Raised as a Magus, I had certain thoughts.
They sort of clashed with my current mentality. I can't say that everything that had been ingrained in me was well received by my new perspective on life. Even with my parents still being loving and caring by Magus standards, they were still themselves, each a Magus.
Using Magecraft haphazardly was a big sort of social taboo.
Not in the thought of using it outside or in public. But to use it 'wastefully' for matters of little importance.
Yet, here I was now, breaking that ingrained 'rule.'
I think I stopped caring there, with my 'new' self added onto everything.
Perhaps, I'm now much more self-serving and less caring about Magi societal expectations. That's not to say that I lack my pride as a Magus and now head of my family. I certainly still retained those two things in spades.
As odd as that was to consider too. It slotted into place quite easily, and I can't say I dislike it. Taking pride in both myself and my legacy was a new sort of feeling that wasn't unwelcome.
I looked to my side to see Lancer. Her expression was blank, as was normal, but if my mind wasn't playing tricks on me, I think I could see the expectations in her eyes.
The very, very subtle hint of anticipation and happiness.
I was using Magecraft again to 'hide' our presence. Well, a Mystic Code, but at the end of the day, it's the same thing, really.
My parents would have been annoyed that I had been using it for something so mundane.
They wouldn't balk at me hiding myself; that was a given considering that I was perhaps one of the most famous entities on the planet at this point in time.
No, it's because I decided I wanted some comfort food, and here we are.
I don't know what led me to make this decision, but I felt my stress levels hadn't really been in a good place even after the meeting with the PRT went well.
Logically, I could have ordered takeout from somewhere; I could have stopped at a plethora of other places and gotten takeaway.
Why am I here at Fugly Bobs?
It was my first time. Despite everyone saying it's a sort of staple of Brockton Bay's restaurants—not always in a good way—I never had the desire to come before.
Maybe I just wanted to experience it once because of how famous it was in my previous life? All literature adapted from this world tended to emphasize this place at some point in time.
It was…lackluster, I suppose.
It was popular, though, as well.
We could only find a table outside, and it was one of those 'game tables' that had a built-on chessboard and plastic chess pieces in little grooves built into the table that you could take out to play with.
There was a checkers table behind us occupied by a family that sounded like they were having fun.
I saw Lancer glance at the children playing with it curiously.
Uncle Richard came after a few moments, carrying a few trays with him.
He politely offered to get the food when it was ready.
The portions were large.
Of course that wasn't even taking into consideration the infamous 'Challenger' meal, where if you finished it, it was free.
I'm one hundred percent sure that Lancer could finish it easily, but I would rather the restaurant not be making a big deal about our presence when I was putting in the effort to be incognito at the moment.
Regardless, it was still an obscene amount of food.
American portions.
"Grease-filled, artery-clogging goodness. My doctor will be quite unhappy during my next appointment regarding my blood pressure." Uncle Richard said humorously as he sat down and put our food in front of us.
He wasn't wrong; it wasn't a good burger that you would find at a 'proper' restaurant. But taking the first bite, it hit the perfect spot.
All the bad things that make food unhealthy.
Lancer as well; she looked very happy with her meal.
I let out a content sigh after a few bites, already feeling bloated as I took a drink of my water. Despite my desire to fill myself to the brim with the most unhealthy greasy food I could manage, I wasn't a big fan of soda.
Every now and then, I suppose.
But I preferred water, or coffee if it was needed.
I managed to shove a few fries into my mouth before my stomach began to disagree with the idea of any more food.
Seeing Artoria enjoying hers so much, I put the remaining fries of mine onto her tray. She shot me what I think was a happy glance as she continued to eat at her own crisp pace.
My uncle was the same; he probably only got about halfway through his meal before pushing it to the side.
He was always a bit pudgy, but I think that was more of a beer belly rather than overindulgence in food.
He started grabbing the chess pieces and putting them on the board in front of us and gestured silently to me as I rolled my eyes and obliged.
I made the first move, moving my king's pawn two spaces forward as he mirrored.
