Wallace

While Vivian's estate consisted of a manor and a few smaller outlying buildings surrounded by acres of carefully manicured lawn, Simon's had more in common with an armed camp or embassy compound.

I stood just within the front gate, on the wide cobblestone path that stretched the compound's length before taking a left turn around the back of the building. There was a strip of grass to either side of the path, about twice as wide as the cobbles, but that was it. On the right, the compound's stone fence bordered the grass, and on the left was the building's wall.

There was a retaining wall to my left, about twice as tall as I am, made of tight-fit reinforced masonry. At its top was the entrance and its two enormous double doors, made of steel banded hardwood.

Though I was close enough to catch snippets of conversation from the guards, I'd need to follow the gently sloping path around the building to reach it.

I sighed and started walking.

I knew what he was doing, probably most people that came here did, but he left me with few choices. I'd tried rock-climbing once or twice, just to see if I could. I was able to lift two or three times my body weight after all, but bench pressing a ton and a half over the course of a few seconds is a far cry from hauling myself up a climbing wall for several minutes.

Next time I'll bring a ladder.

Though there were proper windows on the fourth and fifth floors, I saw only arrow slits and armoured firing ports below that. Simon had gone to the added precaution of covering all those on the first floor with sliding steel plates.

Though rectangular, the corners of the manor had been flattened, giving the building a roughly hexagonal shape. The flattened corners had more arrow slits and firing ports, but the weakness was apparent upon pausing to consider the angles carefully.

While it had reduced the amount of dead ground at each corner of the building, it did not eliminate it. He'd evidently been forced to make some compromises. To eliminate the dead ground, he'd have needed to build something like a star-fort. But there was no room for the extensive triangular fortifications he would have required at each corner, and it seemed his reach was not so great that he could have the street torn up.

So rather than go for a much smaller star fort, able to fit into the available land while maintaining the required angles, he'd opted for a larger building with flattened corners.

As the corners of the lot were square, but the building's were not, there was a little more space to work with at each one. And it was at the corner nearest the front entrance that Simon kept his vehicles.

The garage was walled on only three sides, and the sloped-back roof overhung the front by several feet to keep the weather out of the open side.

They were built using the same techniques as the carriages I'd seen but had nowhere to hook up a team of horses. And though the wheels were spoked, as you'd expect from a carriage, they were two or three times wider than what you'd see being drawn behind a horse. They also had more complex suspension systems. While I'd seen a few prestige pieces rolling around, where the cabin was suspended by leather straps that helped smooth out any bumps, each of these had systems more like what you'd see on a car. The rear axle, or axles, in the case of one particularly large carriage, were on leaf springs. Though simple, they were functional, and in some vehicles, still in use today. The front wheels were individually sprung, some of which looked like salvage from modern or near-modern vehicles, while others looked like Simon's best attempt at a reproduction.

Even now, there was a pair of female gnomes working on one of the vehicles to replace a cracked spring.

I carried on before one of them noticed me, finally reaching the front doors after my long walk.

God, you are such a weeb.

There were two women on the door. Both were goblins, both were armed with pikes, and both were dressed as french maids. A third woman, elven, and dressed as a secretary, also waited. She held a clipboard in both hands and smiled as I approached.

"Hi."

"Lord Wallace, please, right this way," she swept her arm towards the doors, and the two guards leaned in to pull them open for us.

It was as if the cobblestone path carried on right into the building, and I had the feeling of walking down the street despite the roof over my head. The space inside was two stories tall, with the arrow slits and firing ports on the outside wall served by an expansive balcony on our right. Though polished stone, the cobbles' pattern continued, with green carpet to either side in place of grass. There was also a balcony up on our left, and while I noted that it would serve as an effective firing position if the need arose, they were currently finished as sitting areas.

Below the balconies on either side of the 'street' were myriad workshops, each one modelled like a storefront and staffed by women whose clothing looked more like costume than uniform.

Trying to get to wherever Simon was waiting was like walking through the world's biggest, weebiest, IKEA. An IKEA with costume by Hooters. The street continued to wind around the building, spiralling inwards, gently sloping up all the while. More than once, I saw a passage that I thought might have been a shortcut deeper within the building, but secretary Barbie was taking me the long way around.

