Machinist of Mana

The revelation of my grandfather's combat abilities left a lot of questions, questions I wanted answers to. Of course with all the excitement going on in the Royal Society and the gardens I was going to have to wait. There were a lot of people who insisted on a thorough search of both sites to root out where and how exactly the little monster had gotten in.

Small monsters, I learned, were not totally unheard of in most cities. Deep in the sewers and undergrounds, or in some abandoned sections of towns very, very minor beasts could sometimes make homes. These weren't the kind of thing that generally required any high end expert to deal with, but they could be about as dangerous as a large dog. Commoners often took up the mantle of hunting them, calling themselves things like 'rat catcher' being that rats seemed to be the most likely to mutate into large sizes.

The scandal it seemed was not that some minor creature existed in the city, but rather where it was, and that it was a complete unknown. There were going to be a number of nobles, my parents included, who were none too pleased that they and their children had been in the presence of such a beast. All that would come later though.

“Is there going to be trouble with us coming back so late?” I asked grandfather as we packed up, the day had been very long.

“No, I sent someone back to the house to let your parents know that we'd be a bit late. So your mother shouldn't be too cross with me,” he returned with a small smile.

“I have a question,” I began.

“Before that,” he interrupted. “We need to talk about what happened. I know you feel as if you could've taken that thing, and perhaps you could, but you need to know just how badly that could have gone. I don't want you investigating any monsters like that on your own Percival.”

“But it did turn out okay,” I protested.

My grandfather frowned, and began to loosen his tie, which was odd, and then undo the buttons on his shirt, which was even odder. I watched in confusion as he pulled it off a pair of layers, leaving himself shirtless in the carriage. When he was done I didn't need to ask why.

All across his chest, from one shoulder to the opposite hip were a series of scars. It looked like a claws had raked him, ripping inch wide gashes. He'd clearly survived, and didn't have any noticeable disability from it, but I could only imagine the sort of pain that injury would have caused.

“Normally I wouldn't show such a thing to a child your age, but you should know. When I was young my father and I went out to hunt what was supposedly a monster of only minor size. This was the result.”

“That was a minor monster?” I asked aghast. I knew there were beasts in this world, even if I'd never seen one.

“Admittedly no, the creature we met was far more formidable than we'd expected. Had I been alone I would have surely died. You're unlikely to meet such things around here, as they stick to deeper forests and remote locations, but it isn't impossible.” He leaned forward, making sure I didn't look from his eyes. “But I want you to think before going after any such thing. Think about how your parents would feel should you die in some foolish adventure.”

“Yes sir,” I answered, thoroughly chastised. It was clear that I wasn't ready to tackle some of the challenges out in the world just yet, and perhaps I never would be if I was alone.

“Now, you had a question,” he said as he began to replace his clothes.

“Your cane, is that why you carry it? I didn't know it was a weapon. What does it do?”

“Oh that. Staves have come and gone in style. A walking stick that can store mana and quickly project a few simple spells is rather convenient you see. My cane is similar, something I started carrying before moving over to Hediza,” he explained. “I continue out of habit mostly.”

“Hediza?” I inquired.

“Oh, perhaps a word you've never heard before hmm? Hediza is the name of the continent where the human kingdoms make their lands. Originally I'm from Elazia, the elven continent.” This was more than grandfather normally talked about his past.

Elves existed in this world, and I knew that my family was related to them somehow, but from what I'd heard grandfather wasn't really considered an elf, but some kind of mixed race individual, mother was too to a lesser extent, and I would be considered human, my ears not even coming to a real point, just slightly shaped.

“Are monsters that common there?” Details about the elven countries hadn't been covered in my education yet.

Grandfather gave me a complicated look. “There are many kinds of monster Percival.”

“People then?” I asked, surprised that he'd had that kind of problem.

“You're too perceptive for your own good child,” he grumbled. “Yes, people can be the worst monsters of all.”

“But why?”

“When you're older we'll speak of this, but not till then. Now, we've nearly arrived.” He was tucking in his shirt as we pulled up to the house, the driver opening the door for us.

The assault that night wasn't bad. Grandfather told mother that there had indeed been an issue with the tunnel, though he didn't go into detail, immediately before making himself scarce. I had to feel that there was more to that then I was realizing.

The next morning I found out, because there were a number of headlines in major papers. I didn't read them, but father got one daily, and so did several of the servants, meaning that at the family breakfast I saw him flip it open without realizing the front page, and seeing “DANGEROUS MONSTER BENEATH CITY!” and a sketch of the goblin.

I had to say their artist had taken some serious liberties. The goblin, which had been only the size of a small child was depicted as massive, muscled, and in possession of both claws and teeth. In reality the creature had been rather plain, missing the worst of these things and nowhere near the size depicted. I idly wondered if they'd even seen the body, certainly someone had it somewhere.

For a solid minute my mother looked at the headline and picture, then she turned to me. After a stare that made me fear for my young life she turned back to the paper where father was rustling it around, unknowing of the disaster he'd released upon us all.

“Dear,” she said in that sweet voice that made you know trouble was coming. “I'd like to read the front page there.”

My father appeared from behind the pages giving her a queer look. Mother didn't ever read the paper, instead getting news from a number of gossip sources and letters sent almost constantly between the women of the town.

“Certainly love, if you want to.” He too did a bit of a double-take after seeing what she wanted before handing it over.

I tried to rise, to flee from the table.

“Percival, stay,” my mother commanded, not even looking up.