POV: Runa
She wanted to see all the damage she had done to herself. That wouldn’t happen though. While she had taken a little nap, Baggage had risen to the challenge and done a reasonable job of healing for a woman her age. It was hard to gauge progress due to generational knowledge. The last hero had brought huge advances that affected everything, including healing magic.
The last hero had been a military student, an 18-year-old kid. He’d brought books on biology, chemistry, math, and physics. Also, of lesser importance: psychology, world history, and “bugle notes” which were just some papers about the importance of communication. Basic stuff for Earth. Tenka didn’t know much about any of it. He succeeded in pushing back the Demon-King’s armies and was sent back home with Tenka’s enormous gratitude.
The books impacted Tenkan culture more than anyone expected.
After a few years, a wave of students at the Academy of Magic graduated with ‘prodigy’ status. The students weren’t talented. The Earth books had given them a superior understanding of natural law, so their spells did things like ‘use reactive elements to create a highly exothermic reaction’ instead of ‘make that stuff go boom’.
It’s amazing what a didference knowing what the hell you’re doing can make.
It took ten years for the Academy to redefine ‘prodigy’. Then it took five more to realize they’d smashed job prospects because nobody was graduating as a prodigy under the new definition. Then they conveniently rule changed it back to the way it was, just as the headmaster’s daughter was set to graduate. Coincidence? No.
And people had the nerve to ask Runa why she thought the Academy was doing more harm than good.
One evening, Kai Drake complained about the ‘everyone gets a trophy’ culture on Earth. As a thought experiment: apply that same mentality to wizards and try to figure out which of the automatic trophy winners are the guys able to keep the one (1) remaining human city safe.
A serious problem that no one was taking seriously. Infrastructure deteriorated. Instead of doing anything about it, authorities chased after Runa. Why? Just because one of her little side projecta was a shortcut to creating humans that didn’t require sitting around for nine months and waiting another twelve to fifteen years for the little snot to become independent. And- AND! By doing things Runa’s way, you could make the new humans super damn hot. Ushering in a glorious new age of attractive and competent human beings.
Yes, yes, yes. Starting a human life as a vat-born biologic teenager gave her New Humans a charming naivety, allowing them to possibly be exploited by others, such as their creator. All the grumpy people said that was bad. What a certain beautiful wizard lady opined is that attractive, intelligent, pliable people existed anyway and no one seemed to care what the hell happened to them.
Establishing a baseline was tricky. Those naturally beautiful, intelligent, socially awkward people were rare. At least in terms of population percentages. Unless you looked in the Eromancy school of magic, specifically the Facilitator training program where there were scads of them. Then that same misunderstood lady witch could guide the poor little dears into her charming laboratory so they could become templates for new vat-born created humans. Easy!
Runa was almost assigned to the hero's team forty-five years ago. She failed out deliberately by showing up to the evaluation drunk. The hero’s textbooks were left behind in the castle and she had been the first one to completely read them. It was the single best career decision of her life.
All she had to do was blow up the academic records people were fighting over anyway on account of the whole ‘prodigy’ fiasco. It was much easier to take out the whole academy than figure out where the records department was. And then she had X number of hot, smart, easily manipulated people in the kingdom that had become the last bastion of humanity.
The big questions of the moment were 1) was Baggage one of Runa’s vat-created humans, a human she used as a template for the vat-born, or just a random sexy dork who was in over her head? Because Runa hadn't kept a good track of her creations or test subjects. 2) Why wasn’t Baggage B-O-I-N-K-I-N-G the hero? This wasn't one of those ‘moral’ issues, was it? Runa hated those things.
For example, right now she had to turn her back while Baggage changed clothes. Runa had convinced her to try on a Chthonic Elf courtship dress. Runa loved Chthonic Elf clothing. She had no idea what demonic taint had done to the elven people, but their fashion sense had certainly improved.
“I’m ready, Runa, but please don’t ask me to wear this anywhere.”