"You still have a lot on your mind, Frederick." My uncle stated, taking one of my pawns with one of his own.
"I think that's an understandable sentiment, considering everything that's happening at the moment." "I," I stated, moving my knight forward, threatening a different pawn of his. "At the moment, I'm wondering if I made the right choice in how we went about the PRT thing. Despite my lack of fear towards them, I'm more than aware of how much of a thorn in my side they can become."
"Do you think you handled it wrong?" He questioned it pointedly.
"It's hard to say." I admitted. "I don't think I was particularly clever. I'm not arrogant enough to believe myself some masterful tactician because I abused knowledge they didn't know I had and managed to lead them by the nose."
He hummed, taking a bishop of mine. "And what was your end goal?"
"Time." I said bluntly, taking a knight of his with one of my knights. "Objectively, what I did was perhaps stupid. I was bullshitting pretty heavily; they knew I was bullshitting. They just couldn't call me out on it. And I was wagering that they wouldn't press me about the whole 'destroying evidence' thing."
"And why do you believe that to be the case?" He asked, moving his rook across the board, threatening my queen.
"They wouldn't waste the opportunity to come after me with something so flimsy." I paused, looking at the board. "It'll be added to my file that they're building, no doubt. But if that's all they had when they arrested me and put me in front of a judge or jury…well, I wouldn't worry with you in my corner there."
My uncle chuckled. "That's true."
"So, their gun was full of blanks. Now, they have me on record denying everything with 'evidence' to back up my denial. Obviously, they're not stupid enough to buy what I was selling, but they simply can't do anything about it for the moment. That was the whole point; I just wanted them off my back for now. That, and going on record denying being a 'wizard' in their terms, they can't publicly acknowledge it either without being sued. Plausible deniability is rather important just as well."
That, and it would limit how much they could harass me in the future.
"Check." He stated, taking another of my pawns with his queen and putting it in line with my king. "Then it sounds like you achieved your goal, did you not?"
"Did I?" I asked him, moving my queen in front of his.
He sacrificed his queen to take mine. "Frederick, I could sit here and tell you everything you did right or wrong, but at the end of the day, it's the choice you decided on that you felt was in your own best interest."
I flicked my king over, seeing that he got me in checkmate. "Maybe I just want someone to tell me that I'm doing the right thing."
"Don't we all." He grabbed a napkin, wiping his lips. "I'll leave my car for you; I already called a second. I'll be heading out to deal with some other matters while I'm here. Be sure to call me if you get into more trouble. Oh, and Miss Ectorius's identity is nearly finished; I'll send you the final paperwork soon."
I wasn't going to tell him to stay just so I would feel less anxious about this whole mess. I knew that he had his own issues he needed to deal with. Someone in his position not being on a call during this whole thing probably set him back hours of work.
And I couldn't use him as a crutch.
"I like him." Lancer spoke up as she swallowed. "He reminds me of a few stewards I had dealt with in the past. They were a selfish but content group."
"Is that good or bad?" I asked her.
She hummed for a moment. "Neither good nor bad. They were simply people who prioritized their own desires over those of others. But in doing so, they took care of the peasants under them. I much prefer the selfish type over those who scheme and seek things beyond their grasp because their greed blinds them."
"Better the type who wants to keep what they have rather than the type who is never satisfied with what they have." I understood what she was saying.
I suppose Uncle Richard did fall into the former.
Being selfish wasn't necessarily a bad thing.
It was a normal human trait, I think. People prioritized themselves in day-to-day activities. That's simply how it was.
"The food in this era is much better than mine." She finished her plate while I was lost in thought. "I very much enjoy it."
My lips twitched a little as I held back a laugh. "Well, I'm more than happy to help you experience it all."
She smiled.
She doesn't smile often.
Or if it does, it seems like a sort of placating one, like she was intentionally going through the motions.
'This is the proper moment to smile in response to the conversation to relay my emotional state,' sort of deal.
I genuinely felt like this one came out subconsciously.
And goddamn, was it so absolutely beautiful that it made it hard to appreciate.
