09 — New Gear, Old Favorites

09 — New Gear, Old Favorites

Three months passed. Three uneventful months of nothing but the labyrinth, training with the boys at the Adventurer’s Guild, and purifying at “barbeques” (disguised as special drills).

The practice of said barbeques had spread throughout the other regiments on account of the Valkyries letting my meat-sanitizing abilities slip to Catherine. On the bright side, it helped to replace the fear I’d felt for non-labyrinthian monsters with a sort of respect. Even better, knights weren’t apt to stick nicknames on me like the adventurers were. I was sure the adventurers would have loved to christen us something like “the Munch Bunch” had they known about the new tradition.

In any case, my relationship with the knights was starting to take a turn for the better, my team was coming together, and more of them were managing to stomach their Substance X without seeing stars.

And then the day came when Mardan and Muneller finally completed my healing guidelines. The rules were ready at last.

Her Holiness called me to her chambers to discuss the matter. “We shall officially announce them once you have turned twenty. What say you to that?”

“They’re in your hands. I’ve already confirmed that everything’s in order with the archbishops, so I’ll leave it up to you.”

I wished we could have made them official immediately, but I was nothing to the healers, their families, or the bribed guild staff, who would all object.

“Very well. As I recall, I once requested that you study the administrative side of our guilds and clinics. I would again urge you to do so.”

“Administrative?” It almost sounded like she wanted me to start thinking about the possibility of running a clinic myself.

“Indeed. Your rules for the healing practice are certain to incite rebellion among those who once subsisted on injustice. And you are an S-rank healer. For you to vanquish evil and aid the righteous is my only hope. Knowledge will serve you well in that pursuit.”

“Wouldn’t my interference infringe on their authority?”

“Remember, Luciel, you answer only to me. I will hear your reports and deliver my judgment personally.”

“Understood. I won’t shame the S-rank name.”

“Well said. I will have orders for you shortly. Be ready to act on them.”

“Yes, Your Holiness.”

I ran into Catherine just outside the chamber as I left. I hadn’t seen her much beyond the exercises the knights held.

“Hey there, Catherine. Here to see Her Holiness?”

“Nope, just you,” she said with a smile that nearly made me flinch. These days, upturned lips on Catherine usually meant the knights were about to be in for it. This time, however, her smile was warm. More like the Cattleya I remembered.

“Do you need something?”

“Remember Grand and Trett?”

“Of course. Does that mean what I think it means?”

She beamed even more brightly. “Yep. I just received notice that your gear’s all done. If you have time, shall we stop by the blacksmith’s?”

“Absolutely!”

I’d stashed that memory in a corner of my brain for the last three months, where it had been gathering dust until now. Gear made from the scales and fangs of the Holy Dragon. Just for me. I could barely contain my excitement.

“I have some business with those two myself.”

“Oh?”

“And don’t worry about grabbing your team. I’ll be your escort today.”

Chills ran down my spine. I was one wrong move away from another night as the designated nondrinker.

“Sure, but can I give the guys an update first?”

“Of course.”

I stopped by my room and passed my plans on to Piaza, who’d been standing by for me outside. Then Catherine and I left for the blacksmith.

“Notice anything different about the Church lately?” Catherine asked.

“Yeah, actually. It seems like the knights’ training has gotten tougher, and they don’t hate me as much anymore.”

“I think that’s because your team takes the brunt of it now,” she smirked.

“Pretty much.”

These past several days had really been some of the most peaceful I’d known since coming to HQ. The lack of glares worked wonders for the soul.

“Okay, but I meant ‘different’ as in strange. Like anything that just feels off.”

“Nothing in particular. Not that I’d really notice, though. Who knows, maybe I’m being poisoned and just can’t tell because I’m resistant.” Catherine gaped at me. “Please don’t look at me like that.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand you. Just please try to be considerate of your team.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Not that they had much to worry about, since the healers could use curing magic just fine and Palaragus always had herbs on hand.

We eventually reached the smithy. An employee spotted us and ran into the back, then Grand and Trett came out soon after.

“Took your time, didn’t you?” Grand grunted. “That Cattleya with you? Always a pleasure.”

“Ohhh, it’s been so long I was scared you’d forgotten all about us,” Trett whimpered.

