Prologue
Many people consider the number seven to be a lucky number, as well as the 'fact' that the number thirteen to be unlucky. Where did such a concept come from?
Frankly, we are to blame for this. Well, not exactly me, but 'we' in general, the Order of Hermes.
What is the Order of Hermes? Well to explain it in detail would take too long you know. But in short, magicians need a place, a way to 'organize' and pool their resources, to somehow unite their goals with each other. And we the Order of Hermes, the best of the Nine Traditions, are such an organization that gave them this opportunity.
Magicians and Magic? Quite common really, so much so that not even all the Awakened realize how much magic is actually a 'non-magical' action.
What's an Awakened? Well, it's us, the awakened magicians, there are also linear or hedge magicians. Linear magicians are things like vampires, fairies, sorcerers... But I wonder if spirits are considered linear magicians? From the point of view of the Order of Hermes it's more 'yes' than 'no', but it is a rather complex topic to talk about...
Oh yeah, what was I talking about? Yes, that's right, lucky numbers!
Seven is traditionally considered a lucky number, like a three and, by the way, like a nine - a tripling of threes. It seems to me in this case twenty-seven should also be considered a particularly lucky number - triple triplet of triplets or three of the third degree, cubic luck...
Hmm, I'm sorry, I'm running off tracks again.
So, lucky numbers and how we are to blame for this.
If you look closely, our whole world is somehow saturated with the number three. According to the Babylonians, the world consists of three parts - Paradise, Earth, and Hell. The biblical God is represented in the form of the Holy Trinity. The Three Norns are spinning the fate of the Scandinavians. Trimurti are united as the three faces of the gods of Hinduism. Third time's a charm, after all.
There are also a lot of cases where the number seven pops up in our world. Seven great gods of Sumer, seven spirits of Egypt, seven rishis, seven metals of the Magnum Opus, the seven years the temple of Solomon was under construction… In other words a lot of 'coincidences'. There is a lot of numerology, in the world, in which, in general, we are mostly to blame for first of all.
We, as in the Order of Hermes, not like, me personally - and not my old man personally...
Wait, you're still confused? Interesting... But what else to expect from a Sleeper? Okay, I'll start from the beginning...
***
I was born under the name... Let's leave my name out of something that others would read huh. A 'name' is a very important part of our being after all and I do not want to trust you with this secret. Not that I don't trust you per se, let's just say that there's a lot of ways of finding out secrets even without the secret keeper blabbing it out.
In any case, I was born on the eighth of August in the year one thousand nine hundred and eighty-two in the year of our Lord, in London, Great Britain, in the family of my father and my mother. It's the year 1982 AD if you have a reading difficulty.
That's probably all I can say about them, anything positive, at least. After all you either only speak good things about the dead, or nothing but the truth. And the truth is that in the four years that I spent living with them, only one thing has been deposited in my memory bank. My first and last memory of them. The fire in which they died - and where I almost died too.
How many times have people told you 'don't smoke in bed' - but it never works. Father was drunk, mother... probably, too? And soon the whole house was on fire. Now, I'm afraid there is no way for me to check this. Although, if you find a couple of people versed in Ars Spirituum, then you can summon her ghost. But, well, what good will it do?
In any case, as I was four years old, my parents' house burned down with them inside and I as well. I should have also died with them, but… I learned about what magic is as the world around me burned. Back then, I just wanted to be as far away as possible - and somehow I did. I have Awakened. Well, not really, that came later. But let's just say my 'eyes' were opened a bit. The story of how they found me on the Trafalgar Arch deserves a separate mention.
It didn't take long for me to end up in an orphanage. As I had stayed there I, probably, would have been taken to a foster family... but they didn't. Back then I didn't even wonder why, it took awhile for me to learn that the old man, my soon to be adoptive father, had pulled a couple of old favors. As I had later learned, it seems that even if he was on a deserted island, the old man would be able to find a couple of spirits that once owed him and would have pulled the soul out of them for a couple of favors... Metaphorically speaking that is. He could do it for real, but the old man prefers not to.
Anyway, I spent two years in the orphanage - not a bad two years mind you. While my relations with the other orphans and caretakers were strained, I would be asking too much if I also wanted their friendship when I was the 'strange child' to them. I was indeed strange, they were normal. I was Awakened, they were Sleepers. It was a story you can find anywhere.
And for that two years the old man watched over me. Sometimes he came under the guise of an old friend of the teacher, Miss Rockberry, or perhaps some other disguises. But more importantly, as he visited, he exchanged phrases with me, and gave me books a couple of times. The content of these books was mind-blowing to say the least, and their language was as mind-bogglingly difficult to parse but they were interesting to read.
Although I will not give my child the complete collection of the works of Paracelsus as a gift mind you. Well at least until they're twelve years old at least.
What my old man had done is a normal practice when scouting for prospective Awakened, or at least Sleepers that have a potential to awaken. The magicians of the Order are very secretive, and I was a four year old kid. So as I stayed in the orphanage they watched me, assessed me… Should they kill me? Maybe. Killing children is not the most worthy act, but if I turned out to be a petty asshole or worse a Widderslainte, it might be the best possible option to 'snip the bud' as they say.
The old man watched me for two years, and then satisfied by what he sees, adopted me.
Everything was done in an honest and official way, he even brought all the necessary documents all signed and notarized… The documents themselves were, of course, fake as sin. After all, unfortunately, in our mundane society there is some prejudice against people who have lived for over a thousand years. Though, don't tell the old man that I've revealed his secret. He likes to say that he's a little over forty and he is young in soul and body.
Though, maybe it's true in a certain point of view? He definitely didn't live on Earth for that long of a time. A thousand-year on Earth is not the best way to remain young after all.
And so I got new documents and a new name, well a 'mundane' name. Jonathan Arian Goodman, nice name, isn't it? The name of a magician, or more precisely, the name by which he is commonly known needs to sound melodious, in the end.
And so, as I turned six years old, I'm now the adopted son of my old man. What? That's too long of a prologue and I should get on with it? Well okay geez, be patient will you, the good stuff comes after this.
***
It's cool to be a magician, to be an Awakened. It's not very cool to realize how difficult it is to be a magician. And it's not at all very 'cool' to understand that everyone is a magician - and this makes being a magician especially bad for you. I'll explain more about it a bit more later.
The history of the creation of the world is long and not the most interesting... No, more precisely, it is very interesting, so if you have time, be sure to read about it, but for my story it is way out of a tangent. So, I'll simplify it a little.
Once upon a time long, long ago, there was a caveman. And he thought - 'I want me to have a thing that is warm!' And lightning flashed, struck a tree - and fire appeared.
The man took the fire and then thought 'hmm, this thing must be scary for the wild animals' and wild beasts began to fear fire. And then the man thought - 'it would be cool if this thing could cook food!' And the food began to cook.
In short, man came up with fire. He didn't invent it, he didn't learn to use it, he didn't study it... But he just imagined it - and it happened.
