“Gentle! Gentle! Gen-AHHHHHHH!.” Quasi screams.

“Stop moving!” Jessica orders as she funnels a spell directly into the shattered bones of Quasi’s mangled foot.

“Fuck me, this hurts. I’m usually good with pain, but this shit is difficult to ignore. Aren't you done yet?”

“Almost,” she answers. Her hands hover over his foot as millions of strands of mana slowly move his bones back into place.

“You’re usually faster than this.”

“That's because I usually heal people that are lower level and don't have bones as hard as steel.” She explains while she struggles to keep from grinning each time Quasi howls in pain.

With several more pulses of mana, the slivers of foot bone return to the shape of a metatarsal. One more pulse and they fuse back into a single unit and she finally closes the wound.

“Done,” she says happily. Then Jess frowns at Quasi, “So how did you shatter your leg kicking the door?”

Quasi swings his leg, then slowly weights it and finally gives a few experimental hops. Finding that everything is working as intended, he shimmies off the table and takes a proper seat on the chair.

“Well, it's a bit complicated, but the short of it is that the door is enchanted to absorb kinetic energy similar to my cane. I tried to overpower the enchantment, and I succeeded with my third kick, but when it broke, the thing malfunctioned and released all its stored energy into my foot.”

Jessica snorts, “So you kicked yourself.”

Quasi blushes, “Well, kinda.”

“It looks like you’ve healed up,” observes Testudo. He arrives at the table in the company of a woman sporting a dick-shaped bun on her head.

Quasi nods, “I am, though my pride has yet to heal.”

“You take pride in trying to kick my door down?” the dick-bunned woman asks.

Quasi raises an eyebrow, “Who’s the phallic cowlick?”

She folds her arms across her voluptuous chest. “I am Madam Chanel, the current proprietor of the Bearded Goodtime.” she lifts up her chest, “and as the proprietor, it is my responsibility to make sure this establishment runs perfectly, which it can’t if some idiot busts my enchantments balls.”

Quasi points, “Hey, I was just testing your entrance. It's not my fault that the enchantments weren't able to hold under intense physical scrutiny.”

Chanel raises an eyebrow. She points at Testudo, “Your friend here said you didn't want to touch the ‘dick-shaped door knob’.”

A look of guilt washes over Testudo as Quasi gives him an accusing glare, which is lost on the madam.

“He also explained that you are skilled at enchanting and would be more than willing to fix the damage.”

“Dealing with the law in this city is a tediously long bureaucratic process. I’ve convinced Madam Chanel to forgive all damages so long as the door is fully repaired.” Testudo explains.

“And after a month's stay in one of our premium rooms.” Chanel adds.

“Which I’ve already paid for,” Testudo quickly says.

Quasi sighs, “Fine, fine. That works for me. I’ll go fix it up.”

Quasi stands up and walks to the door, one foot bare. After he leaves, Madam Chanel walks around Jessica and leans into her from behind. She grins like a shark smelling blood.

“So, he’s the man by whom you want to get fucked. I honestly have to approve. He’s got nice, firm muscles, a confident persona, and that bulge between his legs is definitely more than just a codpiece.”

Jessica blushes and covers her cheeks.

Madam Chanel nods as she watches Quasi with a hungry look, a look actually shared by all of the female staff and budding [Bards]. “I suggest you do not dither too long with your feelings. A man’s attention is a fickle thing.”

With her final words, Madam Chanel walks away from the table, leaving Jessica blushing and Testudo confused.

_______________________________________________________________

What makes an enchantment strong depends on two major factors. The first and most common factor is what the object is made of. For example, Adamantine, superlatively tough and hard as it is, is worse than rocks for enchanting. The metal has a naturally disruptive property that makes it impossible for mana to travel through the metal. If not for the metal's extraordinary resilience, nobody would ever even try. At the other end of the spectrum is mithril, which is the complete opposite of adamantium. It is a light, brittle metal that practically invites mana. Unfortunately mithril’s poor toughness makes it a poor choice for most tools and structures. Thus, the enchanter and the metallurgist understand intuitively: purity is bullshit; its only real point is to control what goes in and what comes out. But, mixing an alloy is only half the story. How hard a tool gets is controlled by how a tool gets hard.

“Fuck, this shit is actually complicated,” I say aloud. My eyes glow as I stare at the door and the damaged mana channels. The damage is focused at precisely the exact location where my foot struck. Leaning down, I place my hand on the metal and find it’s warm. “Like really, why use seven different metals for a fucking door? This shit can be done with pure mithril, or better yet, pure adamantium. With adamantium this door wouldn't need a goddamn enchantment.”

The second factor that governs an enchantment is the [Enchanter’s] level. High level [Enchanters] can create more complicated enchantments, stack them deeper, and load them with more mana.

I push mana into the door and watch it move through the damaged network. “Damn, this is some old school enchanting… It's also inefficiently designed. Why is the enchantment network moving in tha- its a dick!”