"I have used the computer device and seen many different foods that I wish to partake in." I swear, I think I saw her eyes sparkle as she said that.
I knew she was using the computer too; I wasn't against that at all. It was a good method for her to learn about the modern world. But maybe I was just surprised that this is what she found its best use for.
As far as desires go, wanting to taste a variety of food was…..very human.
I couldn't even say I didn't share a sentiment. I wasn't a glutton like I would say she was, but who doesn't like good food?
"Master, you appear unwell still." Lancer commented, her expression turning to the usual blankness.
I waved it off. "I'll be fine, just dealing with the stress."
There was not much I could do but bear with it.
"I will help you alleviate your stress when we return." She said emotionlessly.
I blinked. "Pardon?"
"I believe I am capable of assisting you, but I apologize if I am inexperienced. Guinevere often assisted me during the stresses of rulership. I shall do the same for you." She said rather confidently.
I swallowed a little.
My brain was trying very hard not to jump to certain conclusions here. "If you don't mind me asking, what do you mean by that?"
"I will draw you a warm bath." She said it plainly as I let out an internal sigh of relief. "And I will assist you just as Guinevere did for me. She was adept at washing my back for me, and I found relief in it." She finished, nodding to herself.
…I don't think she even realizes that she's adding to my stress levels right about now.
I let out a long sigh.
I honestly can't tell if she's still doing this on purpose or not.
[Line Break]
I used a towel to scrub my hair dry as I stepped out of the bathroom.
Thankfully, it only took a brief moment to explain to Lancer how her proposition appeared to someone else.
It was only slightly awkward.
I grabbed a few supplies I needed, then headed out into the living room, where I saw Lancer with the TV on while I took the table in the adjacent room but was still in clear sight of the television.
The image shifted, and he looked up just in time to see his own bloodied face frozen on screen, glowing lines beneath his skin outlined in bright red circles.
MAGIC EXPERT BREAKS DOWN WINSLOW FOOTAGE
I exhaled slowly.
Why is my life such suffering? I mentally braced myself for what I was about to hear.
The anchor smiled professionally at the camera. "With us tonight is Doctor Harold Whitcombe, author of The Hidden Arcanum. Doctor Whitcombe specializes in magical phenomena and pre-modern occult traditions."
Whitcombe nodded gravely, adjusting his glasses.
"Thank you for having me," he said. "This is a fascinating case."
The anchor gestured toward the paused footage. "You've reviewed the video extensively. What are we actually seeing when Frederick Verde fights this villain?"
Whitcombe leaned forward, steepling his fingers.
"Well, first and foremost, it's important to understand that magic operates on vibration."
I closed his eyes because I knew one of two things was going to happen. Either, by some cosmic joke, he was actually an expert and I was fucked. Or, in the more likely case, he was going to say some incredibly stupid things.
Either way, I knew it would give me an aneurysm.
"In ancient arcane science," Whitcombe continued, "spells are essentially frequency alignments. When someone casts magic, they're tuning reality, much like a radio."
The screen zoomed in on some of my spell chants.
"You can clearly see him engaging his spell matrix," Whitcombe said confidently. "That chanting is activating his ley resonance."
I opened my eyes again, staring.
"My what?" I said quietly.
"Notice the glowing runic veins beneath his skin," Whitcombe went on. "Those are mana channels. Extremely rare. Most practitioners can't externalize mana like that without crystalline foci."
The anchor nodded along. "So he's… advanced?"
"Oh, extraordinarily," Whitcombe said. "This young man is clearly a high-tier thaumaturge. Possibly even a warlock-class caster."
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
Whitcombe gestured toward the footage of the Dead Apostle regenerating.
"And his opponent appears to be a blood-based entity. Likely a hemivore. Possibly summoned."
Summoned.
I let out a slow breath through my teeth.
"The way it reforms its body suggests dark alchemy," Whitcombe continued. "Probably fueled by corrupted ether."
The anchor frowned slightly. "Ether?"
"Yes," Whitcombe said without hesitation. "Raw magical exhaust. Very dangerous."
