“My lungs feel as if I am running a road roller through them,” John wheezed, trying his darndest to keep his lungs from being rejected by the rest of his body.
“Stop smoking then, weakling,” Magnus mocked him. His stern tone made it sound harsher than it was likely ant to be. “And don’t draw it into your lungs. That isn’t a cigarette, that’s an 1842 Geralson.”
Over the past two hours of engaged discussion and whisky-sipping, John had ended up ordering a cigar himself. It was a truly decadent move, a waste of more wealth than most people earned in a month on a thing he just wanted to test out while he was tipsy from equally pricy alcohol.
Interestingly, he discovered that the whisky tasted better after his mouth had tasted the cigar smoke. It was too bad that ca alongside that absolutely horrible piece of burning, rolled plant matter.
“If you don’t finish that cigar, I will sabotage your next IBMA,” Magnus threatened. “You are smoking history.”
“History sucks then,” John retorted, partly just to rile his friend up. While he succeeded, the Fateweaver scoffed, he did not get any entertaining rage. “You and your self-control.”
“Yeah, Magnus, live a little!” Maximillian chid in, pouring whisky into the air. Rather than dropping to the ground, the glass worth of amber fluid was pulled into a swirl that led up to the centre of Hawpler. The sapient black hole that was the gravity mage’s contracted elental had decided that he wanted to try so whisky.
There was a tingling at the back of John’s mind that it, perhaps, wasn’t wise to subject a magical gravitation well to alcohol. He was too busy teasing Magnus to care, though.
“Rather than chide , perhaps you two should reign in your excesses,” Magnus returned and downed his seventh glass of whisky. He quickly followed it up with a glass of water and a huff of his cigar.
“As you say, as you say,” John rolled his eyes. There was a mont of silence as all three worked on their respective cigars. The Gar coughed, Maximillian seed rather unimpressed and Magnus leaned back with absolute comfort. “I’ve been aning to ask: any interesting research recently?”
The Fateweaver tapped his cigar against the ash tray and glanced over to Maximillian conspicuously.
“You might as well say yes, buddy,” the gravity mage laughed. “Hey, if it’s classified, you can talk about it tomorrow.”
“It’s de-classified now,” John said. “Tell .”
“…You sure?” Magnus asked. “It’s a big deal.”
“Am I sure that I, John Newman, President of Fusion and guildmaster of Collide, have the authority to de-classify whatever I want? Pretty sure, yes,” John stated. “If it was such a massive thing, you would flat-out refuse to talk about it.”
Magnus hesitated. “Truth be told, I want to brag about it.”
“Go ahead and brag then,” John invited and took a sip of his whisky. Anticipatingly, Max did the sa.
They were halfway through their respective sips when Magnus, quietly, said, “I found a way to make Mobile Barriers without Fateweavers present.”
“”PFFFSSSSSHHH!”” the two younger n on the table spluttered their high-cost whisky into the air, followed by them coughing so intensely they almost fell from their chairs. Glasses and ashtrays rattled on the table, while they held on for support. “”W-what?!”” they stamred out in unison.
Illusion Barriers were a steadily developing technology. They had started with Gaia, giving everyone in the world the ability to call on her power to create a space away from mundane eyes, where Abyssals could take their supernatural conflicts. Even if the power to create small parallel dinsions was strictly borrowed, so people were more talented at exerting and maintaining control over them. Those barrier specialists would eventually beco so sophisticated in their manipulation that they invented the Protected Space, Illusion Barriers that stuck around even if no one was inside them and that didn’t ld with others in the sa area. Later on, they developed Fateweaving, a technique to manipulate the makings of a barrier to translocate people inside them a mont before they sustained lethal wounds. The last major invention was the Mobile Barrier engine, which allowed a Fateweaver to maintain an Illusion Barrier on the move.
Magnus took a calm huff of his cigar. It was the last one that one had to give and he pressed it down into the ashtray to give the two of them ti to calm down. “I said it was a big deal,” he kept his voice down.
“Scratch big deal, that would revolutionize Abyssal traffic,” John answered, ecstatic but keeping his tone similarly quiet. He looked to Maximillian, who also stared back to the Gar. His expression spelled out that the gravity king would have been fine if they dropped the topic there. Trusting his friend was one thing, revealing details another. The worst damage, short of handing over the research docunts, was already done though. “How have I not heard of this yet?”
“It’s not in a worthwhile state,” Magnus revealed and tapped on the table. “The Mobile Barrier is no larger than this and not stable for more than 15 tres. I haven’t told my father yet. For the mont, it’s only my research.”
“How did you do that though?” Maximillian wanted to know, then waved off. “Don’t answer if you shouldn’t.”
“Tell though,” John demanded and leaned forwards, so Magnus could whisper in his ear.