“Sorry, I’ve been so caught up with managing my team,” I said. “It’s my first time leading others, so learning the ropes has been a little rough.”

“Honest words.”

“Truthful too.”

“I would just love to stand around and mingle,” the artificer interjected, “but why don’t we all scoot inside?”

“Right you are,” the dwarf replied.

The men had all but taken over the shop for their own purposes. The actual owner followed behind them and went about the place helping with odds and ends, completely willingly, watching and absorbing all he could from the two masters. I admired his open-mindedness, and it drove home yet again just how extraordinary these craftsmen were.

We were escorted through the shop and into a room, where I froze at the door. Their creations, my new equipment, blew my expectations out of the water. I could scarcely wrap my feeble mind around the sight. Vain attempts to express my feelings in words ran through my head as I rubbed my eyes before taking a second glance.

I had entrusted my valuable materials to Grand and Trett because the pope and Catherine trusted them. Because I’d known they’d sit in my magic bag for an eternity otherwise. Because I sensed that the two men had great pride in their work. And now that the job was done, my emotions were...indescribable.

They waved for me to come closer.

“Well? Marvelous, isn’t it?” Trett said, glowing. “It protects against miasma, nullifies magic, makes you harder to sense, and even regulates temperature! You won’t have any trouble against blades or spells with this, oh no.”

“Speechless, eh?” Grand chuckled. “This here hardens when infused with magical energy. Works like a booster for spells too. Funnel magic through it, and it’ll give you a bit o’ oomph, no extra cost.”

Satisfied grins of a job well done spread across their faces while I, on the other hand, was still stunned, frozen, jaw on the floor. Three months ago, I’d been fondled, made to swing swords around, sized up, interrogated about my fighting style, put through all manner of tests and trials. That could not be changed. No matter how many times I blinked, the fruits of my suffering never changed.

I took a few deep breaths, then turned to Grand. “I mean no disrespect, but didn’t I ask for a sword?”

“Ain’t it a beaut?”

The “beaut” was an ornate staff. Maybe I wasn’t as resistant to poison as I thought, because I had to be drugged and hallucinating right now.

I looked at Trett. “And what was the point of all that touching you did when you didn’t even make me armor? Those are just plain old clothes.”

I was so utterly baffled that I had half a mind to try and fix whatever was wrong with these two with an Extra Heal or Purification spell. They looked at each other, then burst out laughing.

“Fooled you, didn’t it?” Grand took the staff. “This is no walkin’ cane. Some old swordsman came up with this trick to carry weapons where you normally can’t take ’em. Just a bit of a flick here and...”

The staff suddenly transformed into a blade.

“What the—?!”

It happened so quickly and naturally that I doubted whether it had ever been a staff at all. I’d seen hidden blades, trick swords, stuff like that in books in my past life, but those had used a mechanism of some kind to hide the weapon. Not this one. It had literally morphed into a sword, like an illusion breaking.

“How’s that, eh? The dragon here at the handle’s not just for decoration.” The blacksmith marveled at his creation like a whimsical young boy. Living in a world of magic and fantasy didn’t mean we couldn’t be amazed by cool tricks and dragons.

“So, I bet these clothes have something up their sleeves too,” I said to Trett. “What’s the gimmick? Do they change into armor?”

“Oh-ho, now you’re just being silly. I just thought you could use something a little less bulky, healer boy. They are a good deal stronger than any armor you have now, for the record.”

“They’re stronger than armor?! Metal armor?!”

“I just couldn’t help myself. Oh, I’ve never worked with such interesting material before. In more ways than one,” Trett purred, fidgeting nervously. “I really enjoyed feeling you up.”

Awesome. Didn’t need to hear that. Moving on.

I hadn’t believed he was really from a family of legendary crafters at first, but the work spoke for itself. I took the sword and copied Grand, morphing it into a blade and back again several times while my heart screamed with joy. I’d always had a soft spot for swords that could shapeshift like this. Nothing was cooler than seeing the dragon pattern glow and the cane transform. Nothing. I’d have kept playing with it if Trett hadn’t interrupted me.

“Aww, Luciel, won’t you try on the clothes I made for you?”