The footage cut to me striking the creature with reinforced strikes.
"Now here's where it gets interesting," Whitcombe said. "You'll notice Mr. Verde doesn't use a staff or wand. That tells us he's internalized his grimoire."
I stared at the screen incredulously, completely forgetting what I was going to do in this moment.
"Which is incredibly risky," Whitcombe added. "Without a containment sigil, spell backlash can cause arcane burnout, soul fracturing, or spontaneous possession."
Lancer tilted her head slightly.
"There is something odd about him," she observed.
"Is it that he's an absolute loon?" I asked her.
"No, it's something else." She said softly.
Huh.
The anchor leaned forward. "Some critics say this wasn't magic at all, but a parahuman ability."
Whitcombe smiled indulgently.
"That's a very modern misunderstanding," he said. "People want neat labels. But magic predates the parahuman phenomenon by millennia."
He tapped the screen.
"You don't get incantations, glowing glyphs, and blood sacrifices from a simple Parahuman power."
"And the Church figures who arrived afterward?" the anchor asked.
Whitcombe nodded sagely.
"Ah yes. That's classic arcane containment protocol. When a mage exceeds acceptable thaumic output, religious orders step in to enforce equilibrium."
"So they were… regulating him?" she asked.
"Exactly," Whitcombe said. "Think of it as magical OSHA."
It was like a train wreck; I just couldn't look away no matter how much it hurt my brain to keep watching like this.
"…Magical OSHA," he repeated.
Whitcombe leaned back, clearly satisfied.
"In short, this wasn't a random event. This was a trained spellcaster operating outside sanctioned arcane oversight. Dangerous, yes—but not unprecedented."
The anchor turned back to the camera. "Doctor Whitcombe, thank you for helping us understand this complex situation."
"My pleasure," he said warmly.
It cut to commercial, and I failed to find words for how much what just happened had hurt my soul—my pride and everything in between.
"He is a fake." Lancer spoke up.
"I got that." I said dryly.
"Nay, I mean to say, he is faking his false words."
I blinked as I registered what she said as realization set in. "He's a plant. He's intentionally providing false context." I got up and walked over, grabbing the remote to use it to rewind to previous parts. I clicked my tongue, as there was a frame where you could vaguely see a cross necklace peeking out from his shirt.
"The Church." I tossed the remote back onto the couch without a care. "That's exactly something I would expect them to do."
Fill the media with a whole bunch of nonsense so anything 'real' gets drowned out by idiots like this who spout a bunch of crap that means absolutely nothing.
Okay, that makes me feel less like wanting to find a gun and shoot myself, knowing it was intentionally stupid.
I just decided to go back to my work.
I took a pen and started drawing and filling in lines. Connecting constellations as I made notes here and there.
After a moment, I crumpled up the paper and tossed it to the side, deciding to redo it.
I had a particular character flaw, I had come to find out. That when I was 'working' seriously, if something wasn't perfect, it grated on me, and I couldn't accept it.
The introspection was odd with how I was able to identify it. Perhaps because of how my current mentality had departed from the previous ones I had due to my current circumstances.
I basically had to force myself to accept flaws, knowing that it was a rough draft.
Circles didn't need to be perfect; the constellations I drew didn't need to match perfectly either.
Cancer, Gemini, Taurus, Aries, Pisces, Aquarius, Capricorn, Sagittarius, Scorpio, Libra, Virgo, and Leo.
The Greek Zodiac.
I was going to specialize in astromancy; thus, I chose this group of constellations as the core set of my craft.
It wasn't just a flippant decision; I had been giving it thought, and I had plenty of ideas to go with it.
For the first part, I needed to craft myself a Mystic Code. Most Magus families usually have a Mystic Code that's passed down from the head of the family to the next successor, something that integrates into the family's crest and craft seamlessly.
My family is one of the exceptions there, as we had no specific dedicated craft.
Thus, I would need to create my own.
Of course, there were plenty of resources to work from.
I couldn't control everything happening in the world right now; I could only react once people came for me. But at the very least, I could begin on my craft and start increasing my own strength.
