Well, it's not like anything else going on in the rest of my week is more interesting than adventuring through the untrammeled wilds in search of treasure, experience points and the chance to serve the public good.

  After our tavern meeting on Sixthday, I got dressed up, went to a nice little soiree of nobility celebrating the engagement of a couple of Skerlat branches. It was mostly a Development-faction affair, but there was room for some Independent merchants as well. I wound up connecting a couple of Skydown traders with their Meadowtam equivalents.

  On Sevenday I went to church at Skydown Crossing and chatted with folks there. It was very different from Broghton, but it healed a similar part of my soul. I told my preacher that I'd miss next weekend on account of slaying monsters and fighting against an evil cannibal heretical cult of barbarians. He let me know that if I wanted to drop by afterwards he could maybe work in a late service as well.

  On Oneday I went back to school and started quietly asking some questions around Developing Theories, gathering some tidbits for later. Nothing serious.

  On Twoday, I sent another letter to the Eyellon house about my road-demolition proposal.

  On Threeday, I filed an official inquiry for the class rankings, demanding an answer.

  On Fourthday I found out that my formal inquiry had been referred to a committee for review and would be approved as soon as the review was complete.

  On Fiveday I followed up and found out that particular committee has not convened in over thirty years and only exists in name because of a filing mistake. I went to bed on Fiveday night angry enough to chew nails, so I guess it's for the best that I would be fighting monsters in the morning.

  "It's a shame you've got your wilderness thing tomorrow," Elica said. "It's the only Sixthday night in ages that there's not a single significant party planned, and instead of sleeping in or enjoying the city's entertainments with me, you're going to be out. In nature."

  I should point out that this evening was clear specifically because next weekend was the start of Spring Fashion Week, and the only events immediately before that were purely celebratory, sending off the old season and drinking in the new.

  "Elica, do you think I'm going on a nature hike tomorrow?" I asked, putting my things up for tomorrow.

  "Sort of?" she said. "I'm rather vague on the details. A hunting trip?"

  "Poisoned jungle. Wild monsters. Cursed temple. Ancient evil. Cannibal cultists. Slaying evil. Long-lost treasures."

  She paused, chewing her lip gently, her eyes down on her hands as she folded her clothes away. "So, hunting, then, right?"

  What else could I say. "Yep. Hunting. G'night, Elica."

  By the time first bell rang I had already been washed, dressed, prepared and placed by my hard-working unsleeping soul. I yawned twice, then grabbed both backpacks and started walking downstairs to the quad. If it were not for Tiviti's advice I likely would have come downstairs dressed all in dramatic black leather, but I didn't want to be the one that all the monsters could smell, so I avoided leather and also wool just to be safe. I had gotten some clothes of thick canvas and dense cotton batting, warm and rough-wearing, undyed to blend with dirty snow and winter-dulled trees.

  I was the first one down there, of course. Gratefully I dropped both of the bags I had packed last night. And then I started casting my spells out, to make sure I was ready for the day. Curving void to open portals from here to there. Channeling steel so I would have the strength, the toughness, the unyielding determination of steel. And also to channel the essence of the owl, for senses, lightness, and stealth.

  Which was how I picked up that Sir Maspers was already approaching from the direction of the gates. I turned, and gave him a wave. He was in the shadows under the awnings, walking up from my blind side a hundred yards away. He looked surprised that I detected him, but he waved back.

  Magic is awesome. I'm so glad I got to use it in this life.

  I went back to my casting, curving air to start warming the atmosphere around me and about a hundred other tricks with wind and movement and comfort. I prepared myself to conjure water and steel today, I would surely need both. Also, channeling lightning so I'd be ready when it was time to think very quickly. It's not a trick I can use at the same time as steel, but there's a proper time for either of them.

  And like that, half my mana for the day was used up. So early, so easy. Hopefully it would cover almost every situation I'd run across today, and I wouldn't need any more than that. But that's fooling myself, it always comes up. Still, those eight spells would be with me all day. I started building up warm air around me, it's easier to do it slowly over a wide area. Even in Skyside it was chilly today, and this day would only get colder for us.