In fact, the whole world was made up in the same way. Mankind believed that the world had a solid ground - and so a solid ground existed under his feet. Then mankind came up with the idea that the Sun went beyond the horizon - and so the world began to turn.
Well, you know, the biblical 'and then God created light, the sky, and the dirt' this is approximately it. Except that the Biblical God and man in this context are the same. Mankind just thought, invented and believed - and 'it' simply is so.
Although, some of my more religious brothers like to philosophize on this topic. Or as I would like to call it, thinking in circles. After all, man was created in the image and likeness of God, which means that God is the image and likeness of man… and so on and so forth. It doesn't matter.
However, what happened next? The second thing intervened, infinite like human ingenuity, is his stupidity.
And so another caveman thought - 'the fire probably consumes the tree on which it burns.'
And you know what? The fire burned out, along with the tree.
This is where all the problems began. Not specifically from the fire, but from the fact that different people, all practically omnipotent in their faith, began to out think one after another.
We need air in order to breathe - and there must be oxygen in the air - and oxygen must go to the lungs - and the lungs give it to the blood - and hemoglobin in the blood - and hemoglobin is iron - and iron is a metal - and metals must be mined - and mined they are from the ground - and they got to the ground due to cosmic radiation - and radiation is from the Sun...
This linked chain grew, grew, grew - and in the end people faced a problem. What if different people believe in different things? One thinks that he can fly, and the other that he cannot. What happened next?
People are almost omnipotent in their faith, but there are many people, perhaps too much.
It is very difficult to resolve the issue if two groups of people believe in opposite things. But if say, one believes in flight and ten in the absence of flight, then it is not so difficult to determine the winner of this kind of competition.
Ten people do not believe in flying, but one believes. As a result, nobody flies. Ten people believe that fire burns, and one does not believe - the fire burns all eleven people.
Thus, the Consensus was gradually formed. A great name, a kind of agreement of minds about what they believe in. Yes, one person can believe that he is immortal - but if seven billion people say 'no' to him, then his faith means little. Well, not quite, at least not yet.
At first, the Consensus was not very strong. During the Middle Ages, people were poorly educated, and superstition ruled the world. This was a golden age for magicians, especially us, the Order of Hermes. These times are where the typical image of magicians were born. Dressed in high caps and large robes, sitting in their towers. This is us, the Magicians, the Awakened.
More precisely, we were once like that.
Anyway, anyway, how did the magicians come about? If all people are omnipotent, then why did the division into magicians and non-magicians appear?
The Consensus, the agreement of people's beliefs, this is where the distinction lies.
It is like a chain of belief. A man believed that fire does not burn and taught that it so to his children. His children, childrens' were then taught that fire does not burn, and so on and so forth. Until one day fire no longer burns them. The essence of magic is not being able to draw the most beautiful pentagrams - although it helps sometimes - but in their belief.
Magicians are simply people whose blind 'faith' of the Consensus has degenerated.
People have by the time of the Consensus stopped believing that they are omnipotent. When you are a peasant whose daily life is to thresh grain since childhood, it's difficult to unexpectedly simply believe that you can grow wings and fly.
This is how the division between magicians and non-magicians appeared. All of us, one way or another, were taught in school that two plus two equals four, but why is that so? Asking a person whether or not they believe that two plus two equals four would only get you strange looks. You are just supposed to 'know' it.
You 'know' that the Sun rises in the east, you 'know' that water is wet, you 'know' that fire is hot… But you don't believe it, you 'know' it. A magician is one who believed.
If you jump up, you will fall down, you 'know' that flight is impossible. But a magician believes that by drawing the correct pentagram and drawing the desired symbol, he will fly. And so he will fly.
Of course, it's not that simple.
The Consensus, the agreement of minds about what to believe in, is always on guard. But the Consensus is not all-seeing - not so many people believe in the laws of physics as they just know about them, however, it is there. Seven billion knowledgeable people, even if they do not believe very strongly, still counts for something scary. Seven billions' belief in their 'common sense' would crush a lone magician's.
And therefore the magician can fly, the Consensus will allow him to do this. It is after all nothing more than the embodiment of the mundane people's common sense, not supported by the sincere faith of people. However, what bad luck, seven billion people 'know' that a person cannot fly... And then they saw someone flying. What happens next?
Paradox. Literally and figuratively.
More than the philosophical discussion about events happening in contradiction to each other, a Paradox is a real tangible thing. When a normal person sees a flying magician, he begins to think 'how did such a thing happen?'. And so his belief began to wander. And when a nascent god begins to wander, let's just say that if the poor magician is lucky if he'll only lose control of his spell and fly faster or something. And then the Paradox would come and ruin his day. And that's bad.
It's very hard, almost impossible for magicians to use magic, or at least as we call it 'vulgar magic', in front of the public. To do something that is impossible for them or at the very least the Consensus even if it is possible for you.
Of course you could try, and you might even succeed, you would probably then wish that you didn't. After you did something so monumentally stupid, the public will suffer perhaps a bit of value dissonance for a while until the Lie, the Consensus, will lull them back to sleep. The very stupid Magician however is doomed as the waves of 'reality' washes over him. If he were lucky, the Paradox will simply hunt him down until the day he dies, or make amends… somehow. If he was unlucky, well…
The old man knew this one guy - he was a great man, a great magician. He had peered into the future, saw the First World War happening and without pause, he simply turned off the explosiveness of gunpowder throughout the earth to prevent Gavrillo Princip from shooting the Archduke. Then he flew to Paris in his zeppelin and declared himself the king of the world. After all he had just beaten the Paradox! Nothing could stop him remaking the Earth as he wishes!
The Paradox did not appreciate his efforts. Now only about five people on the whole Earth remember him. As well as the place of his birth, as well as the geographical area about where he was, even his name will not be remembered now. Many don't even know that he ever existed. Like you, for example. The Paradox had corrected his interference, by 'correcting' the world so that he did not exist in the first place. The unfortunate magician wanted to do what was best… according to the old man at least.
In general, with the Paradox, being unsubtle is really really bad.
The lack of Paradox is why magicians felt so free during the Middle Ages, when people themselves were ready to believe in witches and sorcerers. Back then, doing 'vulgar' magics in front of the mundanes might even 'help' the magician. A pipe dream of that happening in the modern world. And that is why, in modern times, there are no miracles anymore.
Okay, magicians are not saints either. For example the Black Death, the greatest plague of Europe... Yes, it was also created by one for ours, or at least he's responsible for it happening. Should we defend him, perhaps say that he just accidentally made a mistake? No, it's not worth it. We magicians have too many unpleasant pages in our history to bother with defending ourselves for one.
During the Middle Ages, magicians lived their golden age with abandon and magic covens determine the destinies of worlds. Little care was taken of normal people then. You are either a strong magician playing world politics - or a resource. And then the Technocrats took the stage. They were called the Order of Reason, back then when they first formed.
The Order of Reason was in its prime back then, perhaps you can even say that they were good people back then. The Renaissance is their work. They were the ones that invented education, handed out guns to people, taught people how to make high-quality steel, then cars, airplanes also appeared from their 'science'.