Runa turned around. The dress was one of her own and she was about half a shaku taller, so the fit wouldn’t be correct. However, Baggage looked perfect, from a Chthonic Elf’s perspective. The dress had a hem unacceptably high by human standards, even though Chthonic Elf ladies wore it higher, and sleeves that were too long. It combined innocence with… call it ‘not innocence’. Drake would hate it, until he saw Baggage in chains, which he soon would.
Unless in the past forty-five years American Earth women decided to dress lewdly in public, but what were the odds of that?
“Baggage-chan, you look fit to be serenaded by a quartet of Chthonic Elf men!”
“I’m not sure what that means Runa-san,” said Baggage as she tried to stretch the hem below her knees.
It meant that all four of them were prepared to be captured, Runa believed. Sayaka due to paranoia, Kai due to reflexive anger response, Baggage due to her appearance, and Runa due to her knowing what the hell was going to happen in the next couple of days.
Yes. The plan had a lot of moving pieces-
Suddenly the air sled shook. Well then, maybe the elves would attack right now! Good. She wouldn’t have to think of excuses to keep Baggage in the dress.
Kai’s gun fired several times and the coach shook again as something hit it. That was… concerning.
Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
Due to her injuries, Runa’s qi and mana reserves were a pair of buckets with huge holes in them. She wouldn’t be saving the day anytime soon. She’d have to hope the crisis didn't spiral out of control. A fist as wide as a soup bowl smashed through the window.
It seemed the Cthonic Elves had gotten crankier over the years. The fist ripped the door off. Things were spiraling out of control.
There were days, Runa thought, when she was too smart for her own good.
- - -
POV: Drake
He was back in prison and he hated prison. He really hated prison.
On Earth his 24 hours in holding were extended to 72 because of a combination of the weekend and the Christmas season.
Everything was disorienting. Four conflicting sets of instructions on how to use the phone. The drone of a small screen stuck on the the sports channel because none of the prisoners wanted to look unmasculine by suggesting anything else. Steady bright fluorescent lights, he had no idea what time it was.
The other guys set his teeth on edge. Honestly, the drug addicts weren't so bad once he found out what was going on with them. Drake didn’t think anyone else had an excuse.
When he was moved to General Population, he was thrown into the mental Ward at first. He had been acting weird (true and fair) because nobody would tell him where his kids were. He felt that was an important circumstance, but no one else agreed.
Drake had not been released on parole. His poor Japanese and international travel got him labeled as a flight risk. He’d asked, “I went to Japan a few times and that means I’m a risk for running to Georgia or Arizona?”
“We just don’t want to take chances, Mr. Drake.”
That had been the first four days. The only people to ask him if his kids were OK were other prisoners with facial tattoos of skulls. It took some getting used to.
It was Christmastime and his choices were to go with a public defender for free or a young private criminal defense attorney who had to take any case she could get. He had been told that if he had money, a ‘complex’ case was better handled by a private attorney.
She did well. There was no problem until they met together for the first time at his arraignment. His criminal attorney was hot. Smoking hot.
“Nobody is going to believe we aren't sleeping together,” Drake said.
“I understand. I’ll support you if you want to get another lawyer. No hard feelings at all. In case it affects your decision, your wife is claiming you abused her.”
“She’s lying,” Drake said immediately.
“Yeah. She already screwed up and said you hit her two weeks ago. You were in Japan, correct?”
Drake had never been so happy to have been to Japan. The alibi made up for getting labeled a flight risk.
The stress piled on. Ethan wouldn’t talk to him. Ethan had seen Drake smash a laptop into his wife’s lover’s leg while screaming “I’ll kill you!”
When Ethan refused to talk to him, it was seen as a sign that he abused Ethan. The already ‘complex’ became more complex.
By then Drake had been in jail one week. He ate his first bite of prison food on that day. Drake’s appetite plummeted and his 20-pound ‘corporate gut’ would vanish forever in the coming months. He wasn’t fasting, he just didn’t ever feel like eating.
Ironically, Ethan saved him. The state wanted to add child abuse and spousal abuse. His lawyer told him Ethan had been perfectly steady. They made him see a child psychologist and he told her calmly that the abuse claim was ‘absurd’. Drake had often slept in the guest bedroom when his wife wanted space. He was good with the kids. Ethan had said as much.
