NOVEL NEXT B3 - Lesson 27: “Family Reunions Are The Worst."
The drone's wings hummed with a low, steady buzz as it hovered in the rafters of the newly repurposed building. Sunlight streamed in through wide, arched windows, catching in motes of dust and black-threaded nanites dancing in orchestrated patterns through the air. Below, the floor was alive with movement — liquid steel flexing and shaping itself into sleek shelving units, counters folding themselves into place like obedient origami, wall panels unspooling from storage cores like scrolls. Even the floor beneath was shifting, dark tile spreading in a smooth ripple as the old warped boards were digested and replaced.
Alpha observed it all through the [Wasp]'s eyes, perched high above the chaos like a conductor overseeing his symphony. He didn't need to speak. The blueprint was already embedded into the nanite hive-mind — every angle of trim, every lighting fixture, every corner placement of display cases had been optimized to guide a customer's attention in subtle, deliberate arcs. It would be more than a shop. It would be a lure. A stage. A trap, if necessary.
Hugo stood in the middle of it all, just off to the side where the flow of nanites wouldn't consume his boots, watching wide-eyed. The lad's armor was off for once, replaced by simple trousers and a short-sleeved tunic rolled at the elbows. His arms were crossed, but it was a thoughtful posture, not a defensive one.
"This is… kind of amazing," Hugo admitted after a long pause. "I learned shop layout from my mother. She had me study customer psychology, the value of anchor displays, flow pacing, ambient mood design — everything. She was good. Very good." He turned slowly, nodding to himself. "But you're better."
Alpha, speaking through the drone's filtered voice modulator, gave a faint chuckle. "Of course. I learned from a master."
Hugo looked up, cocking his head. "Really? Who?"
Rather than answering, Alpha flicked a command through the link. A shimmer passed through the air in front of Hugo, and a three-dimensional projection unfolded from the [Wasp]'s emitter array — a soft-blue hologram of an elderly goblin woman, eyes like dark coals and fingers forever smudged with charcoal and ink, sitting on a rickety stool and yelling at someone in the distance as construction when on around her.
"Weaver?" Hugo blinked. "That's Weaver?"
"She helped design the Dragon's Garden," Alpha said. "I watched, learned, adjusted."
"I don't doubt her skills," Hugo said slowly. "I've seen what she did there, and in the village. It's just…" He scratched the back of his head, clearly trying to find the right words. "I guess I'm just surprised. You don't exactly strike me as the kind of person who admits when someone else is better than him."
"Why wouldn't I?"
Hugo looked up again, squinting. "Most people with your kind of power and resources… don't. They'd find it shameful to ask an old goblin woman to teach them. Especially one working under them."
Alpha's laugh echoed through the drone like the chime of a forged blade. "Then most people are fools. A real leader knows when one of his subordinates is better at a task than he is. A great leader knows how to learn from them."
The words hung in the air longer than Hugo expected. He didn't answer right away, just nodded slowly, hands falling to his sides. His gaze drifted toward the far wall, where the nanites were beginning to weave a glowing runic strip into the floor, marking the path to the main display chamber. "Huh," he muttered. "That's… going to stick with me."
Alpha was about to respond when a soft chime echoed in his awareness — a ping from one of the encrypted comms he'd distributed. A direct call.
He pulled up the line. The drone's eye flared slightly brighter as he connected. "Maggy. What's wrong?"
A flickering window opened across the Wasp's vision, showing Maggy's face. She looked tired, her curls slightly disheveled, her expression caught somewhere between frustration and concern. "You told us to call you when we were done," she said, biting the edge of her lip.
Alpha tilted the drone's head slightly. "Already? It's only been a few hours. Did your teacher consider my offer?"
Maggy shook her head. "Didn't get to see him. His tower was empty. Abandoned, really. He and the whole neighbourhood, it seems. They left in a hurry, too. He left something behind, though. A message. I think he wanted me to find it."
Alpha fell quiet, weighing her tone. "Where are you now?"
"The orphanage," Maggy said. "The one near the western Prima Temple. I didn't have anywhere else to go, and… well. They always helped me before."
A part of Alpha's mind parsed the transmission source. His network pinged local landmarks, recalibrated a mental overlay of Halirosa. Sure enough, the signal wasn't far. A few streets at most. He wondered, absently, if the neat little chapel next to the new shop was a local branch of the same temple. The aesthetic matched.
"And your teacher?" Alpha asked.
"Gone. But the note he left me said to find him at… Avalon." She spoke the name in a hushed tone, half in reverence and half as if afraid someone would hear her.
