“My lungs feel as if I am running a road roller through them,” John wheezed, trying his darndest to keep his lungs from being rejected by the rest of his body.

“Stop smoking then, weakling,” Magnus mocked him. His stern tone made it sound harsher than it was likely meant to be. “And don’t draw it into your lungs. That isn’t a cigarette, that’s an 1842 Geralson.”

Over the past two hours of engaged discussion and whisky-sipping, John had ended up ordering a cigar himself. It was a truly decadent move, a waste of more wealth than most people earned in a month on a thing he just wanted to test out while he was tipsy from equally pricy alcohol.

Interestingly, he discovered that the whisky tasted better after his mouth had tasted the cigar smoke. It was too bad that came alongside that absolutely horrible piece of burning, rolled plant matter.

“If you don’t finish that cigar, I will sabotage your next IBMA,” Magnus threatened. “You are smoking history.”

“History sucks then,” John retorted, partly just to rile his friend up. While he succeeded, the Fateweaver scoffed, he did not get any entertaining rage. “You and your self-control.”

“Yeah, Magnus, live a little!” Maximillian chimed in, pouring whisky into the air. Rather than dropping to the ground, the glass worth of amber fluid was pulled into a swirl that led up to the centre of Hawpler. The sapient black hole that was the gravity mage’s contracted elemental had decided that he wanted to try some whisky.

There was a tingling at the back of John’s mind that it, perhaps, wasn’t wise to subject a magical gravitation well to alcohol. He was too busy teasing Magnus to care, though.

“Rather than chide me, perhaps you two should reign in your excesses,” Magnus returned and downed his seventh glass of whisky. He quickly followed it up with a glass of water and a huff of his cigar.

“As you say, as you say,” John rolled his eyes. There was a moment of silence as all three worked on their respective cigars. The Gamer coughed, Maximillian seemed rather unimpressed and Magnus leaned back with absolute comfort. “I’ve been meaning to ask: any interesting research recently?”

The Fateweaver tapped his cigar against the ash tray and glanced over to Maximillian conspicuously.

“You might as well say yes, buddy,” the gravity mage laughed. “Hey, if it’s classified, you can talk about it tomorrow.”

“It’s de-classified now,” John said. “Tell me.”

“…You sure?” Magnus asked. “It’s a big deal.”

“Am I sure that I, John Newman, President of Fusion and guildmaster of Collide, have the authority to de-classify whatever I want? Pretty sure, yes,” John stated. “If it was such a massive thing, you would flat-out refuse to talk about it.”

Magnus hesitated. “Truth be told, I want to brag about it.”

“Go ahead and brag then,” John invited and took a sip of his whisky. Anticipatingly, Max did the same.

They were halfway through their respective sips when Magnus, quietly, said, “I found a way to make Mobile Barriers without Fateweavers present.”

“”PFFFSSSSSHHH!”” the two younger men on the table spluttered their high-cost whisky into the air, followed by them coughing so intensely they almost fell from their chairs. Glasses and ashtrays rattled on the table, while they held on for support. “”W-what?!”” they stammered out in unison.

Illusion Barriers were a steadily developing technology. They had started with Gaia, giving everyone in the world the ability to call on her power to create a space away from mundane eyes, where Abyssals could take their supernatural conflicts. Even if the power to create small parallel dimensions was strictly borrowed, some people were more talented at exerting and maintaining control over them. Those barrier specialists would eventually become so sophisticated in their manipulation that they invented the Protected Space, Illusion Barriers that stuck around even if no one was inside them and that didn’t meld with others in the same area. Later on, they developed Fateweaving, a technique to manipulate the makings of a barrier to translocate people inside them a moment before they sustained lethal wounds. The last major invention was the Mobile Barrier engine, which allowed a Fateweaver to maintain an Illusion Barrier on the move.

Magnus took a calm huff of his cigar. It was the last one that one had to give and he pressed it down into the ashtray to give the two of them time to calm down. “I said it was a big deal,” he kept his voice down.

“Scratch big deal, that would revolutionize Abyssal traffic,” John answered, ecstatic but keeping his tone similarly quiet. He looked to Maximillian, who also stared back to the Gamer. His expression spelled out that the gravity king would have been fine if they dropped the topic there. Trusting his friend was one thing, revealing details another. The worst damage, short of handing over the research documents, was already done though. “How have I not heard of this yet?”

“It’s not in a worthwhile state,” Magnus revealed and tapped on the table. “The Mobile Barrier is no larger than this and not stable for more than 15 metres. I haven’t told my father yet. For the moment, it’s only my research.”

“How did you do that though?” Maximillian wanted to know, then waved off. “Don’t answer if you shouldn’t.”

