Mage Tank

“This is incredible,” I said. “Thank you, it’s perfect.”

“Perfect would be if it turned all your enemies to treasure with a single touch,” Khigra replied. “But I think this is not too far behind.” She placed her hands on her hips and gave the hammer a conflicted look. “The weapon has a strong will. It would slip away whenever I tried to guide it until I allowed it to lead me where it wished.”

“It uh, has a mind of its own?”

Khigra’s look of amusement returned. “Dream-forged weapons are connected to their wielder. It would be better to say that you made the process more complicated.”

“Hmm. I have the urge to apologize but also wouldn’t know what I’d be apologizing for.”

Khigra chuckled. “Do not apologize for existing. The hammer was argumentative, but did not truly fight with me.” She shrugged. “It made good points, so I allowed it to take control.” The dream forger locked eyes with me. “That is not something I normally allow.”

Now I understood what Khigra had been conflicted about. The woman hated to lose unless losing meant she’d gain more than if she’d won. Our final few spars were filled with… similar moments. The hammer hadn’t let her influence its growth, but she was happy with the result nonetheless.

“Then it lost the ability to transform because I didn’t like it?” I asked.

“It was a compromise,” Khigra answered. “It made room for more powerful secondary effects. If I read the weapon correctly, you rarely used the feature.”

I nodded. There had been moments where morphing the hammer midswing had been useful, but all my power was focused on throwing techniques.

“You’re right,” I said. “The regen, penetration, and damage boosts are more useful to me. Can you tell me about the final effect? What does Empower mean?”

She shifted her weight, considering her response. “How much do you know about evolving items?” she asked.

“I know that I have two of them,” I answered. “Other than that, they change over time?”

“Time is too vague a measure, but close enough. Most of what I create are static items, created to serve a function, much as a normal smith would do here in the–” She paused and looked around, seeming to remember where she was. “To be honest, I am uncertain if this space is considered to be in the First Layer or not.”

“Closer to the First than the Third,” Xim helpfully volunteered.

Khigra furrowed her brow at Xim’s answer but moved on. “Regardless, most of what I create is traditionally smithed. Only a minority are dream forged. Fewer still are those that can evolve.

“Evolving items can be powerful, but they are expensive, difficult to create, highly specialized, and require continual use to advance to the next stage. Often, while the wielder is struggling to advance their evolving item, they have become capable of wielding something else that is more powerful. For most, it is cheaper, easier, and more effective to purchase a normal weapon and replace it soon after they outgrow it.”

“Yeah, I had a similar experience with my amulet,” I said. “It was useless for a long time while I tried to satisfy its next requirement.”

“So you understand the difficulties,” she said. “Good. For your hammer, it did not matter that it was expensive since you did not pay for it. I am one of the best dream forgers alive, so the difficulty was also not an issue.”

“Have you ever been accused of lacking self-confidence?” asked Xim.

“No,” Khigra answered.

“I didn’t think so.”

Khigra took the comment in stride and refocused on me. “Your hammer became highly specialized, but because it was dream forged it was specialized in a way that uniquely suited you. Finally, our choice of concepts when forging the weapon gave it an unusual growth mechanism.

“You prioritized Intelligence, so the hammer is now more advanced than any normal item you could wield at your level. However, evolving items have a growth ceiling, a point at which they will no longer advance. For Somncres, that point has been reached.”

“Really?” I said. “That seems… fast.”

“It is only fast because you have been leveling at an outrageous pace. Another person might have used this weapon for many years. After this advancement, they would use it for many more years still.”

“Fair enough.”

“But your bond with the weapon is strong, your choice of concepts created an opportunity, and I–being as talented as I am–was able to seize that opportunity. You should take a moment to reflect on how lucky you are.”

She paused and watched me.

“You mean right now?”

“Yes.”

I would have nodded, but it would have interrupted Mr. Duffens. Instead, I tried to convey my intense reflection through the expert use of my passionate gaze. After a minute passed, Khigra looked satisfied.

“Your concepts are those of Growth and Void,” she said. “The first was responsible for the item’s ability to evolve, while the second made it easy to remove the transformation effect. It is a weapon that can erase part of its own identity and create something new in its place.”

Khigra’s description made me think of how I’d been modifying my active skills. It was a similar process.

“To Empower the weapon is to give it authority over itself. This can mean many things, but for Somncres I believe it will choose to continue in its path as an evolving weapon. The trigger for that evolution will change, as will the type of benefits they may bring. So far, it has been centered on manipulating itself–alteration, copying, controlling those copies–but after it is Empowered, we cannot predict where it will take itself.”

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“I thought you said it didn’t have a mind of its own.”

“It doesn’t. Empowerment will give it one.”

“And will I have any say in how it, uh, manages itself?” I asked.

“As much as you have a say in how anyone else chooses to live their lives.”

“So I use my winning charm and powers of persuasion.”

“Or you argue it into the ground until it sees no other path forward except your own,” she said. “Much as the weapon did with me while I reworked it.”

“Right. So I use winning charm and powers of persuasion.”

Khigra cocked her head to one side but nobly decided not to oppose my questionable interpretation of reality.

“That’s a lot to take in,” I said. “And it sounds like you put a lot of thought into this. I deeply appreciate the effort.”

“Do you appreciate it more than the two emerald chips you will be paying me?”

I intercepted my surprise before it squirmed its way out onto my facial features, carefully depositing a look of contemplation in its stead. I hadn’t exactly considered whether Khigra would charge me for her work. When she’d created the hammer, she’d been paid by Drel’gethed and Xorna. The generous tribal gift from Xim’s parents did not include any upgrades, it seemed.