  "Morning," I called out when he got inside a shout. "Surprised you weren't here first."

  "Guards at the gates refused to let me in before the toll of first bell," Sir Maspers said. "You must have slept in your clothes."

  "In a manner of speaking," I hedged.

  He paused, whether in thought or just because he had stepped into the bubble of warmed air. "Huh. Is it- Braux said some things. About how you never really sleep at all."

  "It's mostly like sleeping. Dreaming too. But only after I wake up," I said.

  He shrugged. He seemed to be learning the art of just letting things go if he didn't understand them. It's a skill that not many people around me have, my circle of acquaintances are plagued by excessive curiosity into my affairs. "You're in trousers," he pointed out. "Funny how I'm surprised but not."

  I looked down at my thick denim jeans. Sturdier and warmer than most of what I could buy in my old life, but good for this weather. Shopping in Hearstcliff is weird, you have to go to a really bad shop to find really good jeans. Turns out they're not nearly as modern as I always thought. "Well, we will be in the woods for two days," I pointed out. "And we'll need plenty of mobility as well. But mostly, if all it takes is a brush from a branch to drive you with delusions, probably best to encase the legs rather than wear a skirt."

  "Certainly sensible and fine," he said, setting down his duffel. "But .. I don't know. My mental preconception, you know? Sometimes I've seen you and thought that you were wearing a costume and you'd be better off wearing something else. And you do seem very comfortable in trews, more than I expected. Because sometimes you wear silks and finery so effortlessly. I've known enough noblewomen to recognize that, it comes of literally being born to wear the most elegant dresses. You do that, but then sometimes you're someone very different. Like today."

  I laughed a little. It might have been a nervous laugh, just a little. "Well, Captain, I'm just like everyone else, I contain multitudes."

  "No," he said. "Most people do not. Most people barely have one story of their own, and it's easy to get out of them. Some folk are more complex and interesting and dangerous. But you seem to actually contain multitudes. You are so many things at once, and I wonder if it's hard to do that."

  I had a pang. I looked away. "I mean... if there's a simpler way to do things, I'd probably recommend it," I said. "If I could pare down a little, I'd gladly do it. There's things going on... I'll be happy to drop some of my obligations."

  "Not obligations," he said, shaking his head. "Maybe I'm not saying it right. All these things you need to do, each of them forces changes on you. To be the silk-dress duchess and the canvas-pants adventurer. Laboratory work, social friends, athlete, philanthropist, prophet.. each of those roles wants you to be someone different. I wonder if they pull away from each other, like you're being tugged in a dozen directions. Or do they press, and force you into a contorted mold?"

  I channeled steel in fast. That was becoming my go-to move when I found myself starting to well up. It was too early in the day for crying. I flooded my mind and personality with the essence of hard metal, and my thoughts firmed up, my feelings went rigid and resilient. The essence clanged in like a heavy bar, driving out the wet and wobbly sadnesses that had threatened to overwhelm me. I looked around the quad, watching a few more figures arriving from different dorm buildings. "It's more of a push than a pull," I said. "The different roles do not really conflict with each other. But they do not leave much room for much else. Could you gather everyone close by? I need to go retrieve our ninth." I conjured my steel blindfold into one hand, and pressed it over my eyes. It's probably a bad sign that I fall apart this fast if anyone expresses concern for my well-being. It's gotta be some kind of red flag.

  And I stepped through a portal.

  On the other side, the room was small and cramped, and the resident was just sitting up from his bed, staring. He scrubbed at his eyes, his hair standing up at odd angles. He gaped at me, backlit by my portal for a moment before I closed it. "If you want to get out of here for the weekend," I said, "you should put on your warmest clothes."

  The young man stared at me with utter confusion, which was better than the raw hate that filled his face half the time. "Rara avis. Rooster robin raven rail, auk avocet and albatross." Speaking of red flags and emotional instability...

  "We don't have long," I said. "Got people waiting on us, and we've got a long way to hike. But if you wanna go murder some monsters with me, you should be dressed for the occasion. I'm not going to fabricate clothes for you."