The Fateweaver obliged, and a mont later, he revealed. “Rember the 5 grams of the Collits that you gave ?” John nodded. It had been a drunken bet during their last poker ga and the Gar had kept his promise. “I managed to do it with them and a World Gem.”
“I see,” John said and leaned back. “Not exactly fit for widespread public use then.”
“Not as it stands,” Magnus nodded.
“That makes it less exciting,” the Gar cald down considerably and returned to what remained of his whisky. Because Fusion was investing so heavily in the next generation of Fateweavers anyway, limited access to Mobile Barrier generators that didn’t require their input was a niche without real benefit. If the state, the only entity which had a considerable number of Mobile Barrier engines at the mont, needed a Fateweaver to accompany a mission, they could get one.
It was the average person that could benefit heavily from this. Everyone having access to their own Mobile Barrier vehicle was an imnse increase in freedom of movent. Transport prices for goods would also drop if all it took to keep a ship in a permanent Mobile Barrier was a machine. All of that was only valid if the price to create a Mobile Barrier engine was lower than it was to raise a capable enough Fateweaver.
Given the necessity of World Gems and Collits, that was absolutely not the case. It was too costly to deploy in widespread use and seed to have no additional benefits. If this allowed Mobile Barriers to benefit from ti dilation, then that would have been an argunt to bother to make so. As it stood, there was nothing there.
‘New technologies are often initially inferior to their predecessors though,’ the Gar thought. ‘The bow was used quite a bit before the musket had beco reliable enough for widespread use.’ “Whether this develops into sothing splendid or not, that discovery will make it into the history books of Fateweaving,” he said. “Incredible find, Magnus.”
“Incredible indeed,” Maximillian backed up.
The usually stern man grinned widely upon hearing that. He hid it well, usually, but Magnus was all too aware that he was the adequately talented son of an incredible man. Whether he would ever reach the sa heights as Magoi remained uncertain, but this, at least, must have given him the feeling that he was a worthy successor. “I do what I can,” he tried to be humble.
“Tell if sothing more cos of it,” John said. “I officially re-classify it. Here, a gift from your superior.” Graciously, John offered his barely touched cigar.
Magnus took it without complaints. “I’ll save this historic cigar from your unappreciative hands.”
“You save from throat cancer while you’re at it,” the Gar teased.
“Cancer,” Maximillian laughed. “Who cares about cancer in the Abyss? Brain aneurysms you could have a problem with, but if it’s any long-term health problem, the Apothecaries probably have a fix.”
“Depends on the source, I would guess,” John chid in there, poking Maximillian’s bad foot with his own.
“True enough,” the gravity mage conceded and reached for the bell at the end of the table.
“How are you dealing with your limp?” Magnus asked, perhaps worried John had touched a proverbial nerve.
“I would be lying if I said I’m content with having it,” Maximillian openly disclosed with a shrug. “It is what it is though. I’m still holding out for a miracle cure, but if I have to go the rest of my life with a cane, I’ll manage. It’s a pretty minor inconvenience, considering I can fly.”
“I must point out,” Hawpler interjected, his voice as if soone had forced the backdrop of a drum and bass song into vocal form, “that you cannot fly. You can stand on objects which you can make fall sideways.”
“It’s close enough,” Maximillian said and rung the bell. “I need a new whisky, what about you gents?”
“Sa,” John confird. Magnus just nodded. While they waited for the bartender, the Gar continued, “A miracle cure would be really nice. Having my eyesight back would be really nice.”
“Your magical sight is better than ours anyway,” Maximillian pointed out.
“I could use both at the sa ti,” John retorted. “I’d just like to wake up in the morning and look at my girls with my own eyes… dunno, there is no effective difference, but it bothers sotis. Tangentially related, I talked to Lee about how I don’t like faking how my eyes look.”
“Why do it then?” Maximillian asked.
“Because I like the milky look even less,” John explained. “Also, people look at funny when I have them out. It makes interactions awkward.”
“That is fair enough, I guess,” Maximillian said. “Anyway, away from our cripple status and hello to the beautiful maiden here to bring us our drinks.”
Hera reacted to that by blushing before she could even stop by the table. “Stop it,” she responded, her expression making it clear that what she said was actually the last thing she wanted to happen.
“I’m afraid you would have to make ,” Maximillian humd and smiled. “Sadly, it would take a longer talk to convince of that than your work would permit us to have. Perhaps we should take a mont later this week?”
“I’ll think about it.” Hera put on a highly professional deanour and looked at them. “Do you have an order?”
They all just requested one more of what they had already had, continued their conversations for a little while, and waited for the bartender to return. Soon enough, she was back. “The service here is magnificent,” the gravity mage complinted. All he got in return was a view of Hera’s shoulder while she bowed down next to him to place the glasses on the table.
