Wandering Agent
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Machinist of Mana Chapter 84 Meeting Priscilla
🕑 Added 2025-01-06 14:46:52 +0000 UTC“Hello there my friend,” Simon said cheerfully as I joined him at the small room in his home we'd agreed to have this meeting at. While his face smiled his eyes held a hint of irritation.
“So you're this Percival I've been hearing about. I heard you assisted my Simon with those lovely little flowers he gave me,” a high voice added from a corner behind me.
I turned to see what could only be Priscilla, Simon's girlfriend. She was taller than I'd expected, and lithe like a tree, long, but graceful as she moved across the room. Blonde strands of hair fell lightly over her shoulders, straight and silken. Her gown was simple, but well made, not ostentatious, but enough to show she was someone important.
“Priscilla then? Thank you for convincing Simon here for me.” At my words the young man in question punched me in the shoulder.
“I would have helped anyway...” he griped as Priscilla approached us.
“Of course you would have, helping orphans? I've seen enough of you to know that the few moments of your time this would take wouldn't have been enough to stop it.” She leaned in to whisper to him though. “But you'd have complained the whole time.”
“Don't worry Simon, I'll make it up to you somehow,” I said, trying to placate my friend as he pouted a bit.
“Oh, how?”
“Want a gun?” I asked, on Earth that suggestion would have sent people raving, but he was much like me, and honestly probably had an arsenal of blades at his disposal.
“No, that's your thing not mine. You had some models of those planes though right? Don't suppose you'd be willing to share a scaled down one with me?”
“Easily done.”
I could see the glimmer in his eyes and his girlfriend shaking her head in the background. He'd been trying to make a golem, something we weren't allowed to do, but one of my toy planes? That was perfectly allowable, and honestly I owed him big for this and the gifts he'd helped me with with my lady friend.
“If you two are done, do you mind inspecting these?” Priscilla asked, motioning to the table.
I nodded and began to go down the line. Each of the small items he'd put magic into were of my own design and build, attempts at art. I'd based them off of pieces from Earth, some modern art swirls and twists, and some more like odd mathematical shapes people had come up with. Each was unique for this world, clearly something made for the joy of making but not fitting in clearly with any known aesthetic.
“They're weird,” Simon said.
“Just fun shapes, I think they'll do alright.”
“Any magical item sells well,” Priscilla pointed out. “And I've talked to some of the other priests. We won't be buying them, but we're making sure to encourage those who might. The fact that these are pretty simple tools won't hurt either, something anyone can use.”
“Anyone with magic,” I pointed out.
“Anyone rich enough to be at your little party. Those who don't have it can just hire mages to fill them,” she said with a shrug.
She wasn't wrong either. Most of the wealthy were magical, or if they weren't originally ended up so in a few generations by interbreeding with magical families. Magic was power, pure and simple, and there was nothing that would promise your family long term success more than having that power.
On the outside it might have seemed that our country was a monarchy, and to an extent that was true. More importantly though it was a magocracy, the power of mana infusing all of those who held important offices. Here and there non-magical folk, skilled workers or intelligent folk, would slip into power, but they didn't hold it. No, they were one offs, the exception to prove the rule, it was families like mine that held sway over governance in the end.
“Well, it is as you say,” I agreed after thinking it over.
“Of course, but do you mind if I ask a question about all of this?” she inquired.
“Go ahead.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Priscilla,” Simon said tiredly. “You're being rude.”
“I mean no insult, actually I think this is just the sort of thing we should do more of, but why?” she pressed.
“My grandmother insisted I host an event, some kind of coming of age, so I'm doing it my way, not hers. Sure, it will be odd to everyone, but it'll be fun, and we get to raise funds for a good cause.”
“Yes, I'm sure The Shield will be happy with the additional funding for their orphanage. Though I hope you're not thinking of pulling money off the top?” she asked, looking me over suspiciously.
Charity wasn't that odd, but there were some cases of people using it for fraud. Not that I intended any such thing.
“No miss Priscilla, the auction will be public, the winning bids the same. It will be simplicity itself for anyone to add them up and see what the result will be.”
“I'm sure someone will.”
“Enough now, Percival is a decent guy, no need to act like that.” Simon stood up for me not, telling her off. “You really should apologize.”
“If after the event is done you do as you say I'll give you a full apology,” she said to me, making me laugh and Simon sigh.
“You Shield folk sure are serious,” I said, thinking about her advocation.
“I'm with The Lovers,” she corrected.
“Ah, right. Can't say I've ever had much need of your Order's services,” I demurred, having almost forgotten about them.
“You might some time, we do provide plenty. The marks are the most famous thing we do, and while you may not need pregnancy control one would keep you from becoming a father unintentionally. Other than that it's mostly dealing with marriages and women's issues, but there are a few other things for men we get involved in...”
“Wait, I thought the marks were only for girls?” I asked, confused at her words.
Lover's Marks were the signature ability of The Lovers, a priestly order dedicated to just that. These marks were a form of birth control, some kind of tattoo or magical symbol. I wasn't overly familiar with the exact details because I'd never thought I'd need one, being completely incapable of getting pregnant.
“No the variant for men is less common, but there is one.”
“Might be wise to have...” I mumbled to myself, knowing that things could get out of hand sometimes from personal experience. Luckily I'd dodged the daddy bullet those times.
“Well, just come to the temple when you decide, we'll be happy to help.” It seemed my mumbling hadn't been nearly quiet enough.
“Understood.”
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