  And the [ Madman ] leaped into action, scrambling. He pulled overpants on over his pajama pants, tunic over his nightshirt, jerkin, sweater, lab coat, and grabbed his boots. "We're not in that much a hurry," I said. "Put socks on. Two layers." Whatever he feels in his mind and heart, the offer of wanton murder eclipses it. The man is a weapon, and everyone pretends not to see it.

  He looked at me, grinning. "A chance to dance, advance the lance? To glance and stance with red romance? Prancing, entrancing, circumstancing, swing an axe and let the plan sing? Feeding beating chop and drop, fleeting bleeding never stop!" He looked at me like I'd announced Christmas, but he was pulling on thick socks, mismatched.

  "I appreciate all that energy, slugger, but you're coming along as a research consultant," I said. "You've got a knack for designing death and damage, and I wanna put you in the field. If you're aware of real-world conditions, you're gonna do a better job. You design me weapons, I'll build them." He shoved his feet into a pair of boots, and stood up. Towering over me, the damn tall lout. Larianne's an inch shorter than me, I'm not the very shortest member of this party. "Now," I told him, "I've made arrangements to clear you for the weekend. But they are informal arrangements, understand? You're coming along as my guest, and I've put my neck out for you. I talked to Dean Corder, but you're not officially checked out. No paperwork. So I need to bring you back in working order. Don't get hurt out there, all right?"

  "Graham eye's a post to take the tonfa aether?" he asked, reaching for gloves on his dresser. I picked up he sketchbook and notebook, and held them out to him. As usual, all I could really do was ignore what he said and just hope that some spark of him in there is following the real world well enough when we need him.

  I paused, and glanced around. "Between us? The only reason I'm taking this step is that I got a System notification .According to the powers that created this world, we're on a quest called Jury-Rigged Jungle. I don't think that can possibly mean anything other than bringing you with me into the field to test your abilities. And when I get information directly like that, I pay attention. System notifications and quest lines are the best cheat-knowledge I've got now."

  When we came back out on the quad, everyone was staring. The portal is an attention-getter, everyone notices it. It looked like they were in the middle of rearranging the straps of their packs, Quarl had mentioned some fast-release method. Most of them were staring at the lanky, disheveled guy I was holding onto, with a prominent birthmark and wild eyes.

  I could see a few of them starting to recognize him but nobody connected the dots faster than Sir Maspers. "Oh fuck no," he said. Not a denial per se, but more of disbelief.

  "Guys, meet Nux Gysmo. He'll be along with us to field test some of his inventions. Nux, that's your bag right there. The side pocket has a small weapon for you to defend yourself."

  Larianne was looking at me with frank disbelief. "Didn't he hate your guts even before his friends got murdered so hard it drove him insane?"

  I shrugged. "I don't know how much he really hated me, and how much was just going along with his friends." Nux had reached into the bag and pulled out a small hand-held stun-gun, enough to lock up muscles or stun a creature, but we still had fairly primitive batteries. He should know it wouldn't carry much of a charge. Like I said, to defend himself. But if he turned on us there's not nearly enough juice. "But he really likes killing, and that's just what we'll do."

  Enough to get away if he got attacked. Not enough to endanger the party. I may have carefully calculated that. He pressed the button, and electricity crackled. The people standing nearest him jumped in surprise, he smiled contentedly and put the stunner in his pocket.

  I take a moment to appreciate how disparate this group is. Half of us look like someone's trying-too-hard OC.

  For one thing there's the big man with the bodybuilder physique wearing tanned buskin trousers, a mid-weight fringed jacket and I'm pretty sure those are motorcycle boots somehow. Licard is wearing thick modest clothing with a practical eye for movement and coverage, but nothing hides the fact that he's got a neck like a tree stump, fists like a Thanksgiving turkey, and even his ears are muscular. Even though he moves lightly and comfortably, he just fills so much space and is built with so much obvious power.