Once she was gone, John said, “Soone has been given the cold shoulder.”
“If you want to call total success the cold shoulder,” Maximillian humd and waved with a slip of paper Hera must have quietly given him. He put it into his breast pocket.
“Another promiscuous conquest for you then,” John conceded, disappointed he couldn’t poke more fun at him.
“Speaking of promiscuity,” Magnus stared at John, “you ntioned you spoke to my sister?”
“Purely platonically!” The Gar realized that he reacted suspiciously quick too late and one of Magnus’ eyebrows shot up in response. “Urgh,” John reached for his whisky and took a sip. “Whatever. Why try to hide it,” he mumbled to himself. “Magnus, your sister wants to sleep with .”
“…You begging for a slap, John?” the Fateweaver growled. That he was the older brother of two sisters was written all over his face. Despite their power difference, Magnus might actually try to land that hit, if John said sothing else so poorly formulated.
“I’ve done nothing to deserve it,” he returned.
“Yet,” Maximillian added and giggled when both of the other two n on the table gave him a silencing stare. “Alright, alright, solve it between you two. I don’t have a dog in this fight,” he said, holding his freshly filled glass like a bag of popcorn.
“We had a gaming session on Tuesday. I haven’t laid a hand on her,” the Gar clarified what had happened. “I’m trying my best to respect you and your parents’ wishes, but she is not making it easy for . She’s way too adorable and flirtatious.”
“You barely know her.” Magnus grasped at the first argunt that ca to mind.
“Are you telling that your sister is a secretly horrible person?” John instinctively tried to put his friend on the defensive in this argunt. Only after he said it, did he realize that the alcohol was making his tongue a bit too loose.
Luckily, Magnus wasn’t soone who imdiately reacted passionately. Slowly sipping from his water, maintaining eye contact the entire ti, he only spoke when the glass hit the tabletop again. “Don’t play these rhetorical gas with , John.”
“Fair,” the Gar conceded with an apologetic nod. “It’s just… look, you definitely have a point that I barely know her. My initial interest cos from one quick eting, but we did talk over the course of seven hours on Tuesday and that did not help things on my side.” The Gar sighed. “More talks won’t make that better. You should know, things with you and Nina started the sa way.”
Magnus groaned and ran a hand over his combed hair. “I want to say that’s different, because I only have Nina and you already have a harem so you can’t possibly love another woman properly. I do know you better though.”
John was thankful for that degree of trust. “I won’t pretend I’m not interested in her, I clearly am. If you want us to stay platonic, you have to tell her that though.” Shaking his head, the Gar looked down at his hands. “I’m a weak man when it cos to attractive won, but I have a modicum of self-control. As long as she doesn’t flirt with every ti we et, I can keep my hands to myself. With the way things currently are, rejecting her continuously will be stressful for and hurtful to her.”
“Gaia, I was afraid this could happen,” Magnus grumbled and massaged the bridge of his nose. “I just didn’t think she would take an imdiate interest to you.”
“Seems like she had an interest in before she even ca over,” John told him what he understood the situation as.
“What do your girls even think of this?” the Fateweaver asked in a desperate tone. It sounded as if he was trying to unearth any angle with which he could talk John out of this.
“Apparently Lee has been hanging out with all of them over the last week.” John raised his hands defensively. “Had nothing to do with . She just took Jane’s offer to show her around and things cascaded from there.”
“…It is how it is then…” Magnus let out a really long sigh and leaned back in his chair. “I won’t lie, I don’t think my sister is making the smart decision, becoming part of a harem. I don’t have any right to stop you though.”
“Well, it’s never been about the right,” John presented his view on the situation. “I have the right to eat a turd for breakfast every morning. You not associating with because I stink like shit is the problem. I – Fusion cannot afford losing you and your father.”
“So, you’re just keeping it in your pants because of politics?” Magnus asked.
“Politics, economics and respect for you two,” the Gar laid down. “I wouldn’t just imdiately budge if you removed the first two reasons, Magnus. You are my friend, I’m not just going to…” he lacked for a delicate word, “…engage with your sister without trying to smooth things out first. I will be completely honest though: the attraction is mutual. I’m only a man. At so point, I will reciprocate her advances. Expecting anything else is moral tyranny.”
Magnus growled. Not at John, just a deep-seated sound of general frustration while he rubbed his forehead. “Fine, I guess,” he waved off, having nothing to retain his position with. “I don’t like it, but I will get over it as long as she is happy.” He took his glass and emptied it in one gulp. “You better do this properly.”
“I always do,” John attempted a joke.
“Eh,” Maximillian poked back into the conversation. “Debatable.”
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