And then we, the magicians, started having problems.
The magicians of old paid too little attention to ordinary people, forgetting that every person has a potential to become a creator and a god, while the Order of the Reason staked everything on them. Why arrange grandiose battles against the armies of dragons and the undead If you can just make people not believe in them? Wielding the Consensus like a weapon, the Order of reason reigned supreme over the other Magicians.
They used this most terrible weapon against magicians - disbelief. This led to the current situation in the modern times where Magicians have to hide their Magic. Yes, a magician can still throw a fireball at any mundane… But at what cost?
No, we were not cornered and cease to exist mind you. Magic still has a place in the world and we are still like gods. We just need to 'adjust' our methods.
For example if you fly an airplane like an ace through magic, although you have never learned it in the past, it is unlikely, but still possible. It doesn't matter if in fact you just put an air spirit on the plane and mime piloting the plane, what matters is what people see. And what they see is you at the helm not something that breaks their image of the world. And often this is enough to avoid the watchful gaze of Paradox.
There are still other ways of course, just throw the Paradox on the artifact that you use, and do not create magic yourself. Try to convince the world around that the gas pipe exploded by itself, and you have nothing to do with it. Collect a cult of fanatics who will hide you from the gaze of Paradox with their belief that what you do is normal. And the last thing - go to Umbra.
Yes, Earth is the center of the universe - kind of - but not the only realm of existence in this world, parallel worlds for example are a viable alternative.
Technocrats love to talk about Umbra and space being related to each other - but they are wrong, Umbra is much more than just space.
Parallel worlds - which the Technocrats inexplicably associate with the planets.
Worlds of Mind - I wonder how the Technocrats explain them.
World Wide Web - Virtualists love to explore it, saying that the Internet is just a real reflection of the Web... In general, there are many options.
And Umbra, a place that is far from Earth's influence, is the go to place for magicians. First of all, because people believe that the Earth is the maximum that they can control. Well, at best, low-earth orbit - but no further. And for us magicians, it means that Paradox or more importantly the Consensus cannot reach Umbra.
Did I say that my old man didn't like to stay on Earth? Seven billion people do not really believe that one can live for a thousand years on Earth, and so the old man loved to go where people did not really reach, to Umbra.
We, the Order of Hermes, have long ago chosen many good places in Umbra to stay. In the end, when you comprehend the secrets of the universe and unexpectedly find yourself capable of destroying the world with a snap of your fingers, it is a little depressing to remain on Earth, where even for setting fire from your fingers, the faith of seven billion people can tear your hand off. Therefore, many of our old magicians left for Umbra. The old man also usually went there... And I also had to continue my studies there.
Oh, I digress .. Sorry, talkativeness. I like to talk about abstract metaphysical topics. Bani Bonisagus, what can I say.
In any case, the old man took me from the orphanage, revealed to me the truth of the world, and then began to teach me. Unfortunately, not magic, at first anyway.
Do you know how difficult it is to learn Latin when you are seven and you just want ice cream? How difficult is it to draw pentagrams if you are not quite confident in counting to five yet? I know. Thanks to my old man I was able to have a semblance of a normal education, but the teaching methods in the Order of Hermes are very peculiar so any chance of 'normality' goes out of the window…
For four years I was taught the main thing for a magician to know; stealth, etiquette, drawing, reading, writing, counting... Well, magic is a very demanding task!
Of course, 'believe in yourself' is a very simple piece of advice that unlike, for the mundanes, actually does something for us Magicians. Alas, it's better to decide what exactly you believe in first before you accidentally make the lecture hall to be made of pudding.
And, to understand what you believe in, you need to learn such basic things as Greek, Latin, astrophysics, alchemy... Sometimes it seems to me that the old man simply did not know how to communicate with children.
I was taught by the old man for four years, and when I was ten I went to a formal school. A school of magicians, by the way. A little later, I read that series of books about that 'Harry Potter and his miscellaneous artifacts'. Let's just say that I was able to say that I studied at Hogwarts. But when I studied there the book was not written yet - and studying at the academy of magicians was surprisingly mundane if not eclectic.
In the first lesson you studied trigonometry, in the second you have to calculate the angles of a pentacle, in the third a lesson in etiquette, then lunch, and after that dueling with swords. I'm not proud to say that it was my worst subject - and then French as my second worst. Because fuck the French.
They taught us conscientiously, but I still don't consider my teachers friends. And finally the worst subject that they teach you, politics. Do you know what kind of politics an Order with a thousand years of history, ruled by potentially endlessly living old people, in whose hands most authority is concentrated on, authority that makes Earth's worst tyrannies look tame in comparison? Politics, byzantine politics at that.
Therefore, with politics being a thing, we devoted no less time to history and etiquette than to alchemy and numerology. A lot of people didn't like it, idiots, but what can you do? Not all people are able to appreciate the beauty of undercover intrigue. Although all sorts of 'killer' parts of these intrigues - not my favorite.
So, I studied in the Order for seven years. Theurgy, goetia, celestology... Again the number seven, popped up. And then, I turned sixteen. And then eleven more months passed. It was August ninety-ninth.
The old man grinned then, at my graduation prom. He patted me on the back, gave me a glass of wine for the first time in my life, and then announced to me that he wanted to give me a present for my birthday. I know that he had long wanted to retire completely from business within the Order - and I apparently showed great aptitude. In fact, I was an Adept at seventeen, although not officially recognized - the higher-ups expected a great future for me.
So, being who he is, the old man wanted to give me his position in the Order. An honor to be sure, but a mere Seventeen year old Adept would be torn apart by the council, metaphorically speaking of course. Not like I could refuse, so the old man is going to show me the ropes of his job.
So my future would have me dealing with our and eight other Traditions, also magicians, just not ours, for a long long time until I myself retire somewhere. Not a bad deal if I say so myself. I would go on adventures, solve the Order's mysteries. I could also see myself taking a couple of students for myself in the future, maybe participate in the Great Game against fellow Order members. Maybe even take a stroll in Umbra, have as much fun as I can… Well, that's far in the future, now I'm just preparing myself for the trip to the Umbra with the old man.
And so, soon after my graduation, I went with him to Umbra. He was grinning, already his thoughts filled with private beaches on the shore of some World Ocean, and I was not a little nervous. Also Eliza refused me... Stupid girl. I just invited her to a dance, not like I was proposing to her or anything - and I brought such magnificent flowers!
Eh, right, the trip to the Umbra. Not long after the dance, my old man took me to his private office for the first time, and arranged the ritual himself - and we went to Umbra. What? Too bland? Well, the old man did not like much theatricality - although the old man was from the Order of Hermes, how strange. And therefore there were no grandiose rituals, just a couple of candles and a couple of pentagrams. Then I just stepped into the ritual circle, and suddenly found myself walking forward along a road stretching ahead. The old man walked side by side, we both looked at the worlds under our feet… A path between worlds with the world itself under our feet. Not gonna lie, it was very cool.
