Machinist of Mana

Grandfather and I sat in one of the many reading rooms aboard the ship, the papers before us held as the vessel swayed gently in the sea. He'd taken a number of notes on the engine here and the one in the train and though they were not particularly different there were some effects of size. The ship's engine was so much larger, and required so much more magic that it really was limited to shorter journeys. Mostly it went between the continent and Exion, or up and down the shore carrying passengers who could afford such luxury.

“So do other ships have the same sort of engine?” I asked him as I poured over some of the documents, it really was impressive how exact of parts magic could make. Many of these looked like they'd come out of a modern machine shop not a quasi-Victorian society.

“I'm not entirely sure what's most common my boy, but I believe that older variants are used. Some of the ones without magic are definitely still running supply trips.” He made a move like he was reaching for a pipe that wasn't there and frowned, the smoking areas were pretty limited onboard.

It was frustrating just how restricted my life was. Sure, all of my needs and most of my wants were met, but there was just so little information available on some subjects to me. The nobility lived in an isolated world, unable to truly see what else was out there. It wasn't because we couldn't get the information, but because nobody cared to look, to ask, to seek answers. Without something like a search engine and the internet it wasn't there for easy pursuit.

Perhaps I could have talked to people of different social groups or professions, but that was easier said than done. From the way I spoke to the way I'd learned to hold myself I radiated 'fancy' in a way that most people would detect. There wasn't even a good way for me to learn the way the poorer classes spoke because my family would refuse to let me near such people. Even if I could they'd not be truly honest as soon as they realized that I was a noble, lest they bring down someone's wrath upon their heads.

“There's so much I don't know,” I griped.

Grandfather laughed heartily. “My what a complaint. Enjoy the feeling lad, for how boring would the world be if you knew everything? Mysteries are what spice things up. I live just to see what will come next, what new thing will appear. Doesn't it bring you joy?”

After a few seconds of thought I realized he might have a point. “I like the learning, but hate that sometimes it's hard to find what I want.”

“That's half the fun. When we get to the city we'll have plenty of time to go to libraries and the Society meetings, I'm sure you'll find things there you never expected.”

While I'd expected the latter the former hadn't really occurred to me. I'd come from a time when the good old fashioned library had fallen from style, replaced by the internet. Would they let me in? Well if grandfather was with me almost certainly so, though there might be a problem.

“Are you sure mother will let you take me off to look at books?” I queried.

“Oh after what you did to her with the trains I think she'll agree,” he snickered, mother was still avoiding drawing me into any more discussions in places she couldn't escape.

Before too long we'd arrived at our destination and I was hurried off once more. Here grandfather and I had to split, as he was going to their home. It wasn't far from our own city house, or so I was told, so he could visit, but he had things that needed to be set up himself. After wishing him and my grandmother well I headed to our carriage.

“Do we have any plans for tonight?” I asked mother as we clattered along down the road, passing storefronts and masses of people who were all too eager to get out of our way.

“Unpacking Percival, though tomorrow you'll get to spend some time with your paternal grandparents,” mother answered without looking up. “You never get to see them.”

That was fair enough, and while I didn't really know my father's family well they seemed nice. Perhaps if we lived in the city I'd know them better, but maybe this would be a good chance. As I was getting older my parents were finally letting me have more and more exposure to the world. Maybe they'd even come to some of the tourneys or meetings with me, if they were interested at all. If not, perhaps some other thing could be arranged.

We pulled into the house and as always the servants were arranged in the entry for inspection. It seemed this was a tradition designed to inspire terror, and if it wasn't it certainly managed to regardless. The men and women who worked for us were all ramrod straight, dressed in perfectly prepared uniforms or work clothes.

Over the last five years there'd been a few changes, but very few. Good help was hard to come by as they said, and once you had someone you trusted you hardly wanted them to leave. Add to that that working in a noble's house was a fairly good gig as I understood it and turnover was sparse. There were a few changes though.

Our old cook had retired. She'd gotten married or something and had been a bit older for her profession, so she'd left us, one of the younger cooks taking her place. This of course meant a bit of a shakeup in the kitchen, leading to the girl who'd been terrified of my mother all those years ago taking on the position of baker herself. Sinea was still young too, so if she continued she might one day be our, or someone elses head cook.

Mother's inspection found a new addition, a boy working as a runner and aide to the staff downstairs. After her normal inspiration of fear into the lad, who was around my age, she continued onwards. I however stayed back for just a moment.

“Anything good in the oven for tonight miss Leeds?” I asked Sinea. A conversation which had become sort of a tradition of its own.

“A couple of new pies, recipes that I got over the last season that I think you'll like my lord,” she replied. She always did try to find something new.

“Excellent, well I'll not keep you any longer then,” with that I left, knowing that the staff really couldn't get to work until I did.

Over the years I'd developed a bit of an attachment to some of the staff, and Sinea was only below the top place because Mrs. Lutte had my half-sister at home. I'd gotten to watch the former grow from a terrified girl afraid of being sent back to a work house to a young woman competent in her profession. It was gratifying to see, and while she still had a bit of an accent from her younger days it was clear she was trying hard to speak properly around the family. That alone would make it heaps easier for her to find a new job should something happen, and even improve her marriage prospects, should she choose that route.

After some basic unpacking of my own, and changing up some of the smaller things around my room I headed to dinner. It was still a bit formal, with my mother not wasting time with her normal acts of conversation and making sure that I was following all of the rules of etiquette. There was a surprise though at the end when the pies were brought out.

Most of them were the normal styles, sweetened meat pies or fruit pies, but there was one. I'd not seen any pecans in this world, but there were other nuts, and this particular pastry could have fooled any southern grandmother of Earth. My heart sang as I took my first small bite, loving that it reminded me of my former home. Sure, the taste wasn't exactly pecan pie, but it was close, and that alone was enough to make me love it.

“I take it you like that one?” mother asked with raised eyebrows.

“Quite so. You should try it,” I encouraged. Now if I could only find somewhere to get a decent plate of pulled pork, then we'd be in business.