Leaning away, my eyes trace the energy as it travels through the door in what can only be described as a cock rampant, complete with balls and epididymis. Well, one ball, since the right one is where the enchantment got damaged.

“This place is stupid.”

“Quasi Eludo,” a voice comes from behind me.

Turning my head, I find Molucca slightly winded. It looks as though the dwarf had been running recently.

“Oh, hey, Molucca, have you finished reporting to your [King]?”

“I have,” he answers slowly, catching his breath, “I’ve been looking for you.”

I shrug, “Yea, I figured you would. Let me guess, I’m invited to some party or event at which they will suck my dick before offering to buy the ShadeHaven.”

Molucca slaps his knee and goes into a violent fit of laughter. “Ay, the Greybeards are planning that. They want to shower you with alcohol tomorrow night.”

“Huh… sounds fun. Tomorrow morning you can take me to a Hermes statue and then we’ll head to the party. Sounds good?”

Molucca pats his beard, “That can be done. We’ll have to go early to get permission from the Bards' Guild, though I doubt it will be a problem since you’re a [Bard].”

“Right, the guild,” I frown at the dwarf, “what's with all the penises? It’s like a couple artists started measuring dicks and somehow their little Fruedian meme swelled into this horrible Lovecraftian zeitgeist and they called it art.”

Molucca snorts, “Ha, I never expected you’d know of our most famous artists! But it’s a long history,” he glances up at the Bearded Goodtime, “If you’re staying here, then you should ask Madam Chanel about it and she’ll keep you up all night. In the meantime, I’m gonna head back home to my wife and then pick you up in the morning.”

I wave at him as he leaves under the dick-lit night. Yes, dick-lit. A flickering arc between the tips of each pair of phallic electrodes pushes back the unnatural gloaming. With him gone and the street empty once again, quiet except for the hissing lamps, I return my attention to the door.

The real trick to repairing a broken enchantment is to know the original, unbroken enchantment.

Thankfully, the symmetrical dick-enchanted solution is staring at me in the face. The left ball is damaged and the right is undamaged. So far, the enchantment is bilaterally symmetrical, so…

I hover my hand over the damage and feed in hundreds of strands of mana. With the strands, I mirror the enchantment of the undamaged ball to the left. Not even a second after I complete it, the enchantment turns on in all its dick-like glory. With the job done, I turn the handle and enter through the front.

Walking inside, I make my way to Jessica’s table.

“It’s done.”

Madam Chanel looks at me as I take a seat between Testudo and Jessica.

“That is rather fast. I hope you did a good job.”

I shrug, “I fixed the enchantment. It should function exactly the same way before it was damaged.”

The Madam gives me a long stare before nodding. “Fine. I forgive you. Just don’t kick in my door again.”

“I was testing the durability of your door.” I correct the uninformed woman, “as a [Door Gentleman], I have a responsibility to make sure that the entrances to establishments are of adequate quality.”

“You kick doors… to test them?”

“He does. I think he has a fetish around it.” Jessica interrupts.

Testudo nods, “Indeed. When he’d first entered my castle, he’d tested my adamantine enforced gates. My own enchantments shattered, but the gates only bent slightly. I was given an eight out of ten,” he explains proudly.

“It's not a fetish. It’s a class thing. How am I to level properly if not by testing the most extravagant of entrances?” I point at the door, “I got two entire levels from kicking that door.”

Madam Chanel nods, “If it is part of your class, then I fully understand. When the [Bard Artificer] Phallus Johnson first created the Bards’ Guild, he made sure it focused on the most efficient and effective way of leveling, even to the point of getting ostracized by most of the city.”

I turn to the other two, “See, she understands… Wait, his name is Phallus Johnson? Is he the one responsible for the dick fetishes everywhere?”

Madam Chanel pouts disapprovingly. “Mr. Johnson had a vision about what is most important to the betterment of the [Bard] class.”

“The betterment of dicks.”

She shakes her head. “He understood how best to raise and nurture the class levels higher than any Bards’ Guild before had ever been capable of.”

“Nurtured dicks.”

She gives me a pointed glare but continues. “Thousands of Bardic organizations have come since his guild, but all have gone to ruin. Their [Bards] were not leveling and no kingdom would let them push the edge of their art.”

“Dick edges.”

She sighs, annoyed. She gives me a glare before turning around, raising her hands and voice as though the entire room is an audience, “Tell me, what is the point of the [Bard] class? What is the most important aspect of the art? What is the truth of the [Troubadour]?”

Before I can answer, she quickly turns around and looks me in the eyes.

“It is sex. [Bards] live and breathe for sex. They learn music to attract mates. They learn to speak fluently to attract mates. They sing to attract mates. They are all charismatic so that they can attract and ultimately bed another. [Bards] are masters of attraction for the sake of attraction itself.”

She grins hungrily, “And dicks are the most important tool in their repertoire. It is the one tool that allows the class to survive and prosper, and Phallus Johnson built his guild around that singular tool.”

I nod. “So.... Dick fetish.”

She sighs.