“Tell me though,” John demanded and leaned forwards, so Magnus could whisper in his ear.

The Fateweaver obliged, and a moment later, he revealed. “Remember the 5 grams of the Collimets that you gave me?” John nodded. It had been a drunken bet during their last poker game and the Gamer had kept his promise. “I managed to do it with them and a World Gem.”

“I see,” John said and leaned back. “Not exactly fit for widespread public use then.”

“Not as it stands,” Magnus nodded.

“That makes it less exciting,” the Gamer calmed down considerably and returned to what remained of his whisky. Because Fusion was investing so heavily in the next generation of Fateweavers anyway, limited access to Mobile Barrier generators that didn’t require their input was a niche without real benefit. If the state, the only entity which had a considerable number of Mobile Barrier engines at the moment, needed a Fateweaver to accompany a mission, they could get one.

It was the average person that could benefit heavily from this. Everyone having access to their own Mobile Barrier vehicle was an immense increase in freedom of movement. Transport prices for goods would also drop if all it took to keep a ship in a permanent Mobile Barrier was a machine. All of that was only valid if the price to create a Mobile Barrier engine was lower than it was to raise a capable enough Fateweaver.

Given the necessity of World Gems and Collimets, that was absolutely not the case. It was too costly to deploy in widespread use and seemed to have no additional benefits. If this allowed Mobile Barriers to benefit from time dilation, then that would have been an argument to bother to make some. As it stood, there was nothing there.

‘New technologies are often initially inferior to their predecessors though,’ the Gamer thought. ‘The bow was used quite a bit before the musket had become reliable enough for widespread use.’ “Whether this develops into something splendid or not, that discovery will make it into the history books of Fateweaving,” he said. “Incredible find, Magnus.”

“Incredible indeed,” Maximillian backed up.

The usually stern man grinned widely upon hearing that. He hid it well, usually, but Magnus was all too aware that he was the adequately talented son of an incredible man. Whether he would ever reach the same heights as Magoi remained uncertain, but this, at least, must have given him the feeling that he was a worthy successor. “I do what I can,” he tried to be humble.

“Tell me if something more comes of it,” John said. “I officially re-classify it. Here, a gift from your superior.” Graciously, John offered his barely touched cigar.

Magnus took it without complaints. “I’ll save this historic cigar from your unappreciative hands.”

“You save me from throat cancer while you’re at it,” the Gamer teased.

“Cancer,” Maximillian laughed. “Who cares about cancer in the Abyss? Brain aneurysms you could have a problem with, but if it’s any long-term health problem, the Apothecaries probably have a fix.”

“Depends on the source, I would guess,” John chimed in there, poking Maximillian’s bad foot with his own.

“True enough,” the gravity mage conceded and reached for the bell at the end of the table.

“How are you dealing with your limp?” Magnus asked, perhaps worried John had touched a proverbial nerve.

“I would be lying if I said I’m content with having it,” Maximillian openly disclosed with a shrug. “It is what it is though. I’m still holding out for a miracle cure, but if I have to go the rest of my life with a cane, I’ll manage. It’s a pretty minor inconvenience, considering I can fly.”

“I must point out,” Hawpler interjected, his voice as if someone had forced the backdrop of a drum and bass song into vocal form, “that you cannot fly. You can stand on objects which you can make fall sideways.”

“It’s close enough,” Maximillian said and rung the bell. “I need a new whisky, what about you gents?”

“Same,” John confirmed. Magnus just nodded. While they waited for the bartender, the Gamer continued, “A miracle cure would be really nice. Having my eyesight back would be really nice.”

“Your magical sight is better than ours anyway,” Maximillian pointed out.

“I could use both at the same time,” John retorted. “I’d just like to wake up in the morning and look at my girls with my own eyes… dunno, there is no effective difference, but it bothers me sometimes. Tangentially related, I talked to Lee about how I don’t like faking how my eyes look.”

“Why do it then?” Maximillian asked.

“Because I like the milky look even less,” John explained. “Also, people look at me funny when I have them out. It makes interactions awkward.”

“That is fair enough, I guess,” Maximillian said. “Anyway, away from our cripple status and hello to the beautiful maiden here to bring us our drinks.”

Hera reacted to that by blushing before she could even stop by the table. “Stop it,” she responded, her expression making it clear that what she said was actually the last thing she wanted to happen.

“I’m afraid you would have to make me,” Maximillian hummed and smiled. “Sadly, it would take a longer talk to convince me of that than your work would permit us to have. Perhaps we should take a moment later this week?”

“I’ll think about it.” Hera put on a highly professional demeanour and looked at them. “Do you have an order?”