***
Do you know what the worst problem being a magician is? Not Paradox, not the Sleepers and their Disbelief, not rare ingredients, not about the dying belief in miracles, not even the self-awareness of how insignificant you really are.
It's other Magicians.
There are many other magicians. Surprising, I know. For the mundanes who never see one their whole life, you would be surprised at the number and kind of magicians there are.
There are our allies of different Traditions. Magicians like me, only a bit different.
Then there are Primitive witches running through the woods. The kind who religious missionaries used to run into back in the days. Religious fanatics, the kind of people who like to burn witches. Dumb junkies whose mind cracked so badly they actually learned magic. Gothic emo, which are related to magicians only by the love of cloaks, but have some outliers that can do some cantrips. Crazy scientists playing their little games pretending to be god hard enough that they actually somewhat become one. Those boring Shaolin monks, talking about cultivation, chi, and thousand year old ginseng and holy mountains. Mournful shamans banging drums. Zombie-like 'keepers of balance' and other nonsense.
And the least expected, spectacled no-lifers that read too many light novels. Though with the state of the world, I wouldn't be surprised if their number grew enough that there would be actual magical trucks that 'Isekai' people. I know the Technocrats would laugh themselves silly if that were to happen.
We have our own problems and conflicts, but we solve them, one way or another.
And then, there are our opponents, rivals of the Order and Traditions, the Technocrats. Swaggering and mossy science fiction lovers who were once decent magicians. They're now just a rusted colossus, too concerned about their own power and worth, pretty much everyone hates them. We don't kill each other when we meet, usually anyways.
Then there are our enemies, the enemy our Order, or more like pests really, the Marauders. Magicians who have become so obsessed by their magic and became mad because of it, a pitiful sight. They were not bad people really, but madness in addition to incredible power is the reason why when a Magician meets a Marauder, they rarely part ways in peace.
Then there's the enemy of all magicians - Nefandi. I don't even want to talk about them. Let's just say that it's a very rare occasion when Traditions, Technocrats and Marauders have agreed on something.
And lastly, for me personally anyway, assholes. And ones' are about to rear its ugly head.
Going along with the old man along the Gauntlet, I didn't know that my trip would soon be plagued by the action of assholes.
I said that Umbra is everything that is not Earth, so you can just imagine the amount of things you can find there. You will find infinite parallel Earths in Umbra. You can find Hell to the ninth circle where the Devil is frozen. You can find the Paradise from which God drove Adam and Eve off of. You can find Olympus - and then mill around until you give Zeus an idea for another demigod. You can find a world where your favorite cartoon lives according to its own concepts. You can find in Umbra your favorite book come to life, exactly as you imagined it. You can find everything in Umbra.
The Orders have long chosen Umbra as our headquarters and flooded it with our own worlds. Here where there's no limits except our imagination, Magicians rule supreme.
Doissetep, a great fortress for the Order of Hermes, the invincible palace that the Order of Hermes had placed at the very center of the Forces Shard Realm. A world that embodies all the energies of all manifestations, all the power of all existence.
And it occurred to one asshole to arrange a battle there.
Do you know what will happen if you battle a bunch of masters and archmages in a world that embodies all kinds of forces operating in all existing universes?
Nothing, fucking, good.
***
I don't remember exactly how it happened. Me and my old man were just walking, exchanging words, the chaotic Umbra under our feet and then… A strange sound resounded in my ear. No, it was like a 'boom', or maybe 'fushshshhh', I'm not really sure.
It's just that, at some point, I realized that I was going to die. As simple as that.
I realized that whatever happened would kill me and I was at a loss.
I can teleport, I can do many very interesting things with magic. With quintessence, I know how to properly separate Aqua from Terra - a very rare skill in fact… But at that moment, with certain death looming, I was confused, I was frozen.
The Old man was not taken aback, I always knew he was good, he immediately found stable ground. I was not so lucky. I fell towards the pool of… whatever the fuck happens when reality shudders.
And then I saw it.
Do you know what you call the concentrated power of all existing universes, meta-universes, omni-universes and other things?
I don't know.
But I saw it.
And then I started falling towards it. Only for my hands to be gripped tight.
My old man saved me.
Old fool, why? He had to jump himself, to save me then, certainly dooming himself… Why? He has immense knowledge, strength, and acquaintances in high places and he threw it all away… Why? People like me are not rare. Perhaps my talent and prospect is quite good - but nothing compared to a master of the art like my old man. The scale is heavily one-sided.
And, yet that old fool still grinned at me as he threw me out of the way of my certain death into the nearest world.
In fact, thanks to him throwing me towards the nearest world was not a bad move, I survived the wave of cataclysmic… whatever. The landing was not the softest, but I at least don't have to find out what happens when you get struck by a wave of… that..
Thank you old man.
After I arrived in this New World I hit my head hard and fell into oblivion. Not the best start, I know.
I passed out long enough to start rambling to nothingness… Hahhh, when I wake up, I'll have to check my head.
***
Oh yeah, what was I talking about at the start? Oh that's right Numbers. Lucky and Unlucky numbers.
We, the Order of Hermes, have done a lot to make sure that our view of things is spread, and that includes our particular view of Numerology. Why? Heck if I know. To help with Pentagrams maybe?
From ancient Egypt to modern neo-paganists - our traces are many. The thing with the numbers three, seven, thirteen… that's all our doing.
But, you see, in the Hermetic tradition, the number eight is considered the most unlucky.
I used to think it was stupid, but… Born on the eighth day of the eighth month and at half eight years old already orphaned. Went to Umbra for the first time at eight o'clock in the morning after my eighteen birthday and some random asshole decided to attack one of the most defended fortresses in existence. And as a result of the battle, I lost my adoptive father, lost in Umbra in an unknown world without the ability to get out, without any possibility for help and without a penny in my pocket. I'm starting to see a pattern here.
When all you've got is magic
A young guy lying on the ground of a dirty alley could repel the attention of a passer-by with three actions.
The first was that he continued to lie on the ground. This was unusual for Atlas residents, but more often than not, it would be ignored if he continued to lie in the muddy alley, and not on the main road, disturbing passers-by.
The second was their appearance. Drunkards were not the most frequent sight in Atlas. And even if Atlas residents met one, they were usually just dirty vagrants who, for some strange reason, had not yet been thrown out of their wonderful floating city. So because the young man was, which is important, young and looked neat enough, he looked nothing like a dirty drunk vagrant.
And the third fact, which was related to the second, was his clothes. A neat expensive looking cloak that could fit, as an adult and a serious inhabitant of Atlas would remark with a grin, to some magician straight out of some children's entertainment or, which was much more likely, to a Hunter.
However, Hunters almost never parted with their weapons. And therefore an unarmed Hunter lying on the floor in a dirty alley would have attracted attention especially strongly.
Although, of course, with the way mecha-shift weapons most Hunters preferred, almost anything in the young man's person could be a weapon.
Taken in its entirety, almost everybody would ignore the prospective Hunter lying in the discreet alley. All the good Hunters are all weirdos after all.
