Mage Tank

Chapter 182: Home & Garden & Very Small Pants

I didn’t end up testing my reforged skills after having lunch for breakfast. Once I’d eaten my fill, fatigue hit me hard enough that my sleep-deprived brain thought I was under attack. I hadn’t slept in a proper bed in months, and after a moment of hypervigilance, I realized I hadn’t slept in nearly three days. The sensation was similar to someone trying to hit me with a sleep spell.

So I crashed for 12 hours straight.

The last three hours were mostly me struggling to convince myself to climb out of my bundle of ultra-plush blankets and peel myself out of the Arlo-shaped indent I’d made in the mattress. When I’d bought the bed, I’d gone for something that favored softness, but that still had some level of firmness. Looking down at the mattress, it looked like a granite statue had been laid to rest in it for a week straight.

I poked at my chest and flicked my biceps with a finger. I didn’t feel like I was made of stone. Curious, I went to my armory and grabbed a wooden practice sword. I gave it a light slap against my thigh and it snapped in half.

It really shouldn’t have been a surprise. I added buying a Delver-crafted bed to the List, took a shower, and got on with my day.

Grotto had used the time to create his first golem. It was Grade 12 at base, but after equipping it with a full gear loadout plundered from fallen Delvers, it rose to Grade 15. We decided to kill two birds with one stone and field test my abilities and the golem simultaneously.

I demolished it.

I did my best not to utterly destroy the golem, since it was easier for Grotto to repair a construct than build a new one entirely. Sadly, there was little I could do about Oblivion Orb teleporting chunks of the entity to an unknown dimension. I felt good about my progress and I felt a little bad about breaking Grotto’s new toy. Not because it would make more work for Grotto, but because the golem looked a little too familiar.

“Why is the golem a clone of Etja?”

I frowned and looked over the dismembered creation. It was less lifelike than Etja, with skin and features that were clearly artificial. Still, it was like someone had made an immaculate stone statue of the mage, complete with her wholesome smile. The expression remained even in the golem’s death, which was a little creepy.

[Before you complain further, Etja consented to my use of her as a model.]

“When did that happen?”

[While you were wasting precious time being unconscious.]

“Hey, sleep is necessary for a well-functioning mind and body.”

[Your slumber lasted 50% longer than necessary for a mundane human to become fully rested.]

“I’ll refrain from trying to explain the psychological benefits of role-playing a slug once in a while. Did Etja come back from Eschangal?”

[No. She is currently engaged in a multi-day ‘shopping spree’ with Nuralie.]

“Then how did you get her permission?”

[I have remained in contact with the other party members during this downtime.]

“What? How?”

Grotto floated back from his attempted repairs of the golem and thought for a moment.

[Ah. I see I failed to inform you. The others were notified since they would be absent. I suppose it slipped my mind since you would remain close at hand.]

Grotto waved a feeler and a Level 40 Charisma evolution popped up.

Public Service Announcer

You can focus to communicate with any entity you have met across any distance as though you were standing next to them. This communication can be in any form available to you, such as speech, body language, or telepathy. You may allow this communication to be perceptible to anyone nearby, or only to that entity. Entities who can perceive this communication can respond to you in a similar manner as long as you maintain focus.

“Ah, yes. An insanely useful long-range communication ability that I had no reason to know about beforehand. Completely understandable that it ‘slipped your mind’.”

Grotto’s octo-brow furrowed.

[There is no need to be more sardonic than usual. Nothing has required your attention and taking time to yourself is beneficial. I also believe the other party members would find it rewarding to spend some time alone.]

I sighed and shook off my irritation.

“Sure, fine. Sorry, I think I’m irritable from oversleeping.” I rubbed my eyes. “Also, I’m 99% confident you made that reasoning up on the spot to cover for forgetting something.”

Grotto returned to his work on the golem.

[No. I am truly concerned about the… mental well-being of everyone in the party.]

His tone was less than convincing.

“Anything else that has slipped your mind recently?”

[Varrin has requested an early return through the Third Layer Checkpoint. He plans to arrive in the morning.]

“Did he give a reason?”

[Yes. The Hiwardian upper crust has caught wind of our upcoming meeting with the Littans. Combined with our contributions to advancing the phase, this has attracted a great deal of attention from the noble houses. Varrin plans to brief you in advance of their arrival.]

“Arrival? Arrival where?”

[They plan to pay a visit to the Closet.]

“And who, specifically, are we talking about?”

[The attendants are in flux as the situation is rapidly evolving. At the very least, we should expect Varrin’s great-grandfather–]

“You mean, Ealdric Ravvenblaq Senior, the current patriarch of the Ravvenblaq house, a living legend, and one of the most powerful Delvers in the world?”

[Yes. Varrin’s mother will join him. Also, the two high-level Duckgriens who saved you from Orexis.]

“The reigning Ravvenblaq Thundralke along with the matriarch and patriarch of the Dukgrien house, also living legends and two more of the most powerful Delvers in the world?”

