Meet the Boss

Sorting through the guild’s scraps was a tedious process, and the rewards it granted were frustratingly mundane. Of the dozens of crates, John had barely managed to pick through two, but hadn’t found anything in their disorganized contents more exotic than electrum, which he was quite excited to find until a gentle thrumming reminded him that it was just a mundane alloy of gold, silver, and trace amounts of copper. Of course, that was the silver lining to the whole affair. Most everything came inlaid with precious metals or encrusted with fine jewels. If nothing else, it was profitable.

John jammed a crowbar’s flat head into the seam between crate and lid and gave the tool a hard whack, driving it in deeper. Shifting his weight onto the lever, he pried the gap open a hair. Then, he moved over a few inches and repeated the process until he’d circled the crate and dislodged each nail. He lifted the lid's edge up as high as he could, gave it a push, and let it fall backwards and crash to the ground. This crate’s contents were just like the first two, a random jumble of armor and weapons with partial or wonky inlays, jewelry with cracked gems or melted filigree, magical contraptions with scorched components, and raw stock that had been cut off from some other piece or just cut wrong. Gingerly, John picked through the mess and sorted it into piles.

Distant footsteps heralded Daryl’s arrival. John took his phone from his inventory and checked the time. By his estimation, they still had another five or ten minutes before they needed to leave. ‘A little early to leave, but I guess it’s better safe than sorry.’

Just as his Abyssal guide entered view, John asked, “Are these crates filled with just mundane materials, or am I really unlucky?”

"Uh, well…” Daryl paused and stroked his beard. “I don’t actually know. It’s all the stuff that wasn’t worth the effort of recycling, so it’s definitely mostly mundane. But I’d assume that there’s at least some low grade magic stuff floating around in there.”

“You don’t have an inventory list of all this?”

“Technically, we have one, but it was out of date even before I got here. So, I don’t think it’s goin’ to be much help.”

“How long have you been working here?”

”Uh, I think it’s been about eleven years now.”

John pushed himself up from the crate and moved to his sorted piles. "Just give me a few minutes to fill my inventory, and I'll be ready to leave."

Daryl pointed over his shoulder to a set of stairs leading up to the overhead walkways that criss-crossed the guild hall. "Actually, Rooster wants to see you in his office."

"Can it wait till tomorrow?"

"Yeah, no. The boss was pretty clear about not letting you leave until he got a chance to talk to you. Sorry."

John began to hurry, salvaging whatever was in reach as he hurried to stuff his inventory full. "Couldn't we have done this when we got here?"

"That was the plan, but it ended up a busier day than we'd hoped." The Abyssal collected an empty crate. "Here, let me work on this while you go talk to the boss. I'll get this all collected up, and you can work through it on the ride back."

"Fine," John said as he pushed himself up. "Just, throw some arco-steel in while you're at it."

As John rushed off, Daryl said, "Will do… Oh, Wait. Hold up a sec!"

John stopped hard at the foot of the stairs. "What now?"

Daryl jogged over. "Give me your phone. I need to secure it before we leave."

"Seriously?" John pulled the phone from his pocket and slapped it into the Abyssal's hand.

Daryl shouted up the stairs as John rushed off, "At least you'll be able to send pictures now."

John rushed up the stairs and jogged back towards the guild hall’s entrance. The metal banged and clattered under heavy footfalls. As John broke past the wall dividing the prototype shop from the production floor, a few of the Abyssals below gestured towards him. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, he slowed down.

Rooster's office, and the apartment behind it, sat elevated in the guild hall’s southwestern most corner. Wide windows gave it a panoptic view of the production floor.

From outside, John could see floor to ceiling bookshelves covering the rear wall of the otherwise wood panelled room. Rows of old tomes were broken only twice. To the right, there was a door that presumably led into Rooster's apartment. In the center there was a cut out where an ornately decorated mace was mounted to the wall. Rooster sat at a desk in the center of the room.

As John approached, the elder Abyssal caught sight of him and waved him in. Retrieving a stack of paper and a pen from his ornately carved, oaken desk, Rooster said, "Shut the door and take a seat, John. We have important matters to discuss." The Abyssal placed the paper stack to the side and then tapped it twice with the tip of the pen. As he pulled his hand away, the pen hovered to one corner, landed, then remained perfectly upright and still.

"Is this—" Startled, John paused as the pen danced across the page leaving marks that wriggled incomprehensibly. "Is this going to be a long conversation? I kinda need to leave soon if I want to beat my mom home."

Rising from his seat, Rooster replied, "That depends entirely on how often you interrupt me." With a casual wave of his hand, the office door gently swung shut, and the blinds slowly descended. The wooden slats cut off all light and sound from the factory floor. Sconces mounted between each window grew brighter to compensate.