“I-I got it! I’ll put them on, just stop trying to sneak up behind me!” I shuddered.

Everyone looked bored after watching me mess around with the sword, so I quickly got to changing. I took off the armor I’d obtained on the fortieth floor of the labyrinth and slipped into the weave of Holy Dragon scales. I instantly felt strangely protected.

“How do I look?” I asked.

“Dashing!” Trett replied. “Oh-ho, your safety is in good hands now!”

I hated that phrasing, so I turned to Catherine, the honest one.

“He’s right. You look dignified,” she said. “Throw on your robe, and you’ll really start to fit the S-rank healer image. You might even stop being mistaken for a knight.”

I responded with a shy smile. I was certainly on the bulkier side of body shapes compared to most healers.

“Why don’t we call your new staff...” Grand rubbed his chin. “The Illusion Staff.”

A little uncreative, I thought.

“Then it’s the Illusion Sword while in blade form?”

“That’s the idea. Keep it in staff form while you’re healin’ and all that, and no one’ll take you for nothin’ but a regular healer.”

“It’s lovely,” Trett said. “Ah, I promised you something else, didn’t I, Luciel?”

The fox-man dug around in his magic satchel and pulled out a long mirror. It took me a moment to realize what it was.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“Yes, sir! This transformation dresser may look like just any old mirror, but it’ll handle all your fashion organization needs! Your new outfit took a tad more time than expected, so I asked a friend to bring it over.”

“And this is mine?”

“All yours. I keep my promises.”

“Wow, I can’t thank you enough!”

“Your happy face is all the thanks I need. Now, if you’ll imbue it with your magic to register yourself...”

“We did some fine work,” Grand remarked. “Nothin’ beats gettin’ paid for doing what you love. Gimme a shout next time you get your hands on any worthwhile materials or you need your gear tweaked. I’ll make sure my lackeys know who you are.”

“Same here,” Trett said. “And I’ll send word when I get something working for that magic item you mentioned. Stop by if you ever visit our little town, won’t you? I’ll always be waiting.”

My hair stood on end and chills ran down my back, but my honed business acumen held my smile firm.

Not long after, the two of them departed the Holy City. The other craftsmen were sad to see them go. I promised Grand that I’d have that drink with Brod the next time we met, and Trett mentioned he’d have my magic item delivered to the smithy they’d been using, much to the owner’s delight.

On the way back to Headquarters, something nagged at me.

“Say, Catherine, Grand mentioned getting paid. How much was it?”

The smile on her face clearly meant that it hadn’t been cheap.

“Sometimes ignorance is bliss, Luciel. Considering the discounts, and the fact that we supplied the materials, I suppose I’d put it at the price of every single magic stone you brought back from the labyrinth combined.”

“Every single one, huh?”

Whatever that meant. I didn’t know the individual value of those gems. I would someday, but today was not that day.

I got back to my room, told Jord to dismiss the team, and started playing with my new transformation dresser.

“Holy crap! What’s this do? Holy crap! I really need to learn some new words, but holy crap!”

My excited shouts leaked out into the hallway. It couldn’t register my underwear, but I was positively amazed by the strange mechanism that allowed the mirror to remember what I was wearing. Could anyone blame me? It was like saving gear sets or outfits in a video game.

It worked simply enough. The dresser’s owner needed only to touch their hand to the mirror, which then displayed numbers with the options to save an outfit, delete a preset, or shift into one. Only ten sets could be saved at a time, but that made it no less handy for storing clothes like a magic bag.

Someone start mass-producing this so I can use it as a gift for someone!

With technology like this, cameras couldn’t have been that far off. I was sure that Trett would be interested in the idea.

“I’ll make these Holy Dragon clothes and my robe the default and just wear my armor over it.”

Slowly, my excitement waned as I came to notice a critical issue.

“I only have three sets saved in here.”

I’d pretty much worn the same clothes since my first day in the labyrinth. With cleansing magic, hygiene was such a non-issue that it had never even crossed my mind to change, plus my robe kept anything from being torn apart. Well, there had been that little episode where I’d been routinely dismembered by the fourth boss. I’d had to shop for new clothes after that. Was it sanitary having never changed my underwear? Sure it was. I had Purification. But this was bound to be one slippery slope if left unchecked.