Though to Alpha, the name meant nothing. He turned to Hugo, who was listening in.
"A nation of Espers who live on a floating island. It's half legend, half boogyman story for most," the man explained.
Alpha nodded and returned to his call. "I see. I assume you want to follow after him?"
Maggy nodded. "I—I think I need to. Teacher never did anything without a reason. If he wanted me to go to Avalon, then it's important."
She paused, then hesitantly asked, "I… I was kind of hoping you might… be able to help me?" The young woman blushed over the video.
Alpha hummed lowly, considering the request. Visiting a 'mysterious floating island full of Espers' was tempting…
"Possibly. But we still have business we need to take care of here, first. Icefinger's not going to go quietly."
"I know," Maggy said with a sigh. "Just figured I might ask."
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
"If your teacher is playing keep-away, it's probably for your own good," Alpha added. "He's giving you time. Let's not waste it."
Maggy opened her mouth to reply — then a loud crash echoed from her end of the feed. Shouts followed, angry voices, the sound of someone pounding on a door.
Alpha stiffened. "Maggy. What's happening?"
Her eyes widened, and she ducked slightly off-screen. "Some guys are outside. Trying to force their way in. They're asking for me by name."
"Do you know why?"
"I wasn't exactly subtle at the tower," she admitted. "If someone was watching…"
Alpha's voice sharpened. "Hold your position. I'm on my way."
Maggy nodded once, quickly, then cut the feed.
Alpha surged to life through the drone, pulling it sharply upward and spinning in midair to face Hugo. "Get your armor."
Hugo startled. "What? Why? What's going on?"
"Trouble," Alpha said, already recalibrating navigation paths through the city's airways. "Maggy's in danger."
Hugo turned toward the door, already moving. "What about you?"
The drone's eye flickered with wry amusement. "I'm calling the cavalry."
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"Wait!" Maggy's voice rang across the temple steps, sharp enough to halt the surge of tension rolling through the morning air. The door swung wide behind her, letting out a breath of incense and candle-wax, and she stepped into the sunlight — hair wild from running fingers through it, cheeks flushed, staff nowhere in sight but her hands balled and sure at her sides.
Behind her, three others spilled out into the light. First came a young woman not even out of her teens, short and compact as a thundercloud, her skin pale as parchment beneath a flaming crown of hair. She glared at Thomas, lips curled in a sneer, arms crossed, and stance wide, ready to pounce. Behind, a young man — roughly the same age — hovered in her wake. He was tall enough that he had to duck through the lintel, awkward in his gangly frame, broad-shouldered but nearly folding himself smaller, as if he could somehow vanish behind the girl's smaller fury.
The last was a man Maggy hadn't seen in months: late twenties, with that familiar sharp-chinned, sharp-eyed look, and a smile that sat crooked on his face like it belonged to someone else. His armor was battered but well-kept, the patch of the Adventurer's Guild sewn on one shoulder. His hi-top fade was braided back from his face, which only made his grin look slyer and more irrepressible. If one didn't know him, they might have thought one of Thomas' thugs had somehow slipped in behind them. Yet he walked up and stood beside her with a cheeky grin and a wink.
Many — especially the crueler children of the orphanage — had called him 'rat-faced' in his youth, but Maggy had always felt he looked more like a fox.
At the foot of the stairs, Thomas folded his arms and smirked. He was dressed finer than Maggy remembered, but the city's hunger had left its mark on his face: the jaw set harder, the eyes glittering with something sharp and desperate. "About time you showed your face," he called up. There was a practiced ease to his voice, but it shook just a little on the last word.
Before Maggy could reply, Sister Audrea's hand came down on her shoulder with the authority of a judge's gavel. "Back inside, Margaret. Let me handle it." The words were stern, but her eyes shone with the same old warmth that had soothed so many scraped knees and bruised hearts. "Go on now. No sense getting mixed up in whatever this is. I won't let them take you."
Maggy shook her head, stepping forward out of Audrea's shadow. "I'm not a child anymore, Sister." She smirked. "Besides, I'm a [Sixth-Circle] mage now. I can hold my own." She let her aura bleed out, faint but undeniable — a prickle of golden mana humming through the morning air.
Audrea blinked, surprised, and Maggy caught the subtle shimmer of earth-aligned magic probing her, quick as a heartbeat. The older woman's frown deepened, but she nodded once, slowly. "Early stages or not, you're still no match for the likes of them. And Ann, Jonah — you two stay out of this! I don't want to see either of you caught up in their games."