No doubt it was some well-practised dominance play, with Simon showing off all the money and women he has, but that's not to say I was willing to pass up an opportunity to gather intel.

Of particular interest were the workshops and the projects within. I saw several people working on what could only be parts for more of Simon's vehicles, and one metalworking shop that seemed to be rolling out lengths of steel rail.

Simon had made some assertions when I'd met him, back at the dungeon fantasy theme part. He'd insisted that while he talked a big game, and liked to give a certain impression, he wasn't what people thought he was. He was very clear that while it was true he was using magic to gain the loyalty of many of the women associated with them, he never touched a single one, and it was only to serve the final goal of ending slavery in Pelignos. All that said, he was a powerful guy within the city and did not deny indulging himself with the people who were drawn to him of their own free will.

But two thoughts occurred to me as I followed the secretary further into the building, listening with half an ear to her little tour speech.

First, I had no way of knowing which of his followers he'd 'adjusted', and which he hadn't. All I had was his word, and no way to verify the truth. I had my suspicions about how he did it, but if I was right and he was playing with their hormones, detection would be nearly impossible.

Second, most of the people I saw weren't fey.

It was awfully fucking close to the line, but I could see how you could make the argument that a little applied psychology was justifiable if it brought an end to slavery. But why then were there gnomish mechanics, elven secretaries, and goblin guards?

We lapped the building five times before arriving at an inner courtyard at the centre of the fourth floor where Simon waited with a few of the women I recognized as accompanying him on our first adventure.

"I hear you're a lord now," he called out as I approached.

"That's what people keep telling me."

"Victoria here," he began, nodding at tall and busty, "tells me you've got a present for me."

I drew the book out of my bag, "Well, I wasn't planning on leaving empty-handed."

"So you're here to sell me something then?"

"I prefer to think of it as a gift exchange."

"What the hell even is this? I have books, you know."

"It's a magic book."

"Of course it is."

"You found that theme park with a radio you made, if I remember right?"

"So?"

I held out the book, "Radio's lame. This uses magic."

He took it and opened the cover, flipping through the pages, "Only one? Who can I talk to with this, just yourself?"

"Please, the second I step out the door you'll be subjecting it to every sort of test you can imagine trying to figure out how it works. Yeah, I'm only giving you one, and yeah, you can only talk to me. But that's hardly the reason this book is valuable."

"How many of these have you made?"

"One for each city, and one for every member of my team."

"But I couldn't, say, talk to Caniforma with this? Why not?"

"Do you trust me not to run a man-in-the-middle attack against your comms? And the Caniformans might not know the computer science behind it, but they'd guess something like it is possible."

"And you trust me not to pull this thing apart and listen in on everything your team is saying?"

"If you can crack four thousand ninety-six bit RSA encryption, then I'd suggest focusing your efforts on finding a way back to Earth so you can become a trillionaire, instead of listening in on me."

"Well go ahead then," he prompted, gesturing with the book, "let's see it work."

I shrugged and took out my own book and then paused as I flipped past Cassius's page.

"What?" Simon frowned.

I furrowed my brows, rereading the message, "Cassius says there's a dinosaur outside the base."

"Seriously? What kind?"

"Guess I'll ask him," I replied, scribbling a message to Cassius, "Anyways," I continued, flipping to Simon's page, "Here, you can draw pictures, write text, whatever you like."

"How are you doing the colours?"

"I'm sure you can figure it out on your own," I paused, flipping back to Cassius's page, "That's not what dinosaurs look like," I muttered, writing another message.

"What's not like dinosaurs look like?" Simon asked.

"All scaly,"

Simon spread his hands, "Yeah, they've got feathers and stuff."

I gestured at the book, "He just said he doesn't know what kinda dinosaur it is. I don't know man. It's a big fuckin' lizard with scales and shit," I recited.

"Cassius is human?" Simon guessed.

"Yeah."

"You got any other humans hidden away?"

"Maybe."

"You do, don't you?"

"Few dozen, maybe."

"How many is a few?"

"More than two?"

"How much more than two?"

"How about you pay me for the book before trying to weasel any more info out of me?"