But of course, the young man was unarmed. As a proud Adept of the Order of Hermes, carrying something that the Technocrats would slobber over would be anathema. Of course, he was unarmed only in the minds of those inhabitants of Atlas familiar to Hunters rather than to the Practitioners of Art.
And the young Magician would prefer to keep it that way.
That is why, when the inconspicuous young man, who was lying so calmly in his place, seemed to shake awake, most people ignored him. And when he then calmly turned over onto his back, all the while slowly spreading his limbs in the pose of a star, nobody really noticed. When he sucked in air noisily, as if taking a deep breath, and slowly breathed out, none of those people that could curiously peeked into the alley could have guessed that the actions taken were not a manifestation of carelessness. Instead, it was a well-played performance for any possible observer, which allowed the magician currently lying on the ground to use magic under the nose of a possible completely attentive opponent.
Sharply exhaling, the young man paused for a second, to see if anyone was going to ambush him. Seeing none coming, he opened his eyes and lifted himself abruptly from the ground.
"I hate making a pentacle out of my own body." The now awakened magician, Jonathan, brought his legs and arms back together, which just a few seconds ago, thanks to his action, formed a primitive, but still effective five-directional magic seal.
"I confess, I'm still not very sure where I am... But I don't seem to be tied to a sacrificial altar or table of one of those techno-vivisectors I heard about. A reason to rejoice at my luck, at least."Jonathan grumbled, as he ran his hand over his face, to knock any remnant of sleepiness from his psyche.
Immediately, memories of what had just happened to him rushed to his mind persistently, but fragmentarily.
"Old man... Storm... Umbra? Damn it, Umbra!" Jonathan shook his head in alarm, before deciding to inspect his surroundings.
A dark alley between the shadows of several buildings, building sizes looked normal enough and at a glance seemed to be twenty-stories high. Architecturally, the building around him looked like something like these American high-rises... Although, in London's business districts, everything looks about the same.
Judging by what the fragmentary memory helpfully conveyed to Jonathan, he was not on Earth. Thanks to the old man's last ditch effort, he's now safely stranded in one of the very very many Umbral worlds. At least this Umbral world so far looked approximately similar to Earth. Jonathan could only hope that this was not another of the Umbral worlds where the Nazis won World War II, considering how many Nephandis fought for them then, he did not want to find his local Umbral refuge full of the oblivion-seeking bastards.
Shaking his head of the cheery thought of having to fight the mad magicians, Jonathan rose from the ground, then dusted himself off and looked at his surroundings closer.
The Umbral's world logic could be anything, varying so much as it is possible to find one world that is inhabited exclusively by normal humans and differs from Earth only in trifles so insignificant that ten Magisters Mundi could not find this difference in a thousand years. Or they could be so alien that just his appearance alone could elicit a response analogue to the awakening of L… that particular demon in relation to local customs.
Although, according to the normal-looking buildings that looked familiar enough, the probability of the latter being true was unlikely. Though, again, infinite possibilities means that he needs to be on his toes.
Shaking any remnant of horror of his head, Jonathan looked if there were anyone around him. Thankfully, as his previously casted magic has informed him, there was no one around nearby. It also told him that the old man was nowhere near him… if he even had made it to this world he didn't really know. The spell he had casted, magia, a rather crude and simple spell named according to the traditions of the Order, allowed him to check the presence of other people and especially mages. Sadly his impromptu pentacle and lack of materials, meant that while it is sufficient in checking for possible witnesses, is wholly unsuited in finding the old man.
Jonathan felt ennui at the prospect of losing the old man, then exhaled slowly and shook his head. Despondency... It was not the path he was willing to choose without ever trying to take a step along the path of action, especially not senseless self-pity.
The old man could have landed in this world, he definitely has the capability to do so, but he might have gotten tossed around by the quake that had passed through Umbra. So the possibility certainly exists that the old man has arrived in the same world as he did, simply not the same place as Jonathan did… Jonathan certainly would like to hope so. So, lacking any other present goal, Jonathan needed to find the old man. Or at the very least start a search for him.
However… Jonathan glanced around at the dirty alley around him, then logically concluded that his current location did not look like a good base where a worthy Adept should perform any rituals. In preparation of finding a good base of operation, and most likely interacting with the locals, Jonathan decided to take stock of what he is wearing.
Right now, he was wearing his robe - the same one he wore at his graduation. Under it - a shirt, tie, trousers, and in one of its inner pockets - glasses. Not that he needed them, but the glasses were great for performing some common spells, so Jonathan preferred not to neglect such a simple but effective method.
Nothing too compromising - although some people might look strangely at his mantle...
Although, in the Umbral world, they might look at him strangely if he did not wear a mantle - assuming that this world was inhabited by people, not anthropomorphic lizards, of course.
However, further contemplations were perhaps quite useless in regard to his lack of concrete information about the place. So he, with a sigh, slowly moved toward the exit of the dark alley - to look at the streets of the city he had found himself in - and its inhabitants.
The city, which unfolded itself before Jonathan's eyes, looked like a fairly normal city at a first glance. The noises that soon buffeted him next, was perhaps to be expected of a bustling city. It seemed the alley had muffled a lot of the noises, and the sunlight that soon almost seared Jonathan's poor tired eyes.
A fairly small city, as far as Jonathan himself could tell. The streets were divided into two parts by cobbled paths, with not a substantial amount of foot-traffic. The buildings enclosing the street looked like normal Houses, with shops and cafes with open summer veranda pockmarked in some pattern that Jonathan could not discern. Perhaps the only thing that distinguished this place from a normal city from Earth for Jonathan was the small number of cars parked along the edges of the roadway, and… the robots
Jonathan's gaze froze as he swept along the unique looking cars parked in the street.
Robots, two gray anthropomorphic robots moved slowly along the street, receiving only completely disinterested glances in response from passers-by. The robots, in complete unison, moved smoothly like trained soldiers along the road.
Jonathan barely stopped to let out a silent shriek as he literally leapt to the safety of the dark alley.
"Not Technocrats, not Technocrats!" Jonathan felt a lump rise in his throat. Holy fuck, in the name of the thrice glorified Tri-Hermes, please, let this not be the
Umbral fortress of the Technocracy! Let it not be one of the thousands of Technocracy colonies, packed to capacity with magicians who have already set off on the trail of spatial disturbances caused by his appearance in the world! Thrice Greatest, please, not that!
Jonathan was beset by panic, literally stopping his breathing, and then rushed for the nearest trash can. As he puked his stomach contents out, so great was his panic that the possibility of using teleportation didn't even enter his mind. Not that it would help, not with technos!
As he heard the telltale sound of mechanical footsteps, Jonathan froze, only allowing himself to breathe in and out slowly. Silently, listening to the measured step of the moving robots heading towards him, Jonathan moved behind the trash can and crouched.
Step by step, the steps grew louder. As he cowered behind the trash can, Jonathan suppressed the instinctive desire to just throw the trash cans over the heads of the robots, and then run like hell in a random direction. With a great heave of control, with his heart continued to pound in his chest, Jonathan squished the panic as best he could.