Most astromancy practitioners utilize the planets; I was going to deviate from that and focus mostly on the stars and constellations.
I knew that within the Astrology Department, there were two sorts of rivalries between those who used the geocentric model of the universe and those who used the heliocentric model. Both had their pros and cons with regard to how you went about your crafts.
I didn't have to worry about that for now.
Currently, my craft wasn't even in its infancy. It was still being conceived on paper.
"What are you doing?" Lancer peered over my shoulder.
"Designing a Mystic Code to facilitate my Magecraft easier." I told her, leaning to the side so she could see. "I will be utilizing the Greek Zodiac as my thaumaturgical base. So far, I have Cancer and Sagittarius' spell sequence and spell structure theorized."
Admittedly, I didn't have much beyond this at this particular point in time. But I was leaving myself plenty of room to continue in the future.
I had only been in this world for how long?
But I was stealing plenty of ideas from other…medias.
"How does it work?" She asked curiously.
"It will be a sort of dial, one that I can use to connect to the Foundation and actualize spells without needing to fully cast each spell every time." I explained. "A benefit of my family's trait, rejection of regression, is that I can connect with the thaumaturgical foundation of the Greek cosmology easier."
My family's sorcery trait isn't only good for making babies.
My family does have Ancient Greek blood flowing in our veins from long ago. That's enough for me to establish a connection to the Ancient Foundation through my family trait.
Though, it only really works because I'm the Crest Holder.
"But that's only the basics for now." I finished.
She hummed as if she understood, and I wouldn't doubt she did. She was a goddess; she probably understood this better than I did.
For Cancer, I was designing the spell to be of a simple defense. Cancer took the form of a crab, Carcinus, one of the foes of Hercules that he defeated. A Phantasmal Beast bordering a Divine Beast that was able to fight Hercules was by no means a simple entity.
Crabs are known for their tough shells; thus, it would be my go-to defensive spell.
Simple, easy.
The other was Sagittarius.
Also with a connection to Hercules, it was the constellation of Chiron.
Sagittarius would be my offensive spell.
My current design was to summon a bow using the constellation as a base. My future goal was to see if I could recreate Chiron's Noble Phantasm through Magecraft.
But that was still a long way away.
"Later, I was planning—" I paused, and as soon as I did, Lancer noticed something wrong too. "Someone just breached the outermost layer of the Bounded Fields."
The chair screeched against the ground as I shot to my feet.
The outermost layer was the 'don't come here' layer. The illusion and the mental deterrence. It was meant to dissuade people as the first line of defense and alert me as the second before the next layers of bounded fields triggered.
Before the really nasty stuff came into effect.
I shot through the house, and Lancer followed me as we turned the corridors and quickly kicked open one of the back doors towards the direction I sensed before.
A normal person shouldn't have been able to overcome these layers, so that leaves only a few possibilities.
It was opposite of the front yard, where there were still people camped out there.
Towards the back, we ran, but I didn't find anyone.
"Master." Lancer called to me, and I saw what she was pointing to.
On a tree, just barely at the edge of the Bounded Field's perimeter, there was a letter stuck to a tree trunk.
Someone intentionally tripped the outermost layer of my Bounded Field to get my attention.
"It is safe." She told me, plucking it off the tree. "There is nothing strange about it."
I trusted her expertise here. Even if she weren't a Magus, she would have easily been able to detect if there was something malicious about it.
I wasted no time ripping the side of it open and pulling out the contents, a simple folded piece of paper.
Though the parchment was of exceedingly high quality.
And the edges of it had a decorative enamel that screamed pretentiousness.
I began to read the contents, my expression slowly forming a scowl as I let out a long sigh. "A Cardinal just arrived in the city, and they are inviting me for a chat."
The Church finally reached out.
It's just one thing after another.
I knew it was coming, but I was hoping I would have another few days at a minimum.
Well, there's no point in putting it off.
I am owed a debt, and I will be collecting on it.
[Line break]
A/N
Church meeting next. And Frederick touches on his direction for his Magecraft.
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