"And what exactly is it you want?"

"Creation mana."

"That's kind of a big deal."

"Revolutionizing communication in a society where information moves at the speed of a fast horse is kind of a big deal. Figuring out a source of creation mana would be helpful."

"And I get to keep the book?"

"Yup."

"And you accept that I'll pull this thing apart to figure out how it ticks?"

"Yup."

"Almonds."

"What?"

"Almonds. There's your source."

"If I walk around outside the city long enough, am I going to come across any almond plantations?"

"Yes, you will. You'll find some of my girls selling them down at the market. More expensive than the competition, but fair trade," Simon grinned.

"You gonna sell me any almond bushes?"

"Almond trees, and no. If you want some, you can try planting them yourself."

"Hmm, guess I'll figure something out, then," I mused, "Are you gonna make me walk around your base ten more times or is there an exit I can take?"

"Sure, but what about the dinosaur?"

"Dinosaur? Oh, right," I found Cassius's page, and scanned the new messages, "I told him to shoot at it if it was a problem. He did. It ran away."

"That's it? Aren't you curious to hear more?"

"I dunno, it's pretty cool, but it's hardly the strangest thing I've seen. You just told me that the secret to violating thermodynamics is an ingredient in trail mix. I'm gonna digest that one before I worry about trying to go all Turok on a dinosaur."

Simon threw up his hands, "Did you never watch Jurassic Park as a kid?"

"Nope."

"Well, that's a shame. It's not like either of us will be catching up on old movies any time soon."

There were a handful of bored guards- all of them sprites -hanging around the guest house when I returned, so it was unsurprising when I found Vivian still visiting with Valentine.

Val looked up as I entered, and frowned, "What have you got there?"

"An opportunity for a crude joke."

I took the ten-pound bags of almonds I'd shouldered and set them against the wall by the door.

"Had a chat with Simon and a look around his compound. He told me about the almonds. They're a source of Creation mana."

Val raised her eyebrows, "Oh my, that is good to know."

"I was wondering why he went to all the trouble," Vivian added, "I should have realized, I'd thought it was simple preference."

I joined Val on the padded bench, "Has he cut down any of his almond trees?" I asked.

"Gods no, he treats those trees better than most fey treat their slaves. It was something of a spectacle when he returned with the first trees, watching him struggle to keep them alive was the subject of gossip in the city for some time."

I took Val's torch out of my pocket, "Then he probably doesn't know that almond wood is also a source of Creation mana."

"Even if he did, and maybe he does, I still doubt he'd be eager to cut down any of his trees," Val pointed out.

"Maybe," I allowed, "But leaves fall, and I bet branches need pruning. We might also get lucky and find a large group of trees. I've honestly got no idea how to go about transplanting a tree, but with the truck, I bet we could haul a hell of a lot of lumber back to the base."

"I suppose this is the sort of thing you'd prefer I'd keep to myself?" Vivian asked.

"The tree thing, yeah, but don't worry about the almonds themselves. Simon must have guessed that the info would find its way to you."

"You have tested this?" Val inquired, "Simon did not cheat us?"

"I tested it," I assured her, "It works. I'll need to do some magic science, but my guess is that mana, not mass, is conserved. So if you want to make something, you'd need the mana that substance would contain. Just a guess, but when I tried to make a diamond I needed Strengthen and Body to do it, not Earth, which is what I would have expected if it were based on matter conversion."

"You create a diamond?" Vivian demanded.

"About the size of a grain of sand, yeah. Kinda lost it though," I admitted, "I was walking down the street when I did this, not like I was doing it in a cleanroom."

Val nodded thoughtfully, "It's something."

"Perhaps," Vivian began hesitantly, "We could discuss this further over dinner?"

Val opened her mouth to say something but stopped when I put a hand on her shoulder.

"I'll make something," I offered.

I felt Val's shoulders relax, "Okay."

"You will make us dinner?" Vivian asked, her expression as sceptical as it was incredulous.

"Well, Val certainly wasn't cooking for us."

"Hey! I made stew the first time we were on our way to the hotel," Val huffed.

"You mean the time you almost blew us up?"

"That's beside the point," Val insisted haughtily, "The stew was perfectly fine."