[Yes. Additionally, the Dukgrien Thundralke is likely, along with Lito and Myria. One or more notable members from the other Hiwardian houses may show, and there is a small chance Filix Celeritia will make an appearance.]

My mind froze at the roster Grotto was laying out. It didn’t help that he was doing it in the most intentionally obtuse way imaginable.

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“Filix Celeritia? His Royal Highness King Filix ‘God-Step’ Celeritia, Sole Sovereign of the Kingdom of Hiward and Defender of the Realm, long may he reign?”

Grotto paused, waiting to see if I was done.

[Yes.] he thought, intonation the exact same as the last three times.[Although, such a lengthy title grants only superfluous information.]

“He’s the fucking king!”

[Ye–]

“Say ‘yes’ one more time,” I said, pointing at Grotto. His black eyes shifted as he calculated the risks and benefits of goading me any further.

[He is a king, but we are not his subjects. There is no reason to get worked up over the matter.]

I spun and power-walked out of the training room into the penthouse proper. I looked around, trying to wrap my head around what was happening.

I was no stranger to rubbing elbows with powerful people at this point. I’d met Patriarch Ravvenblaq before and had a handful of conversations with Nola and the Dukgriens. I’d spent a couple of days running through the swamp with Zenithar Zura and had meetings with the other two leaders of Eschendur. I’d had a pissing contest with a Littan admiral and was on a first-name basis with a goddess. Hells, I’d even had a deity pay a personal visit to the Pocket Delve the day before.

But this was different. Those encounters were high-stakes, but there was one core difference with the upcoming soiree that ratcheted things up a notch.

I was hosting.

I did a lap of the penthouse, eyeing every piece of high-end luxury furniture, the overpriced paintings, the tasteful bronze sculptures. I ran my fingers across the supple threads of hand-woven silk rugs and stared down at the impeccably laid hardwood floors. Mahogany cabinets, marble countertops, and a wine cellar filled with an irreproachable selection of vintages, it was an abode of peerless taste and timeless decor.

And it was way too small.

There was no time to construct and decorate another ten thousand square feet with such a high degree of exemplary furnishings! Damn my incredible taste and insistence on only the finest baubles and knick-knacks!

Grotto and I could expand into the Closet to make space for a horde of royalty, but it’s not like I kept a mansion’s worth of high-end interior decorations lying about. It would be obvious that it was new construction. I hadn’t even had time to build a proper lawn and garden for large events.

And what about food? I had plenty of fresh goods for myself, even enough for some family meals with the party, but nowhere near what was needed to satisfy a gaggle of nobles and their entourages. I didn’t even know what types of finger foods old-money Hiwardians enjoyed. It was an island nation, so they probably ate a lot of fish, right?

I didn’t have any fish!

It didn’t keep well and always tasted funny after storing it in inventory for too long. Varrin swore it was all in my head, but Nuralie agreed and I trusted her palate more.

At least I had several kilos of luxury cheeses and two dozen barrels of craft beer. Cheese and beer sounded like a good time, but was it a royally good time?

Maybe Varrin foresaw this problem. Maybe he was coming early to lend me an inventory full of Ravvenblaq antiques and hand me a hundred pounds worth of fancy fixin’s. I could only hope. But would he bring a chef as well? I started eyeing that Cooking intrinsic more seriously.

I went back to the training room.

“Grotto! Put the golem down, we’re going into emergency event planning mode!”

*****

While we couldn’t make a mansion from nothing, we could use what we had to prepare a serviceable hosting location. Our primary greenhouse wasn’t pulling double duty as a living space like the hot spring was, so we converted it into an indoor party garden.

We had plenty of greenery, and expanding the space to create intricate geometric pathways weaving between flowers and bushes was as easy as Grotto waving a feeler. Constructing a patio was as simple as raising up the floor of the Closet, but it really needed some tile or stone to be seen as anything less than utilitarian.

Grotto also marked out several secluded areas within the shrubbery where he’d place sound-dampening weaves, enabling guests to hold discreet conversations. It wasn’t as effective as a series of dedicated meeting rooms, but it was much prettier. Besides, I wasn’t trying to create a comprehensive diplomatic facility. I just needed to provide enough functional architecture that I’d give the appearance of a semi-competent socialite.

I paused in the midst of our project to think over why I felt so strongly about that last point. I enjoyed being a proper host, but I wasn’t typically concerned with putting up a veneer of wealth or sophistication. The only reasonable conclusion was that Diplomacy was already flexing its skill levels, influencing me to be more considerate of appearances in the face of unknown political entities.

If the Hiwardian ruling class came for a visit to the personal home of Fortune’s Folly’s party leader, certain judgments would inevitably be made not just about me, but also about the party as a whole. A home that spoke only of personal luxury and intimate gatherings would imply I had no reason to believe I’d need to host larger groups.