The mechanical steps grew louder, louder, louder… and the siren song of casting teleportation, as useless as it would be, is getting stronger and stronger. Luckily before his heart could explode out of his chest, the footsteps bagan to subside.
Hearing the steps gradually begin to subside, moving away as calmly as they were approaching, he relaxed. Jonathan paused for a few seconds for any possible ambush, before slowly breathing out his held breath when a surprise laser to the face didn't materialize.
With the portent of approaching doom past, did he then realize that he was hiding behind trash cans that smelled of rotting trash. Jonathan quickly staggered to his feet.
Huh, huh... For whatever reason - the robots had passed Jonathan by without doing anything. Something that means that either he somehow managed to hide his magical actions very well, or that the robots themselves did not have the suitable visors to detect it. Of course, the most likely option, which was the most ideal of the options, was that they did not belong to those techno-maniacs in the first place. As much as he likes to tout his own skill, he was not arrogant enough to claim that an Adept like him could fool the likes of the Technocrats, in their homes no less.
Jonathan took another deep breath, before fully stretching to his full height. Whatever the outcome, he needed to get out of here, and the best thing for him to do for now was to change his clothes. If there were already robots in this world, it is unlikely that robes were in fashion in this world.
Pulling off his cloak, Jonathan turned to the nearest trash can, stretched out his hand… and was wrought with indecision, the cloak in his hands poised over the trash bin.
This was the mantle in which he had celebrated the completion of his studies. A robe that the old man had personally approved of. The mantle with which so many pleasant memories were associated with… the hand was immediately retracted.
Besides, he shouldn't be scattering his personal belongings and leaving them where they could be found. Who knows the limit of things a hostile magician could do with one of his treasured possessions.
So while he indeed needed to quickly change his clothes, he needed to find something to stash it in. A good bag or ideally, a shelter where he can lay low for a while. Now that he has taken off his cloak though, he started to feel a bit chilly… it seemed that he had another reason for his pressing need to find that shelter.
Plan in mind, he took a sharp step out into the street again, casting a wary glance at the robots passing by, and hurried forward, giving no reason for these possible creation of techno-terrorists to notice his appearance.
Jonathan's gaze quickly and meticulously studied the signs along the street, pleasantly surprised that they were written in English and not some Eldritch language that would rot his brain just by looking at it… like French for example. Jumping between the signs, he began to look for a place to procure some 'normal' clothing.
"Atlas War Point" Jonathan shrugged at the first clothing store he found, too pedestrian for his tastes and walked on, at least he has found where the clothing stores are. With a small jog, Jonathan began to peruse the various stores all the while trying not to break into a run so as not to attract too much attention.
"Seven Sevens", "White Swan", "Miss Adel Boutique"... Oh, that one sounds promising!
Jonathan quickly walked the few steps to the boutique, then slowed down a bit as he walked inside, giving his appearance a double check at the mirror, and took a step inside.
The building's interior, by the standards of Jonathan himself, looked suitable for a clothing store that could cater to his tastes. The several mannequins draped in slightly extravagant, but in Jonathan's own opinion, stylish clothes made his venture worthwhile. And, importantly, visitors that he could compare the world's style of dress to.
Seeing a young girl standing next to the cash register, Jonathan released a breath that he wasn't aware he was holding. The girl was not wearing a gray overalls, the chosen dress code of the Technocrats. Those Heretics required all its members to be as 'efficient' as they are and effectively lose all their taste in clothing. And those control freaks would never allow anyone to skirt their dress code, so she most likely did not belong to the Technocrats. Those bastards would be the type to control everyone's clothing, so that means that the situation was not completely lost, yet.
Jonathan then tensed the moment one of the visitors, a young man dressed in ordinary casual clothes in the form of a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, held out a small purple-pink rectangle to the cashier.
"Money." Jonathan grumbled. "Of course, money."
If Jonathan had patted his pockets - he could have found, perhaps, a crumpled five pounds in one of his many pockets. But apparently, in this Umbral world, British crown money was not in use. Jonathan silently swore at the realization that he had no money.
Slowly, he closed his eyes, it seemed that he had to do something a bit drastic.
It was bad to steal. It was one of those simple lessons that parents give their children when they were three or four years old. Or again and again if their children have a certain predilection for kleptomania. And while his birth parents were not long in this world, they certainly imparted that lesson to young impressionable Jonathan's head. It was bad to steal. Very very bad.
However, 'bad' and 'wrong' actions did not mean that the action itself should never be performed. Yes, stealing was a very bad thing and… well it's not like he has any other options
Slowly, Jonathan rubbed a hand on his head. He'll just take... A small amount of money, and he'll give it back later. He'll remember this shop, so that later he can return everything he's taken, with interest.
Jonathan sighed, then closed his eyes. He'll need a bit of concentration to do this flawlessly. Bad enough he has to steal no need to also check what being found out casting magic does to him in this Umbral World.
With a small wave of his will he casted. Ars Conligationis, art of Aer, deed of Movement. Finding the process much harder than he expected, Jonathan stopped.
He needed another part to cast it without revealing himself.
For a more primitive explanation of the spell, it is akin to teleportation. Jonathan just needed to teleport several different small squares, which, apparently, represented money in this world, into his pocket.
This sounded not very difficult in theory - although impossible for the average person convinced that teleportation itself was impossible - but not so easy.
Using only Will, Quinta Essentia, he could replace some of the missing parts of the spell, but to replace all parts at once… to cast a spell without any rituals is sadly a bit far off for someone with Jonathan's capabilities.
But, it's not like he's out of luck, he just needed to use the other most essential part of being a Magician, imagination. Now, what action can make money move from the cash register to his pocket?
Jonathan smiled as an idea popped up in his head. Plan in mind, Jonathan approached the cashier that was currently busy doing something with the cash register. She was facing downwards, perfect for his plans.
Of course, a store robbery!
***
"This is a robbery." The calm voice sounded like thunder in the ears of the unfortunate girl, like a bolt from the blue. "Give me the money and no one will suffer."
The unfortunate girl froze, panic and bile both began to rise.
She was hired to this just three days ago… And now the store is being robbed!? She thought that Atlas doesn't do that! This is not why she moved here from Mantle, to face robberies in the middle of the city again!
The girl took a deep shuddering breath, feeling her hands grow cold and clammy. What is she going to do!?
Give away the money? She might as well say goodbye to her work! No, worse than that, Miss Adel will definitely find a way to claim compensation from her thanks to her staff of lawyers, and after a short and decisive trial, Lily will have to work for her until the end of the century! Free of charge and in the worst conditions imaginable!
Or, as an option, do not give the money, and get a bullet in the forehead for all her troubles.
Lily swallowed a nervous laugh, and then slowly, without making any sudden movements, looked up... Only, rather than seeing a barrel of a gun pointed straight at her face, she rested her eyes on a finger pointing at her, folded in a crude mimicry of a pistol, like the ones children do.