That one worry snowballed, and all of a sudden I was filled with all sorts of concerns. I wasn’t even remotely prepared to travel. Nearly all the clothes I’d been given back in Merratoni had been ruined during my training with Brod, so all I had left was the stuff I’d bought while out with Nanaella. There was my Church-issued robe and the armor I’d received, but I hadn’t gotten any other real clothing until today. The only armor set I even had to save in the dresser was the one I’d gotten on the fortieth floor.

Hold the phone—my hair was long. I’d never had much of a beard, so I didn’t have to bother with that, but I hadn’t cut my hair once since coming to HQ. I’d just been leaving it tied up all this time and hadn’t really noticed it since my robe regulated temperature so well. It never made me feel overheated.

Maybe this calls for a ceremonial cutting of the ponytail.

From there my thoughts only continued to spiral out of control. One thing led to another, and suddenly I was thinking about how I hadn’t cooked a single thing since reincarnating. Gulgar had handled my meals in Merratoni, and the dining hall ladies took care of me here. Or I went to restaurants. All I did at the barbeques was purify the meat. I felt an urge to hit the stove, but I’d need to get my hands on some cooking tools first.

Besides food and clothing, the third necessity for survival was shelter, and that was no problem. As long as I had my angel’s pillow and wasn’t in immediate danger, I could get by anywhere. Should something happen to it, though, I’d be out of luck and short on sleep. If I could get any rest in the carriage we’d be traveling in, that is.

Speaking of carriages, I had to consider Forêt Noire as well (who I was kind of assuming I’d be taking along at this point). I was going to start traveling the world once I turned twenty. That was just over a year from now. The time would fly in the blink of an eye. I was supposed to be an S-rank healer, and I didn’t even know the first thing about clinics.

Please send me to a place I don’t actually need to fix, I prayed. Or better yet, what if I just became a wandering healer? On second thought, that was bound to cause problems, much like many of the things I did. I was like a walking landmine.

The more I thought about everything, the harder it was to stop. Just when it was becoming too much to bear, I remembered an old forgotten habit of mine.

“I might be the biggest mess of a human right now, but...” I pulled out some parchment from my bag and began to write out a list of worries and how best to solve them. I used to take notes compulsively, but even the toughest habits can be broken, given a few years.

“I’ve gotta keep it together. Being reincarnated is no excuse for ignoring what I learned in my last life.”

Two little things I’d learned during my first year of work back on Earth were to always have a notebook on hand to jot things down in, and to always be polite. Those meager habits were just that—meager, but crucial to one’s personal growth.

This world had no newspapers, no television or news cycles, so I’d gotten swept up in its comparatively slow pace and forgotten. I knew I wasn’t the brightest bulb, but how could I not have remembered?

I took a deep breath. I could criticize myself all I wanted, and there was a time and place for that, but it wasn’t here or now. Now was the time to move forward.

Information was at the top of the list of necessities for my upcoming travels. I needed to learn how guilds and clinics operated, and get a better understanding of the state of the two institutions, and the best place to hear the latest rumors was the Adventurer’s Guild.

“Man, and I just got back. I’ll need an escort.”

I opened my door to leave and saw Jord conveniently approaching.

“Hey, Jord, I was just about to stop by the Adventurer’s Guild and maybe do some shopping after. Want to tag along?”

“I’m all for shopping, but didn’t you just go out with Catherine?” he asked.

“I thought of something I need last minute, that’s all.”

“You? Going out for something other than food? Weird.” He laughed as we set out.

At the guildhall, we were met with a flood of wounded adventurers.

“What do we do about this, sir?” Jord asked.

“We make today Saint Weirdo’s Day and heal them. Let’s see what’s going on with Grantz first.”

“I don’t know if we have the time. Some of those injuries look deep.”

“You’re right. Could you go find him for me?”

“On it.”

I watched him dash to the dining hall and prepared to heal everyone I could. The Blessing of the Divine Healer made my magic something else. My Heal spells didn’t just stop the bleeding and restore HP anymore; now they could also repair cartilage and bone. In fact, the guild had built up an odd surplus of walking canes, left behind by elderly patients who’d made it out better than they’d come in. And this time I had the Illusion Staff to make my spells even stronger. By how much, I couldn’t possibly begin to guess.