The elder Abyssal moved to the door on the rear wall, opened it, and loosed a short whistle into the next room. Floorboards creaked loudly under significant shifting mass, then softly as the unseen entity slowly padded closer. Rooster circled around to the front of the desk, and leaning against it he said, “Keep still.”

John started to ask about the sound, but hesitated. Rooster continued, "Have you revealed yourself as a late bloomer to anyone other than Daryl and I?”

“No, no one.”

"Good. It is critical that your nature as a late bloomer remains hidden. There are those in the Abyss who will want to exploit your abilities, and those that would not hesitate to eliminate a perceived threat. From here on out, you will tell no one about your nature unless given my explicit permission, understood?”

“Uh, yeah, I won’t tell anyone outside of the guild.”

“No, you will tell no one at all. Not everyone that passes through these walls can be trusted to keep silent. I cannot overstate the significant risk that that information poses to you and this guild. Have I made myself clear?”

"Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now, I’ve informed our senior members, but we’ll need to establish a cover story to mitigate suspicion from rank and file. How long have you lived in Springfield?”

“Uh, almost nine years.” As much as he wanted this conversation to end quickly,John couldn’t resist asking, “A cover story for what, exactly?"

“Our normal hiring process is fairly rigorous. They’ll need an explanation for the abnormality. Where did you live before that?”

“Homerville, for as long as I can remember. Can’t we just say I asked for a job and you were impressed with my skills?”

“No. What are your parents’ names and occupations?”

"Brenda Newman, veterinarian. Benjamin Newman —"

Movement in the darkened doorway drew John's eye. His body tensed and his blood ran cold at the sight. A wolf-like creature of unnatural size loomed in the gap and fixed a stare on John. Dark, wiry fur gave it a wild appearance. Greying fur around its muzzle marked it as an elder of its kind. Its lips pulled back, revealing yellowed teeth. A threatening rumble escaped its throat.

Rooster pointed to the ground. "Maddox, heel." The beast complied, its gaze remaining fixed on John. “Relax, he just needs to have a sniff of you before I can let him roam.”

John stuttered, “Wha-what is that?”

The guildmaster reached up to the creature’s head and began to scratch behind its ears. There was a subtle pride in his voice as he said, “Maddox here is a Cambrian dracur. Although they’re more commonly known as Welsh drakehounds.”

“Drakehound? As in, a hound for hunting drakes?”

"That's right. Though he’s a bit long in the tooth for that these days. Still, he makes for a fine guard dog." With a firm voice Rooster commanded, "Sit," and the dog obeyed without hesitation. The Abyssal commanded, "Sniff,” and the dog pressed its snout against John's torso and inhaled.

Roster said, “You leave this one alone, understood?”

The dog pulled its head back and responded with a deep, seemingly affirming huff, blasting John with hot breath.

“Good, now go back and lie down. We'll be done here soon.”

Maddox swung his head towards the guildmaster, then turned, and laid down against the office door.

The guildmaster pointed back through the door, “Maddox, go.”

The hound whined defiantly.

"Maddox—" The hound's deafening yowl drowned out the Abyssal. Splitting pain shot through John's head. He clapped his hands over his ears, but they did little to muffle the sound.

Rooster's brow furrowed. He stared Maddox down until the extended cry faded out. Then he sighed and started back towards his seat. “Ignore him. He’s just throwing a tantrum because he’s been cooped up too long.”

"Has he been locked back there the entire time I've been here?"

"Most of the day, unfortunately. I was obliged to entertain a few of the guild's more… demanding patrons this morning, and Maddox isn't much of a diplomat.” Rooster took and donned a pair of glasses from his desk. After reading over the transcript, he continued, "What is your father's profession?"

"He's deceased.”

"My condolences." To John, the response felt cold. "When did he pass?”

“I was…” John paused, “I was almost five, I think. I started kindergarten a couple months after, so a little over thirteen years ago.”

"What was his profession before he passed?"

"He was a mechanic, but he did some handyman work on the side. Actually, he used to come out here a lot for parts."

Rooster hummed an acknowledgement. "Are there any members of your extended family that are, or were, known to suffer delusions or hallucinations?"

"Not that I know of."

"Any that behaved erratically or who disappeared for long periods?"

"Supposidly, I had a great uncle that had a secret second family, but I'm not sure which one. I know he wasn't blood related if that matters."

"Right. That should be enough to construct something believable. I'll work out the details later tonight, but our best bet is to claim a distant relation between you and I, probably as a far removed nephew. It'll satisfy our ambivalent members, and the curious ones will know better than to pry."