Still, I wasn’t going to fall into Khigra’s trap.

“I believe I appreciate it exactly that much,” I said, unwilling to fumble my way into a higher price by espousing the invaluable nature of her skills and contributions.

Could I have haggled? Probably. But I would rather Khigra get her asking price and be happy than have me become a tough customer with a handful more ruby chips in my pocket.

Besides, I had 66 of the glittering green chips, and money was made for spendin’!

I coughed up the cash, and Khigra looked pleased with the deal. Afterward, she handed Xim a note and stole an entire platter of tiny cakes on her way out. An attendant quickly took position by her side and escorted her to the Checkpoint portal, which had about fifteen minutes left before it would close.

After she’d gone, my attention turned to the rest of the room. Varrin and Sineh Dukgrien were having a whispered conversation. Sineh looked quite pleased with whatever was being said, and she placed a hand on Varrin’s forearm as she tried and failed to contain a laugh. Varrin smiled in a way that I rarely saw, and had been slowly leaning closer to Sineh the entire time Khigra and I had our chat.

Was that the scent of romance in the air?

Maybe it was just the appetizing smell of the twelve varieties of cookies on the table.

Or it was parfum d'amour, the fragrance of passion!

It could have also been the fresh strudel.

Meanwhile, Varrin’s sister, Riona, had a foot-high pile of folders filled with documents in front of her. She was reviewing the contents of the first but had been sneaking glances at me from time to time, attempting to do so without my notice. Sadly for her, I’d honed my perception skills against extraordinary challenges and heroic foes–both of which were categories Nuralie fell firmly into. While it was true I still couldn’t find the crafty loson when she didn’t want to be found, Riona’s attempts at stealth crumbled before my strapping Wisdom score.

She mostly just seemed curious, although I was looking quite dapper, and growing even more dapper every second under Mr. Duffens’s care.

Xim had tucked away Khigra’s note and was now wholly consumed with constructing a miniature house from the remaining treats and pastries we’d been provided. I patiently waited for Varrin to announce the next item on our agenda while my mind wandered to the thought of Xim in hotpants. Was she the type of gal who’d prefer to wear tailored separates–something loose and flowy up above to accentuate a daring bottom half? Or would she go with something more revealing like a spaghetti strap or even a matching bikini top?

Would she feel the need to wear anything else at all?

“Turn your head just so, m’lord,” Mr. Duffens said.

I realized he’d been gently putting pressure on my scalp, guiding me to a better position so he could tidy the back of my neck. With my distraction, he may as well have been encouraging a block of steel to bend.

“Apologies, Mr. Duffens,” I said, tilting my head forward slightly. “I am known for having an unyielding noggin’ at times.”

“So long as it’s not contagious, m’lord.”

The man continued his work while I assessed whether I should laugh at the joke, or whether it had been a joke at all. Sadly, my prodigious perception skills failed me in this regard.

Varrin sat up straight in his chair, and Sineh’s hand slid back into her lap.

“Now that you have your hammer,” he said, “we should discuss who you are allowed to hit with it.”

“I assume the answer is ‘no one’,” I said. “For the next couple of days, at least.”

Varrin leaned forward and folded his hands on the table.

“There are seven distinct situations in which it is not only appropriate, but expected, for a host of a superior station to physically chastise a misbehaving guest.”

He delivered this information without a speck of humor, then stood and squared his shoulders. He placed one hand behind him and raised his other to gesture as he spoke.

By the gods, the man was entering his ‘teaching’ pose!

He was being serious!

“Wait, is this really the best place to start?” I asked.

Riona was the one to answer. “The children I teach often learn best by having the concepts tied to something they are familiar with. For you–according to Varrin–that’s mostly hitting things. We’ll begin there and take it one step at a time.”

Varrin stood behind her, suppressing a grin.

“First,” I said, “I am a man of learning and intellect in addition to being an implacable thug. Second–” I turned to Varrin. “You spent a lot of time and effort coming up with that hammer segue, didn’t you? And you intentionally led your sister to believe I was a mindless brute so you’d get to use it.”

Riona turned and gave Varrin an “Is this true?” glare that any mother would be proud of.

“Ridiculous,” said Varrin, failing his deception check. “I did no such thing.” Riona’s glare turned into a scowl. “We have too little time to litigate over baseless accusations, so we should move on.”

Riona sighed in exasperation–as if Varrin pulled this sort of thing often–and gestured for the big guy to continue.

Thus, Varrin began explaining the seven situations where violence against guests was encouraged and the proper protocol for each in exacting detail. Riona handed me the thin folder she’d been reviewing, which I opened to find a cheat sheet with a concise breakdown of that very topic. I glanced back at the stack in front of Varrin’s sister. She gave the massive pile a pat and sent me a consoling smile.

Unlike the mysterious Mr. Duffens, I could read Riona as easily as the document in my hands. I’d never seen so much schadenfreude hidden in a single expression. There was trauma there, too; a childhood filled with endless days listening to dry exposition on arbitrary social rules. I could barely comprehend subjecting a child to such torture!

“So,” Varrin said sharply, interrupting my dreadful musings. “What is the three-part test to determine whether the first circumstance applies?”

“You’re asking me?”

“You were listening, weren’t you?” He pointed at my hands. “You even have a learning aid.”

I looked down at the document, finding two of the three steps listed. The third step was blank. Riona slowly slid a pen across the table toward me.

No!

It wasn’t a cheat sheet!

It was a fucking worksheet!

A day of suffering began, unlike any I’d ever known in Arzia.

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