"Ha-ha, I beg your pardon." The voice, previously sounding monotone and threatening, now changed to a somewhat light and jovial mood. The finger gun, now removed from her face,allowed her to catch up to what was just said. "Just my stupid sense of humor."
Lily froze for a second, slowly understanding what was said, before her inner anger flared.
What idiot dared to do some stupid prank like that!?
Looking up sharply, Lily stared at the face of the idiot. He looked like a young teenage boy, five or ten years younger than Lily herself! Dressed in a white shirt and black trousers, with a little tousled black hair just below his shoulders pulled into a ponytail behind his back, his gray eyes and a slightly guilty smile, with which he seemed to be trying to apologize for his bad joke was quite fetching.
On the whole, the guy looked quite handsome, an impression that was seriously tainted by his bad sense of humor.
"Young man..." Calling all her polite rage to display her grievances with the young man, Lily said clearly, with a little bit of heat in her voice. "Be happy that I don't have the time to bother with the police!"
"Yes, I do apologize, it seems my joke had gone a little bit out of hand." The guy lightly explained, then bowed. "I truly apologize for my horrid behaviour. Do take this as a token of my sincere regret."
A second later, the guy rummaged through his pockets and handed her... Five hundred lien?
Lily blinked several times, to make sure that the panic hadnt made her delusional. No, her eyes weren't mistaken, five hundred lien at once...
Ha… well for that amount of money, she could excuse some bad humor. Besides a guy rich enough to hand that amount of lien as an apology, would be loaded enough to buy a lot of things. Who knows maybe she can guilt him into it a bit?
"Alright I accept the apology. But you better stop with that crude joke, mister! Some people may not like it and could react more extremely." Lily instantly became kinder, also becoming richer by five hundred lien. Something which definitely helped her mood.
"By the way, can I help you with something? Maybe some shirts, or trousers? It's all the newest collection, made with the support of the Schnee Corporation itself!" With that ordeal over with, Lily immediately switched to sales mode.
"Oh, that's great! I was looking to buy some of those." The guy was a little surprised by her exuberance but quickly nodded.
"Yes, of course. I need a pair of shirts, a pair of trousers, a nice raincoat, and a bag… preferably somewhat large-ish." The customer then began to list out his shopping list, making Lily really happy about the sales she's about to make.
"Of course, this very second!" Lily instantly melted. For five hundred lien and the large order, she could forgive him for such a joke without any problems!
***
An hour later, Jonathan came out of the boutique holding a decent sports bag, practically empty except for a couple sets of clothes. He was now wearing the black raincoat he just bought and covering his head and, partially, his face with a felt hat.
He was now poorer by two and a half thousand lien. However, given that he entered the store without the local analogue of money, called lien, at all, was it worth saying that he left the store richer by another five thousand lien instead?
Jonathan exhaled, then looked around him. With the sales clerk being understandable happy with his large purchase, Jonathan was able to learn some facts about the world that he found himself in with some small talks as he was fitted in for his clothes. Especially about the city he's in. Good news, it's not a Technocrat controlled city. Bad news, it might as well be.
In this world, as well as in this city called Atlas, at the moment it was two pm, the eighth of August, in the year one thousand seven hundred and thirty-two years from the discovery of Dust or the sixty-fifth year from the end of the Great War…
Jonathan smiled, at least the Nazis didn't win the Great War here!
He inquired as much information from the girl as he could, but it was difficult to ask questions about the specifics of this world without looking like a suspicious idiot. Of course, his apparently more than generous 'donations', might persuade the girl into not asking him unnecessary questions. But, if there was indeed someone that could find traces of his existence here, then it was best for Jonathan not to leave another, unnecessary information about himself.
Information, like the fact that he absolutely did not understand this Umbral world.
In addition, he was really quite embarrassed. After all, he had robbed the store for five and a half thousand lien! Even if this is roughly translated by the price of the things he purchased, equating one lien to a pound - five and a half thousand pounds was a normal monthly salary for a doctor or businessman!
Jonathan could only hope that when the owner of this boutique discovered the lack of money in the till, she would be merciful to the unfortunate clerk, which had helped him pick up an outfit.
Although, at the same time, Jonathan could pat himself on the back. Use the hermetic principle of similarity to get the desired result… His rank of Adept was indeed not mistaken!
Indeed, the robbery did indeed really take place, in a certain point of view. His actions were equal to the actions of the robber, the fear the saleswoman felt was equal to the fear of the robbed, his intentions and the most physical act corresponded to what the robbers were doing, so for a few seconds he actually did commit an act of robbery… If only a pantomime of one.
The stage set, all he had to do was use his Will to extrapolate what would happen and deposited the result of the robbery into his pockets. It is as if looking at the beginning of a scene and saying 'yes, we know how it all ends, so let's skip the further steps' and fast forwarding to the conclusion. In the end exactly fifteen cards, each the size of a bank card, ended up in Jonathan's pocket, seven and a half thousand lien. Two thousand of which he spent on clothes, and another five hundred he gave to the girl as an apology…
Jonathan felt like a bastard, considering that the thievery would be discovered soon enough, and with only one possible perpetrator… But there was no other choice. Either he stabbed the back of a defenseless girl, or risked ending up on a vivisector's table.
Jonathan really didn't want to be on the vivisector table.
Pulling on his cloak to calm himself down from the first really serious crime he committed in his life, Jonathan moved on. More than peeping at the dressing girls in the dressing room next door, he had committed grand larceny. A crime that an innocent girl will now be accused of. Jonathan shook his head.
Ha, all his life he was taught to do good and help people, but now...
"Okay, pity party over." Jonathan tugged at his cloak again, and then hurried forward before passers-by could start asking questions. Despite it being the 8th of August - it was still cool enough in the city, so his cloak came in handy to staff off hypothermia. But a place to live would be necessary if he wants to survive the night… Why is this damn place so cold anyway?
"Now… We need to find a place to live." Jonathan wasn't planning on living in the streets and started stealing food to survive after all!
Even if he didn't get the money in the most legal of ways, he had some money that he could use. Therefore, for now Jonathan could settle for a motel... Or rather, a hotel - if he didn't want to draw attention to his somewhat expensive clothes. The appearance of a well-groomed unknown person in a low-class shelter could be perceived by the local inhabitants... in different ways, not all of which were positive.
And, unfortunately, now there was no one behind him who could provide him with cover in case of possible asocial elements… Jonathan sighed, then looked around him.
So he needed a decent place… Looking around again to check that none of the local robots or technos had yet deigned to chase him after his act of magic.
Seeing none so far, Jonathan exhaled, and then headed forward, looking around for a decent hotel.
***
A couple of hours later, when the Sun - or its local analogue anyway - had already begun to slowly decline, Jonathan's wanderings ended. From afar he could see a building reminiscent of a decent hotel on Earth. When he got closer, he could better appreciate the somewhat opulent looking building. Good, he had found a place to stay.
Approaching the large glass doors, Jonathan took a step inside, then looked at the insides of the hotel.
The place looked like a mid-range hotel, not a multimillion-dollar a night monster, but rather a family business. From outside the five floored building looked good enough, with the inside matching that expectations.