I urged everyone to take the injured downstairs as I made my way there myself.

“Okay, I’m going to begin healing, everyone. As always, I can’t restore lost blood, so please be cautious and treat your lives carefully.” Of course, Extra Heal could regenerate blood without issue, but my ability to use that spell was still a well-kept secret.

I cast Area High Heal over the crowd until everyone was healthy again, but without the boost from my staff. That experiment would have to wait. Then I went to the dining hall and let Grantz know that everyone was safe.

“So, whaddaya need this time, Saint Weirdo, sir? Just name it,” the guildmaster said.

“‘Saint Weirdo’ is bad enough, guildmaster. You don’t need to add the ‘sir.’ Really.”

Grantz had really taken to that habit lately. My complaints were likely in vain, though. The nickname was going nowhere without another one to take its place.

“Why don’t you stop callin’ me ‘guildmaster,’ ya grouch? Anyway, what’d you need, eh?”

“I wanted to ask where adventurers get their hair cut. I know you’ve got that beard and all, but where does everyone else get trimmed?”

The pity in his gaze was palpable. “Can’t blame ya for not knowin’ things, I guess. ’Specially not a fella with a life as harsh as yours. Well, you’ll find magic razors at magic shops. Some folks use plain knives, but I’d avoid ’em if ya don’t know what you’re doin’.”

“Yeah, I don’t really trust myself, but I guess I could just use Heal if I got cut.”

“True enough. You can get scissors for your hair at any old smithy or general store. Ya never heard of a salon before?”

Wow, I was pretty ignorant, huh? Good to know there were barbers here. But letting someone put sharp objects that close to my face was a little scary, so I put a pin in that option.

“Need ta know anything else?” Grantz continued. “I’ll teach ya everything you wanna know.”

“Yeah, I’ve got another question. Why is Jord passed out?”

“Gave ’im the undiluted stuff you drink. It happens.”

“Let me guess, my tongue’s ‘defective’ because it doesn’t happen to me?”

“Er, any other questions? Hit me.”

“Well...”

I had Grantz tell me where to pick up seasonings, vegetables, and meats for cooking. Seeing my diligent note-taking, he offered me his own notebook filled with well-practiced recipes and processes to copy. And that would’ve been more than enough, but then he offered to teach me more if I ever felt like learning, wrote me a letter of introduction to his favorite metalworker to buy knives and such from, and then ultimately decided to host a cooking class.

Milty eventually showed up and asked to join in, which Grantz timidly accepted. Over time, rumors of the gruff guildmaster and his wholesome lessons would slowly spread until he came to be known as The Iron Chef with the Silk Heart.

Meanwhile, Jord remained unconscious.

“Oh, Milty, I’m looking for clothing stores where I can find stuff that says, ‘I’m modest, but I know how to dress well.’ You know, so I don’t look haggard in front of foreign nobles or something.”

“I think I know what you mean?” the vice guildmaster replied. “I recommend you go with a girl, though. I know Jord’s your valet, but people will start thinking you swing that way if you take him shopping for clothes.”

“Why would they think that? We’re just friends.”

“You’re his superior, aren’t you?”

“Yeah?”

“Then you’re not friends.”

“You...have a point. I’ll ask some girls I know.”

“A wise decision.”

Jord continued to be comatose while I considered my options for who to invite. How I wished Nanaella or Monica were here. Catherine, Lumina, and the Valkyries came to mind, but they didn’t strike me as the types to bother themselves with fashion. At any rate, Grantz’s cooking lessons had crossed one worry off my list.

For poor Jord’s sake, I brought us back to HQ and went to the stables for a bit of animal therapy to soothe my thoughts. And then the incredible happened. A four-year-old stallion named Malto, with a penchant for biting my head, finally let me ride him. For a few seconds. But hey, progress.

“They’re getting used to you,” was all Yanbath had to say.

I made it a goal of mine to earn the privilege of riding every last horse in the stable before I had to leave the city. Still, I couldn’t see myself setting out with anyone but Forêt, so I had to remember to bring that up with Her Holiness.

Forêt seemed happy with the plan.