Weeks passed. He was fired from his job. There had been an anonymous complaint from someone that they were afraid for their safety. The firm said they were only doing it out of an “abundance of caution”.
“Can I sue them?”, he asked his lawyer.
“Sue whoever you want. I got to say though, you’re about to enter a divorce and you’re in prison. How much money do you have?” his lawyer said.
That night he got into his first prison fight. He won. It made the legal challenges greater.
In the end, he was sentenced to seven years, his lawyer had talked it down from the twelve the state wanted to give him.
Getting fired reduced, but did not eliminate, his child support, which he had to pay from prison. He gave his dad the legal power to manage everything for him.
He got a break on the divorce attorney. She was the criminal lawyer’s wife. She didn't cut him a deal on rates, but the two of them worked seamlessly and didn't bill him for lawyer-to-lawyer communication.
Drake got into another prison fight.
In the divorce, his wife’s medical records were subpoenaed. She had three pregnancy tests at a doctor’s office in a state of panic because she didn’t know who the father was. She had been cheating on him the entire marriage.
Drake got into another fight. And another….
It all blurred together. Why did he let himself get involved? He didn’t have to.
He was in prison. Drake hated prison. The other guy was bigger, but Drake was pretty good at this. The other guy didn’t know how to defend against a leg sweep. He went down and Drake pummeled him over and over. He had learned to stop yelling when he pulverized a man, it made him look cold.
No one pulled him off. That was strange, the wardens should be here by now. Drake stood up and the other humans cheered while the orcs grumbled. Wait. Orcs?
Oh yeah. This was the present. It wasn’t the Vermont penitentiary. He was in a fantasy jail with humans, orcs, and a shirtless guy with long black hair, pale white skin, and whose blood veins glowed from blue to black depending on how angry he was. A Chthonic Elf.
Kai wobbled a bit, that orc had hit hard. He looked down at his opponent… shit. He’d really messed that guy up. Drake shouldn’t be like this. Lily wouldn’t want that.
“Can anyone heal him?” Drake said loudly. He was missing his winter coat, his breath frosted in the air.
“I’ll do it if you give me your food,” the elf said.
Drake hated prison food, the others didn’t know that though and he was not about to admit anything he could use later. He knew what game to play.
“Orcs! Give over some of your food and his guy will heal your friend.”
They laughed at him. Good.
“You can have a portion of mine.” He offered as a negotiation gambit.
The orcs laughed more. So did the elf. The humans looked pissed. That was weird.
When the food came, he found out why. The prison food had rules that orc prisoners enforced. Orcs ate. No one else did. Orc and goblin wardens dumped bread in one pile and put a couple of buckets of water next to it.
The imprisoned orcs rushed in to take it for themselves. No. Time to show them the benefits of respecting humans. Drake kicked one of them in the kidney, then backed off as the others tried to gang up on him. Drake kept moving, striking where he could, never daring to let them surround him.
When he saw the elf and humans just sitting there he said, “Guys! C’mon!” And he went back to tactical retreats with occasional strikes to keep the orcs busy.
The non-orc prisoners ate quickly, there wasn’t much choice. Finally, a human yelled, “You can stop chasing him, we ate it all!”
That confused the brutes, they were not bright. Half of them blamed each other and fought amongst themselves. The others were swarmed when the humans jumped into the fight and helped Drake out. He hadn’t expected that.
Things eventually calmed down. Drake heard the elf say, “All finished, new guy. Here’s your healthy orc.”
Drake stood tall. He had to look strong. The guys all had to see that joining with Drake was the better choice.
The orc said, “where dinner?” And kicked a few of his friends. Then they beat each other up all over again.
A few humans had gotten to eat, otherwise his efforts were wasted.
“Was that the burning seed of rebellion you hoped to plant or was there another one?” The elf asked laconically.
“That was it,” Drake admitted.
Yeah. That was his only trump card.