As he looked at the ground floor, it seemed that the rooms started from the second floor, as the ground floor is occupied by the lobby and some kind of food court in the center.
Walking on the carpeted floor, and through the food court, Jonathan headed straight to the receptionist. As he rang the bell, conspicuously placed on the desk next to a sign that says 'We do not serve faunus', he then found himself face to face with a woman who looked no older than forty years old. The lady with austere features already marked by several deep wrinkles, dressed in clothes that would fit a British housewife, hair the color of faded hay tied up in a ponytail to the shoulder blades, seeing Jonathan, she instantly smiled.
'Faunus? Who are the faunus?' Jonathan tried to recall any scrap of information pertaining to the word, finding nothing, except information about the Greek gods. 'Okay, let's hope I'm not a faunus then.'
Actually now that he's thinking about it, he saw something similar in the clothing store. And the clerk didn't refuse his lien, so whatever this 'faunus' thing is, he's probably isn't one. Okay, it doesn't matter now, game face on Jonathan.
"Good afternoon, can I help you with something?" The receptionist politely inquired.
"Yes, I would like to rent a room, please." Jonathan smiled a polite smile, something that works most times in mollifying suspicions.
"Of course." The woman nodded to him. "Can you please show me your ID?"
Jonathan froze and swore in his mind. 'Cunt.' Ha… How could he forget something so simple?
Unfortunately, Jonathan definitely couldn't solve this problem the same way he solved his money problem. Even if he could steal other people's ID, the mismatch of ID's photo and his real appearance, would put an immediate end to his attempt to impersonate the real owner.
Jonathan felt vulnerable for a second before mustering himself and braking himself with all his strength to smile at the woman behind the counter. "I'm sorry, but my luggage was accidentally lost during my trip here." A half- truth, the best kind of lie.
"I see… I'm so.." The woman's eyes immediately went cold and Jonathan after another moment made a desperate attempt to salvage the situation.
"To assuage your fears, I'm ready to leave a deposit until I can find my luggage." Jonathan smiled. "Would three thousand lien suffice?"
After another moment of silence, the woman's face smoothed out a little, forcing Jonathan to release a sigh of relief internally. "Hmm... Three thousand lien is a significant amount, however…" Tch, it seemed she needed another push.
"Also I would like to immediately rent a room for two weeks. Naturally, with payment upfront for the fact that you agreed to help me in my desperate position."
Feeling his fate hanging in the balance, Jonathan threw out his last trump card, spending about a thousand lien based on the rates the hotel charged a night.
Well, he could always 'procure' more money he suppose.
"Hmm, I suppose it is the kindness to each other that distinguishes us from those animals." The woman acquiesce with one last insult to 'animals' for some reason?
As you would expect, when almost four thousand pounds - or lien - were involved - the woman easily yielded to Jonathan. Not forgetting, however, to deliver one last warning at the end.
"However, keep in mind that I will not be able to let you leave the hotel if you do not show me your documents." She said with faux seriousness.
'So be prepared to pay me for silence.' Jonathan deciphered the unspoken threat, but without the ability to refuse he just shook his head.
"Of course. I also do hope that my luggage will be found quickly." Jonathan smiled conspiratorially.
"In that case, if you have no objections, then here's your key. Room number two hundred twenty-six, our… Personnel were supposed to finish cleaning it." The woman instantly became kinder. "What name should I note down?"
"Jonathan, Jonathan Goodman."
"Interesting name, Mr. Goodman," The woman nodded knowingly, making Jonathan curse inwardly. It seems that in this world, or at least this city, such names were not in use.
"Okay, Mr. Goodman, here is your key." Well the woman definitely thinks it's a fake name.
A moment later, the key was in Jonathan's hand. Sending a last smile at the woman, Jonathan headed to his room. Sighing at the close call, he shook his head before going upstairs.
Once on the second floor gallery, some noise downstairs attracted his attention. As he looked down, he spotted a man, about thirty or forty years old... With a weapon?!
Jonathan froze, watching the pair of large mace hanging from the back of the man in plain sight. And it seemed that the woman behind the counter didn't care!?
'What is this, American heaven?!' Jonathan looked at the weapon the man carried in full view of everyone. And then watched, as the woman on the counter countenance beamed, looking at the approaching man. 'Oh, Triple Thriced… Ok I can see someone carrying some sort of weapon being okay, but why does he have two mace in open view when robots are walking down the street ?!'
However, the woman, seemingly not paying any attention to the fact that the man had a weapon, instantly broke into a smile, forcing Jonathan to shake his head and hurry away.
He didn't want to appear strange in this world and attract unwanted attention, at least not now.
A moment later, having reached his room, he opened the door, finding himself inside a decent room. The room was furnished with a good double bed, television - and, as Jonathan reeled with surprise, a terribly advanced television... Is that an LCD display?! Shit first the robots and now this, the Technocrats influence is unmistakable.
Jonathan was so surprised that he did not see the girl who appeared from the passageway next to his room. Although, to be honest, the girl, not older than ten, with her short stature, could not be seen at all behind the huge bucket that she was carrying in her hands.
A moment later, as expected the girl crashed into Jonathan, who was too shocked to enter his room. As he received an unexpected hit, making not the most courageous sound, he fell to the ground. The girl, unable to keep her balance from the impact, fell to the ground, quickly followed by the bucket of dirty water she was holding. The content of which doused Jonathan's completely new outfit with water, making him choke with indignation.
Moving his gaze, he, in the end, was able to see the source of his impromptu bath. The girl in front of him was, first of all, a girl, not older than ten years old. Secondly, her short hair, pulled together by a pair of rubber bands on the top of her head and her white, soiled, and in some places already torn clothes, created the look of a real downtrodden servant - which was very discordant with her youthful appearance.
And the third important fact was her yellow eyes, which is currently looking at Jonathan with real horror.
Jonathan was frozen for a second by the little child's emotive eyes, before realizing that as an adult, at least the most mature person present, he needed to take the first step. "Are you hurt-?" Only to be cut off by a childish shriek.
"PLEASE DO NOT TELL MISS SUNNY!!" The girl literally jumped up from her seat, before realizing that she had interrupted him. She looked at Jonathan with even more horror in her eyes, "DON'T TELL MISS…"
"Hush, hush, calm down." Jonathan raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture, - "I was just surprised, it's all… "
"W... Well…" The girl said slowly with broken syllables, before slowly nodding, - "I... I have to run!"
"What, wait!" Jonathan shouted to stop the girl from running away. "I'm not angry, everything is fine, I won't tell anyone or anything... And first of all, what is your name, little girl?"
"C... Cinder." The girl, looking at Jonathan with no little amount of trepidation, slowly nodded. "Y-you sure won't tell Miss Sunny?" It seems she is still wary of Jonathan.
"Of course not…" - Jonathan began to speak before a clever thought entered his mind, forcing him to nod slowly. "However, for this... Maybe you can tell me a little about this city, Cinder?"
Truly his brilliance astounded even him sometimes.