They all just requested one more of what they had already had, continued their conversations for a little while, and waited for the bartender to return. Soon enough, she was back. “The service here is magnificent,” the gravity mage complimented. All he got in return was a view of Hera’s shoulder while she bowed down next to him to place the glasses on the table.

Once she was gone, John said, “Someone has been given the cold shoulder.”

“If you want to call total success the cold shoulder,” Maximillian hummed and waved with a slip of paper Hera must have quietly given him. He put it into his breast pocket.

“Another promiscuous conquest for you then,” John conceded, disappointed he couldn’t poke more fun at him.

“Speaking of promiscuity,” Magnus stared at John, “you mentioned you spoke to my sister?”

“Purely platonically!” The Gamer realized that he reacted suspiciously quick too late and one of Magnus’ eyebrows shot up in response. “Urgh,” John reached for his whisky and took a sip. “Whatever. Why try to hide it,” he mumbled to himself. “Magnus, your sister wants to sleep with me.”

“…You begging for a slap, John?” the Fateweaver growled. That he was the older brother of two sisters was written all over his face. Despite their power difference, Magnus might actually try to land that hit, if John said something else so poorly formulated.

“I’ve done nothing to deserve it,” he returned.

“Yet,” Maximillian added and giggled when both of the other two men on the table gave him a silencing stare. “Alright, alright, solve it between you two. I don’t have a dog in this fight,” he said, holding his freshly filled glass like a bag of popcorn.

“We had a gaming session on Tuesday. I haven’t laid a hand on her,” the Gamer clarified what had happened. “I’m trying my best to respect you and your parents’ wishes, but she is not making it easy for me. She’s way too adorable and flirtatious.”

“You barely know her.” Magnus grasped at the first argument that came to mind.

“Are you telling me that your sister is a secretly horrible person?” John instinctively tried to put his friend on the defensive in this argument. Only after he said it, did he realize that the alcohol was making his tongue a bit too loose.

Luckily, Magnus wasn’t someone who immediately reacted passionately. Slowly sipping from his water, maintaining eye contact the entire time, he only spoke when the glass hit the tabletop again. “Don’t play these rhetorical games with me, John.”

“Fair,” the Gamer conceded with an apologetic nod. “It’s just… look, you definitely have a point that I barely know her. My initial interest comes from one quick meeting, but we did talk over the course of seven hours on Tuesday and that did not help things on my side.” The Gamer sighed. “More talks won’t make that better. You should know, things with you and Nina started the same way.”

Magnus groaned and ran a hand over his combed hair. “I want to say that’s different, because I only have Nina and you already have a harem so you can’t possibly love another woman properly. I do know you better though.”

John was thankful for that degree of trust. “I won’t pretend I’m not interested in her, I clearly am. If you want us to stay platonic, you have to tell her that though.” Shaking his head, the Gamer looked down at his hands. “I’m a weak man when it comes to attractive women, but I have a modicum of self-control. As long as she doesn’t flirt with me every time we meet, I can keep my hands to myself. With the way things currently are, me rejecting her continuously will be stressful for me and hurtful to her.”

“Gaia, I was afraid this could happen,” Magnus grumbled and massaged the bridge of his nose. “I just didn’t think she would take an immediate interest to you.”

“Seems like she had an interest in me before she even came over,” John told him what he understood the situation as.

“What do your girls even think of this?” the Fateweaver asked in a desperate tone. It sounded as if he was trying to unearth any angle with which he could talk John out of this.

“Apparently Lee has been hanging out with all of them over the last week.” John raised his hands defensively. “Had nothing to do with me. She just took Jane’s offer to show her around and things cascaded from there.”

“…It is how it is then…” Magnus let out a really long sigh and leaned back in his chair. “I won’t lie, I don’t think my sister is making the smart decision, becoming part of a harem. I don’t have any right to stop you though.”

“Well, it’s never been about the right,” John presented his view on the situation. “I have the right to eat a turd for breakfast every morning. You not associating with me because I stink like shit is the problem. I – Fusion cannot afford losing you and your father.”

“So, you’re just keeping it in your pants because of politics?” Magnus asked.

“Politics, economics and respect for you two,” the Gamer laid down. “I wouldn’t just immediately budge if you removed the first two reasons, Magnus. You are my friend, I’m not just going to…” he lacked for a delicate word, “…engage with your sister without trying to smooth things out first. I will be completely honest though: the attraction is mutual. I’m only a man. At some point, I will reciprocate her advances. Expecting anything else is moral tyranny.”

Magnus growled. Not at John, just a deep-seated sound of general frustration while he rubbed his forehead. “Fine, I guess,” he waved off, having nothing to retain his position with. “I don’t like it, but I will get over it as long as she is happy.” He took his glass and emptied it in one gulp. “You better do this properly.”

“I always do,” John attempted a joke.