Ann scoffed, tossing her hair. "We're not children either, Sister. We're almost of age! And Thomas —" she leveled a finger at the man at the bottom of the stairs, "— never once beat me in a fair spar, even before he left. Doubt much has changed, even with all that fancy spirit aura."
Jonah shifted from foot to foot, ducking his head so his hair flopped into his eyes. "Ann, we should… Maybe it's better if we just —" His voice was deep, hesitant, as if every word cost him. "Just let Audrea handle it."
Ann whirled on him, glowering. "You want to hide? Go ahead. I'm not running from gutter trash like him."
A muscle in Thomas's jaw twitched. He opened his mouth to spit back something hot, ugly, but the sharp-faced man stepped between them, arms outspread, the easy grin returning. "Hey, Tom! Six months gone and you can't even say hi to your big brother?"
Thomas's eyes snapped to him, going cold as river stone. "Bartholomew." The name landed flat, without affection.
Bartholomew's smile faded. He lowered his arms, fixing Thomas with a long, searching look. "Thomas… what have you gotten yourself wrapped up in this time?"
Thomas's mouth curled into a sneer. "You never could be happy for me when things went right. Always had to one-up me, didn't you? Well, not this time!" He threw his arms wide and his aura blossomed, the force of it crashing across the temple steps like a breaking wave — icy cold, edged with the unmistakable bite of golden spirit power.
Bartholomew staggered beneath the pressure, his own spirit energy flaring bright silver in answer. He didn't fall, though his boots scraped stone. He stood his ground, even as sweat broke on his brow. When Thomas let the pressure fade, Bartholomew shook his head, sadness written plain across his face. "That's not it, Tom. All I ever tried to do was protect you. That's all."
"I DON'T NEED YOUR PROTECTION!" Thomas roared, voice bouncing off the stone facades. He spun and jabbed a finger at Maggy, eyes wild. "Nerd girl! You're coming to see the boss. Even if we have to step over every last person here."
Maggy set her jaw. She stepped forward, letting her staff materialize with a twist of her wrist — polished wood banded with silver, runes pulsing softly. "I'm not going with you, Thomas. But if it's that important, I'll hear you out right here. Who is this boss of yours?"
For a moment, Thomas only glowered. Then his mouth split in a proud, almost manic grin. "Seeker," he said, the word as heavy as a thrown gauntlet.
A chill crept down Maggy's spine, icy fingers wrapping tight. "I see," she managed, and took another step forward, gaze fixed on Thomas.
He smirked, misreading the look. "Yeah, figured you'd get it. You're not as dumb as you look. I work for the real power in Halirosa now."
Maggy's blood thrummed cold and hot all at once. She kept walking, closing the distance between them — but as she moved, six points of fire flickered into being around her, tiny suns spinning lazy orbits in the air.
Thomas blinked. "Wait, what are—"
Her sparks zipped forward, each one homing in on a thug behind Thomas. The air snapped with the scent of scorched spirit energy as thin shields of ice flashed up — Thomas's hands moving in practiced, but panicked patterns. The sparks struck, and the world roared into flame.
Explosions blossomed: not lethal, but more than enough to send bodies tumbling. The thugs howled, scrambling in the dirt, their bravado replaced by panic and confusion.
Maggy's staff flared in her hands, the runes along its length igniting with golden light.
Thomas reeled, eyes wide with rage and shock. He thrust out his palm, and a needle-thin rapier of glimmering ice condensed in the air, so cold it misted the surrounding air. "Fine," he spat, "let's do this the hard way."
On the steps behind her, Ann let out a whoop. "ABOUT TIME!" she howled, and she ran down the stairs, hopping multiple at a time before Johan could stop her. As she neared the street, her body warped and blurred — bones swelling, muscles surging, skin rippling into thick brown fur. One moment, a fierce redhead; the next, a massive grizzly bear charging down the stairs with a roar that rattled windows.
The thugs barely had time to regroup before Ann barreled into them, scattering them like tenpins.
Sister Audrea only sighed, then stepped off the top step, her hands sweeping up. Pavement cracked, chunks of stone rising at her command, swirling in a lazy orbit around her like moons.
Bartholomew gave Thomas one last sad, measured look, then, with a ripple of shadow, seemed to melt away, vanishing into the darkness at the edge of the temple grounds.
Maggy's breath came quickly and shallow. The square had erupted into chaos — Ann rampaging through the thugs, Audrea advancing like an avalanche, Thomas stalking forward with his ice blade glittering.
Maggy, every nerve lit with adrenaline, tightened the grip on her staff and silently pled.
Mr. Alpha… please hurry.