Important and well-connected people often needed to host large groups of other important and well-connected people as a matter of course. Elbows would be rubbed, palms greased, conspiracies plotted, the Illuminati formed. Hiwardian nobility would expect someone of station to have an estate organized with such facts in mind. Thus, if the best I could do was show the king of Hiward to my solitary dining room for a chat, one might glean the impression that I was not an important and well-connected person.

I wasn’t concerned about petty remarks or poorly hidden smirks. The opinions of the snide and the spoiled meant little to me. However, if I was misjudged to be someone of little import, that placed a target on our backs. Fame was a dangerous thing if you had no one to throw their weight around when the predators came sniffing.

We could handle ourselves in the face of obvious lethal threats, but if a high-ranking noble decided to try and box us in as part of some convoluted scheme to take advantage of our recently acquired notoriety, it could spell a lot of trouble that might be better avoided.

Varrin was a member of a major house, but he wasn’t expected to inherit the title of Thundralke, his brother was. Xim would likely become chieftain of an important Third Layer tribe one day, but they were a minor power in First Layer Arzia. Nuralie was a fledgling inquisitor, and Etja had no political clout to speak of. All I had was a tribal membership, grit, and gumption. We weren’t the easiest targets to snare in a web of intrigue and manipulation, but we were far from the hardest. Anything I could do to reduce the chances of that happening was worth spending some time and effort on.

Grotto and I finished organizing the greenhouse into a sprawling garden with space for gatherings of several sizes. We had a patio with room for twenty or so people–which prominently displayed my auto-cooking Kill n’ Grill–several locations for gatherings of up to eight, and a few nooks and crannies for doubles and triples.

Glowstones and mana weaves created an alluring array of lighting solutions that could be customized based on the time of day and mood. Grotto had a surprising amount of talent for arranging the plants into thoughtful displays with coherent themes of color and form. It also smelled fucking fantastic in there, so long as you didn’t have allergies. Since most of the visitors would be Delvers, I doubted it would be a problem.

We didn’t have shit for lawn furniture though.

We expanded the kitchen to make space for a head chef and a team of cooks. I didn’t have any commercial equipment to add, but we could at least ensure plenty of room for food prep and easy movement. We also rearranged the armory to look less like an armory and more like a trophy room displaying the spoils of our conquests. It looked good but was incomplete without additional wall decor. It also needed some cozy places to sit and indulge the ultra-masculine need to be surrounded by instruments of war and death, feeling like a badass while doing so.

Additional rearrangements were made to take my bedroom from an easy offshoot of the main living area to a more secluded master bedroom. We then created a large foyer that guests could enter through, with vaulted ceilings and some lovely chandeliers I’d looted from the Mimic Delve.

Grotto assured me they wouldn’t try to eat anyone, but I was going to keep an eye on them nonetheless.

It was a twelve-hour remodeling spree made possible by the total control Grotto and I shared over the dimensions of the Closet. Rooms had been constructed to be semi-modular, allowing us to shuffle things around on a whim without tearing apart the walls or flooring.

Portals and Dimensional fuckery also allowed us to connect rooms that were nowhere near one another. Both Grotto and I had a little fun coming up with ways to make my penthouse feel bigger than it actually was. If every room connected to two more via portals craftily hidden between door frames, then it would seem like the space went on forever. Once someone figured out the rooms were continually looping into one another, they’d likely be more impressed than if we merely had a humongous house.

I busted my ass to move materials and rearrange bulky items as quickly as possible. I was sweaty, shirtless, and wearing my favorite pair of hotpants for comfort and mobility. I got so in the zone that I lost track of time, and Grotto was about as terrible at gauging time as I imagined any billiondy-year-old immortal would be. Before I knew it, Grotto interrupted my repositioning of an armoire to let me know Varrin was awaiting entry through the Third Layer Checkpoint.

“Shit, can I take a quick shower?”

[He insists that time is of the utmost importance.]

“Important like ‘yes, become less gross but do it in five minutes,’ or important like ‘I’m burning to death and you’re the only person holding a bucket of water for miles?’”

[His exact words were ‘Every grain of sand in the hourglass must be valued as a pauper would value a precious jewel.’]

“Fuck, why is he so poetic? When did he get so poetic?”

I pulled a towel from inventory and wiped myself down, moving toward our new foyer. I took the time to pop out my leather vest and shrug it on, making the mildest attempt to not be mostly nude when greeting the big guy. I figured Xim and her parents would be with him, maybe Khigra, but they weren’t exactly bashful. Plus, they knew what I was about.

I rubbed my hair dry of sweat and ran my fingers through my beard in a futile attempt to tame it, then activated the Checkpoint.

When the portal opened, I found Varrin as expected, some well-dressed and very proper-looking young noble women who I hadn’t expected, and the entire household staff of the Ravvenblaq manor, none of whom had expected my hotpants.

I smiled and waved.

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