with the Elves. Everyone told me that guns were useless. That I would never manage to make them viable in a wide market. Yet… here I am!”
“Yeah, here you are,” Joe scoffed as he observed the pressed trench coat the man was wearing in the near-sweltering heat and humidity, “using something that only you and your close allies can access. Not exactly a ‘wide market’, is it?”
“Ahh, but that is why it is oh so sweet.” The man stepped closer in an effort to loom over Joe, gazing through perfectly round lenses that Joe recognized as tiny auto-focusing scopes which could be set into position in an instant. No wonder the guy’s long-range shots were so accurate. “Only I, and those close to me, have the most powerful individual weapons in the history of the world in our palms. This gets us access to… ahh… exclusive content.”
“A whole new world, and you’re still stuck on what we already had.” Joe turned and started walking away, only for Trigger to roughly grab his arm and half-turn him.
“Stuck on…? You have no idea what I gave up to be here. I had the ideal life!” The man’s accent was gone, but Joe couldn’t place the new diction at all. Most likely somewhere in America or England, but he couldn’t be certain. The man took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, the now-clearly-fake accent was back. “Do you know why I have been able to establish my career here, micro-enchanting bullets? I had an entire workshop of my own where I painted competition-winning minis!”
“You…” Joe flexed his Exquisite Shell, and Herr Trigger’s hand lost its grip, allowing the Reductionist to fluidly step away. “You mean to tell me that you went from painting dolls for fantasy conventions to being an actual assassin? You’re right, that is quite the shift. You even modeled yourself after a cartoon character for children? I can’t even begin to imagine what your life was like. I’d compare backstories with you, but you aren’t worth my time. I think I’ll just let you read the biography when it’s written. Make sure to leave a review; I’m sure it’ll be well-received.”
Once more, Joe walked away. Three guards descended on the gunsmith, forcing him to return to his delegation, since he had been causing trouble in the town. Joe surreptitiously glanced down at a thin needle, his taglock, which he had managed to poke into Herr Trigger while he had been focused on grabbing at Joe’s arm.
Taglock: current storage, 1 drop of blood from [Herr Trigger].
“Now I don’t even need to have him in view,” Joe muttered softly as he stored the item away. “The minute he starts causing trouble, or this negotiation ends, I get to try out my new Ritual Orb setup.”
Now that the Elves had arrived, there was very little that Joe could do to improve the area without setting off alarm bells that would smash the fragile armistice to smithereens. What he could do was all the preparatory work for the moment when everything was completed. Over the next few hours, he set up a ritual to create the first monument in his town, the Ritual Ziggurat. He was so excited to make this small structure, even if he wasn’t entirely certain what it would do when it was up. He enthusiastically shrugged. “Can’t be nothing!”
Cheered up by being inane, Joe decided that he would get his bubble travel ritual ready as well. If he wanted it to work perfectly, he needed to do quite a lot of math. Gravity was different than Earth-normal here, stronger, even if he didn’t really think about it too much anymore. After accounting for the strange forces on this plane, he needed to figure out what angle would deposit him outside the city that he wanted to approach. There was a good chance that the Dwarves would blast him out of the sky if he accidentally landed too close.
Getting caught up in that plan was a fun distraction, and after a few hours of calculations, he had the ritual ready for activation. Leaving it out in the open risked someone else activating or damaging it, but that was fine by him. In fact, it made him chuckle like a villain from a children show at the thought. “If they activate it, they get sent to the Capital. Damage it… welp, it’s a Rare-ranked ritual. They can only mess it up once. We should be able to hear the explosion all the way in the Shoe if they do.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
“Before we begin…” Aten addressed the room at large as the two groups of leaders for the Elves and Dwarves remained standing on their respective sides of the table. “I would like to address the deal that was made by each party represented here today. Representing the Dwarven Oligarchy, the Council of Five is in attendance.”
Even Joe, with his Perception score being... perhaps not the highest in the room, could see that the hand of the Guild Commander was shaking slightly from the pressure of being in an enclosed space with such high-ranked, high-leveled people. Joe was standing in a viewing room, and even there he was being buffeted by the power coming off of the people in waves. It wasn't the same as being in the presence of King Henry and Queen Marie, which had felt like the power of an overwhelming force on the way to slaughter you.
No, coming from the Dwarves was a titanic wash of relaxation, a heady buzz that made him feel like he was three drinks in, accompanied by a burning desire to let his guard down and make a deal with them. All Joe wanted was to give them anything they wanted. He wanted to work for them, no… he wanted to serve them.
Conversely, the leaders of the Elves in the room emitted a sensation of piercing light, as if he had been adrift on the ocean in a row boat with no protection from the sun for days. It was a feeling of deep scrutiny, as if the surface layer of his body was scorched away in order to allow the Elves to see deeper into what made him tick; as if to delve into his most hidden self and ascertain his true thoughts about… everything.
“I can't tell what’s worse, feeling like I would give in to anything demanded of me with no questions asked, or rapidly boiling away just because someone glared at me.” Joe’s low comment gathered agreement from everyone else in the small room, no matter whose side they were on.