  There's the tall girl, clearly designed with the "no middle sliders" mentality.Tiviti is a creature of extremes just as much as the healer is, but her physique looks impossible, as if she should be barely able to walk with those proportions. Instead she has a quiet graceful confidence about her, especially when she's caressing her scabbarded sword. Embossed runes glimmer from it, and from half her clothing. Earrings and bracer and boots and belt, all emblazoned with mysterious symbols that were soon to blaze into light and power.

  I suppose every bizarre cutscene needs a Goth princess. Larianne has managed to be dressed for the harshest wilderness but also dressed for the dance club. The leather buckles all the way to the top of her neck, glossy and figure-flattering and tar-black. She has not skimped on her lipstick and eyeliner, and her hair is an immaculate drape of fine strands. Her flowy, gauzy skirt reveals that she is wearing matching black leather pants buckled down to her fashionable but hard-wearing boots.

  Masked edgelord archer with a giant crossbow and a hooded black cloak? Got one. Unlike Larianne's high-contrast high-gloss black garb, he's matte and seems to have no silhouette. The black of his cloak is actually patchy bands of darkest brown and darkest gray. The rest of his clothes are swallowed up inside that layer, but when I can see his hands they are wearing thickly-layered thickly-stitched leather gloves. Not sharpshooter gloves as I expected, but heavy-duty work gloves.

  Tall lanky absent-minded professor with a lab coat and a goofy grin. Not everyone's first consideration for a journey in the wilderness. It's the kind of choice that offsets the rest of the group. But then, there's a certain something about him. The rest of them have had a week to mentally prepare themselves, settle into a posture for violence and privation. Nux already has it in his eyes when he gets here, like he's already in his own jungle fighting his own demons.

  Maspers is wearing a battered, wide-brimmed hat and a long travel-worn coat that has seen some shit. Everything he's got on looks like it has proven its place on a hundred roads and a dozen life-or-death battles. The general look is sort of a Wild West sheriff or marshal, he's even got his sword worn in a low-hanging style near his hands for a quick-draw. He really should carry a badge. He's more lightly dressed than the rest, but I can sense a warming sigil attached to the coat.

  Like any journeyman wizard on the road to adventure, Kimothy is modeling a simple overrobe of undyed wool with a detached capelet and hood. Where the fabric pulls away, we can see that he's taken the admonition of layers seriously, lots of lightweight items to give him plenty of options. Tiviti is helping him with his bag, and I'm watching the uncertainty and hesitation drain out of his eyes. Fears well up within him, but the others put those to rest without even trying. He has a lot of faith in all of us.

  On the other hand, I feel like Thumper could have mentioned at any time that her resin armor was crafted in the style of the school uniform, with the blue and gray coloration styled to resemble the suit jackets and waistcoats of the uniforms sold at the school store. Unlike the rest of us, she has no access to any shopping establishments outside the grounds, so her entire ensemble is drawn from the school's own commissary, save for the expertly-made sword she clearly had specially made for her exact requirements.

  "Everyone finishing an equipment check?" I said mildly.

  Thumper pointed a finger past me. She still has not stopped staring at our latest arrival. "Hold up though. I gotta address this, sorry. That is the guy that witnessed the murders and went all the way around the bend, right? Lost his marbles?"

  If there actually was a proper term for what had happened to Nux, I would have corrected her. If there was a place to say "actually this is just organic schizophrenia", or "He's experienced a psychotic break and post-traumatic stress"- but that's not what's happened here. He's not got anything you could diagnose with a manual, he's just... bananas.

  "Yes," I said. "That's the one. And he's here to help."

  "Does he know he's here to help?" Quarl asked. I glanced over at Nux, he was picking up a ladybug from his bag and put it in his mouth. He slowly and thoughtfully chewed.

  "I'm ... seventy-five percent sure he knows he's here," I said. "I can't swear to the rest. Now then, we're headed to the takeaway place for some breakfast on the go, and then we're headed to the jungles of Uchislowi. It won't be relaxing, but we will get very wealthy."

  Kimothy raised his hand. "Is there an option for an outing that is very relaxing, and also profitable? I'd sign that up."

  I snorted. "I'm going to hold you to that, it's gonna come up. Ramblers, let's get rambling."