"If you say so." John slowly began to stand. "Can I go now?"

"If you're in that great a hurry, you certainly may. We can discuss your thaumic star another day."

John sat back down. "I could probably spare a few more minutes."

"I've reached out to a handful of former associates in regards to the thaumic star. The few that have gotten back to me didn't recognize the name, and the description you provided wasn't sufficient clarification. Daryl informed me that the star is no longer whole. I presume you still have the remains, correct?"

John pulled a pair of crystalline shards and a small vial of purplish dust from his inventory and placed them on the desk. "Yeah, this is all that's left of it. I do have more of the dust, though."

Rooster picked up one of the shards, a long and twisted slice divided into blue and red lobes and held it up to the light. After a few moments of silence, the shard began to ring with an electric hum. A faint light appeared within the shard.

"Your message mentioned that the crystal has historically been used as a battery. I assume that scrying spell of yours told you as much, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Was there any indication of who used it or in what part of the world?"

"Not really. Observe just said ancient artificers used it. What counts as ancient in the Abyss?"

"Son, your guess would be as good as mine." Rooster placed the shard down and collected its sibling, a stout crystalline chunk, cloudy white and sparsely streaked with a deep, verdant green. He raised it to the light. "But, if I had to hazard a guess, I'd say it describes anything prior to the Bronze Age collapse. I'll inform my associates, but given its apparent age, I'm inclined to think that it's unlikely that we'll find any record of it."

John leaned forward. "Why not? If it’s that old, there should be some record of it."

"The Abyss is more… fragmented than the mundane world. There are only a handful of organizations that could claim to possess a complete record of all magical materials, and even they would admit that there are significant gaps in their knowledge. The core problem is that magic, and the things it creates, is ever changing. Given time, some things fade away entirely."

"So, it's possible that these stars have just gone extinct."

"It's likely. Though, they may generate in an area so remote that they've gone unnoticed. There are still uncontacted tribes in the mundane world. The same is almost certainly true of the Abyss."

John slumped back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. "So, my barriers may be the only way to get more of them."

"They may be. Was the star the only thing you brought back?"

"No, I brought back some arcano steel and a bunch of monster parts, like scales, claws, and stuff. Would that help with tracking down the star?"

"You've been rather dogged about this star. That you aren't similarly curious about the rest, leads me to believe that you've omitted something."

John hesitated to respond. "Right before the star shattered, it was glowing and casting colored lights all over the room. Then there was a pulse when it finally shattered, and my mana circuits started to glow."

Rooster looked back at John. Maybe it was just John’s imagination, but the guildmaster’s normally stern appearance seemed grimmer.

John continued, "When I tried to open a barrier, I couldn't. The muscles in my arm just started contracting, and it felt like they were on fire. Then I saw myself in a mirror. My eyes were glowing, and…" The memory caused both his stomach and subconscious to churn. "It felt like the world was flipping upside down. I just couldn't do anything until it wore off."

"And now, you want to know what it has done to you."

John nodded. "I know it did something to my 'esoteric acuity' and that that 'fortifies my mana pathways', but I don't know what else it might have done. My system doesn't always tell me everything. Daryl just explained illusory matter to me, and as soon as he did, it updated the descriptions for half the materials in my inventory."

The elder Abyssal leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and began to stroke his bare chin. "I've heard of similar phenomena. Some mages indulge in certain mind altering substances or rituals to expand their mind and deepen their sense of mana. Even when those attempts are successful, there are usually side effects."

"Should I be worried?"

Rooster remained silent for a while. John’s unease grew with each passing moment. When the guildmaster’s response finally came, it was firm but not comforting, "No. For now, just be mindful of any changes. When you find another, bring it to me. We'll monitor the changes as they happen, if you're inclined to shatter another."

"Ok, that sounds like a good plan."

An impatient whine escaped Maddox.

"Oh, hush," the elder Abyssal chided, "a few more minutes won't kill you."

"Uh, actually, I probably should have left already. Can I get those back?" John pointed at the shards and the vial of dust.

Rooster gave back the shards and the vial of dust. With a wave of his hand, the blinds began to rise. As Maddox leapt to his feet, the office door gently swung open, and the massive hound bolted through it. The clatter of heavy paws against metal rang with every step.

John quickly collected his thaumic materials and said, "Thanks, umm… Uncle Kurtis?"

"Rooster will suffice." The elder Abyssal waved him off.

As John ran to catch his ride, his feet pounding on the metal gangway, he pulled out his phone and checked the time. They were late, by a good ten minutes. His mother should be leaving work soon, but if they hurried and were just a little bit lucky, they just might beat her home.