“Representing the Elven Theocracy: the King, Queen, Crown Prince, and Princess Royal are in attendance.” Aten continued speaking formally, ending the introductions by placing a sheet of parchment carefully on the table. Lightning was playing across its surface, and the relief on his face when he released it was evident to all. “The Armistice order, which you have all signed, guarantees us all a small period of peace during which all of us can let down our guards enough to have a conversation. From myself and my guild, may I say… we are incredibly honored that you would work with us to engage in a dialogue such as this. Truly, it is a monumental event for the entirety of our people.”
“Yes, yes.” One of the Oligarchs waved his hand lazily, “We all know what the Armistice says. None of us may attack the other through direct or indirect means. Any attacks carried out by our forces that we have any knowledge of whatsoever, or that we approve of either directly or implicitly, will result in a painful, permanent death. Can we move on?”
“I see that the Dwarves are still picking and choosing which traditions they should honor,” the Crown Prince commented ‘quietly’ to his family. “Thank you for this opportunity to observe our enemies, Mother; Father.”
“Just like old times,” one of the Oligarchs wheezed to his compatriots. “This conversational zone on the table, though lovely and well-made, simply allows the most rigorously tried and tested art form of Elven culture to thrive. Nothing they say can be called a direct insult, and yet…”
“If I may finish.” The fact that Aten was able to interrupt over the mounting pressure of the two hostile forces, forcefully and with meaning directed at both, stunned the groups into silence. “The Armistice will end either when one side shows not only hostile intent, but takes action to put it into effect; or whenever both parties have removed themselves a minimum of fifty miles from this location and each other.”
There was a short pause, which the Guild Commander refused to allow someone else to fill. “While we may not be able to reach an agreement immediately, as you are both able to speak for your entire respective races, we might be able to start finding some neutral ground. Speaking of neutral ground, that is our first issue of the day. My guild desires the ability to offer succor to both the Dwarves and the Elves, in addition to those aligned with either faction. As a gesture of goodwill, the Theocracy has moved to request that this town be resettled in a different location and set as a neutral territory for the benefit of both countries.”
“Nope, don’t like that,” Joe growled to himself, inadvertently and preemptively mirroring the stink that was raised by the Oligarchy in the next room over. The next several hours slowly devolved into ‘you did this’ and ‘well, you did that’, while not even a single point had yet to be agreed upon.
Joe was starting to doze off in his chair when he felt a light hand on his shoulder. He turned bleary eyes up to find Daniella’s worried face looking down at him. “Can I speak to you for a moment? Privately?”
“I’m really not supposed to leave the building, I'm pretty sure.” Joe's brow furrowed as he processed what he had just said out loud. “Actually, I don't know why I said that; that was never discussed with anyone. Can I come back if I leave? Yes? Great. Yeah, let's step outside. Everything okay?”
“Oh, absolutely, everything is perfectly wonderful. I just think we need to talk.” Daniella’s tone made even the people suspiciously listening in shudder and turn their attention and eyes away from the duo. Joe's eyes narrowed; as certain as the sun produced light, he was not about to let someone chew him out for some unknown reason. He stiffly stood and marched after the lovely architect, a few people glancing over at him just to smirk.
Once they were fully outside of the building, Joe crossed his arms and glared at her. “I don't know why you’re mad at me, but I will tell you this right now… you don't get to talk to me like that. Yes, you are highly skilled and strangely alluring, really good at your job, every report about you that comes back is glowing, and all of your co-workers really like you, but I'm still-”
“Let's pause while you’re still giving me oddly nice compliments.” Daniella met his gaze with a tight smile. “My apologies for acting like that in public, but I needed to have a good reason to get you out of there without raising any suspicions or making people nervous. Something is going on; I noticed a lot of people I've never seen before coming out of the Guildhall. None of them went in, which means they’re coming across the teleporter.”
Joe blinked at the sudden shift, then his eyes narrowed and his jaw firmed up. “Who were they? Did you see anyone you recognized at all? Did you follow them? Where were they going?”
“Easy on the interrogation, detective!” Daniella started jogging, waving for him to follow her. “There was only one person that I somewhat recognized from rumors. Apparently, you got in an argument with someone in the market area? Tall guy, blond, black trench coat?”
“Herr Trigger,” Joe growled as he pulled up the town administration tab in his character sheet and turned off spawning and teleportation into the area. He also ordered the system to take a screenshot of all the people with access to the teleporter, and anyone who had been activating it in the last few hours. “Let's grab a couple of guards on our way.”
“No!” Daniella’s quick reply instantly raised Joe’s guard. “If we make a mess out of this and everything gets blown out of proportion, there won’t be a second attempt at negotiations. Probably not ever. We can't miss this opportunity. Think of the technological advances the Theocracy could achieve, and the magical advances the Oligarchy would be able to put to good use. Both sides have so much to gain, and so much to lose!”
Double-checking his defenses, Joe grabbed three of his Ritual Orbs and set them to orbit around his head. He slowed down slightly, allowing Daniella to pull ahead so that he could keep a close eye on not only the surroundings, but her. Something about the way she had listed the Theocracy first in her point about gaining benefits ruffled his feathers.
She didn't ever look back, fully expecting that he was with her. Taking a hard left, the architect skidded to a halt as they came to the side of a building. Specifically, a warehouse for dry goods that had been smashed into. Joe glared at the hole, wondering why he hadn’t gotten any notifications of damage to his buildings. Then he realized that he hadn’t even seen the breach until he was standing just a few feet away from it. Something was fishy. He muttered under his breath, “Essence Cycle.”
