Chương 68: B2—Chapter 2: London I

We caught a train from Baden-Baden to Karlsruhe, then took the express to Paris, and from there boarded the Eurostar. The Channel Tunnel ride was more entertaining thanks to Lis, who sat glued to the window, eyes wide at the darkness rushing past.

"You never rode under the sea?" I asked.

"I did."

"So why the amazement?"

"I know such things only from a magical perspective," he said, eyes still on the glass.

"It fascinates me when tech worlds find non-magical solutions." When we finally rolled into St. Pancras Station in London, the station buzzed with voices and accents, and a thick smell of coffee and rain-soaked coats hung in the air. We joined the line for border control. The officer flipped through my passport, glanced at Rue, and said, "Your dog needs to be quarantined."

"Just a second, sir." I pretended to look in my backpack and conjured more documents for Rue. When I checked, they showed Rue had already completed quarantine. The One of the Crowd ability was fantastic; it made life so much easier. We rented a two-bedroom apartment in Greenwich, and Lis went back to his studies while I hunted for workshops.

London sure had an interesting selection: Fluid Art Bear Workshop Bubble Cocktail Making Class Private DJ Class Make a Fascinator Hat with a Designer The workshop listing didn't include a picture, so I had to look it up online to understand what the hell the last one was. Kintsugi Workshop Epoxy Masterclass Raffia Workshop Rigid Head Weaving Just in case, I Googled that one and didn't book it until I was absolutely sure it involved textiles.

By the end of it, I had a list of fifty workshops, and Lis looked like he would vibrate out of his skin from excitement. I put together another list just for him with workshops I'd already attended. He couldn't help himself and squeezed the breath out of me with a bone-crushing hug. Laughing, I clapped him on the back. And that's what we did for the next three months: workshop day, study day, repeat. I finally finished the book on spell construction and moved on to one about magic basics.

This one was just as wordy. What was wrong with these wizards? Every book about mana and magic turned into endless paragraphs about things that could be summed up in a sentence or two. Three days into studying the new slog, a book flew past my head and smacked into the wall.

"Scrag take you and shit you as fertilizer," Lis half-roared. My head snapped toward him, stunned. Lis stood there fuming, hands clenched, the book he had thrown lay open on the floor.

"How," he growled, "am I supposed to learn anything when these two theories contradict each other?" He snatched up another book and shook it.

"This one claims gravity is a force acting on matter. The next insists gravity is not a force at all, but space bending like some drunk leviathan rolling in its sleep. Which am I meant to trust? If I build something based on the first model, the second one tells me the entire premise is wrong." He ran a hand through his hair, glaring at the book.

"And do not get me started on these quantum scribbles. One book swears the world is smooth and predictable if you know the variables. The next claims that nothing is predictable, everything jumps, and reality only behaves when you look at it. What am I supposed to do with that? How can I build something if the engineers claim the universe itself cannot decide whether it prefers continuity or chaos?" He smacked the book against a table and kicked the other one.

"Great Spirits, I cannot understand how your bridges stand. It is a miracle they do not twist into some confused scribble of timber and metal." Yeah, studying was hard, but at least we had a blast at the workshops. For the first month, we still had to wear masks even though the COVID scare was already over, but everything else was a hoot. At the swing dance workshop, I realized I was way more graceful and in control of my body than before. Watching Lis, though, made it clear I still had a long way to go.

Lis fell in love with sushi and kept the skill. The next day, he dragged me through stores gathering supplies, and for a week, we ate sushi for every meal. Eventually, I told him, "If you eat it three times a day, you'll end up hating it. Pace yourself." I was back on cooking duty and ecstatic about it. There's a limit to how much sushi you can eat.

Between workshops and study days, I kept half an eye on the news, but it was full of the aftermath of armed riots in various cities and countries, along with the debates that followed, especially regarding gun laws. After getting depressed every time I turned the TV on, I stopped doing that and just willfully ignored the news. At a belly dance workshop, twenty women in jingling hip scarves turned to look at us, curious and surprised. Two older women gave us the kind of look you'd give an apple with half a worm.

At first, the reaction confused me, but the other women's enthusiastic smiles and supportive comments cleared that up fast. They assumed Lis and I were a couple, which didn't sit well with the sour pair, but seemed to delight everyone else. Lis leaned closer, his voice low.

"Why the opposite reactions?"

"They think we're lovers." I jerked my head toward the two disapproving women.

"Those two have a problem with it. The others are compensating by being extra friendly." He nodded thoughtfully.

"Is this something viewed negatively in this world?"

"By some people, yeah. Not everyone," I said with a shrug.

"How is it elsewhere?"

"It varies between worlds, and even between countries or kingdoms in the same one," he said, watching the group with interest.

"I once traveled to a world where the king had an official male consort and a female concubine for heirs, while in the neighboring country, same-sex relationships were punishable by death. Some worlds view it negatively, others ignore it, and in some, it is considered natural."

"Like in advanced or backward worlds?"

"No," he said, shaking his head.

"It has nothing to do with progress. Some societies, you might call primitive, are open to every variation possible, while others, considered advanced, pressure everyone to conform. Sometimes it is religion, sometimes tradition, sometimes neither. People vary, and so do their beliefs. When you travel, you encounter many views about relationships, not only same-sex pairings."

"Like what?" I asked.

"In some worlds with more women than men, or where women hold more authority, it is common for one woman to have several husbands. In places where the opposite is true, one man may have several wives. Some worlds have women with harems instead of husbands, and some have men with harems instead of wives. As I said, it varies."

"Are there other types of family groups?" I asked, fascinated.

"Certainly. Two men and a woman, or two women and a man, are common arrangements. In others, there are larger family groups with four or five partners who share both partnership and parenthood." He shifted his weight, lowering his voice.

"There are also worlds where women raise children independently or in groups. A woman may conceive with a man but raise the child alone or within a community of women who share the responsibilities."

"Seriously?" Lis nodded.

"There are even worlds where families are not bound by gender roles at all. People come together based on connection and build homes, raise children, and share their lives in whatever structure suits them. Love is fluid in such places, not limited by expectation." He straightened, his tone softening.

"In my travels, I learned people will always look for connection, one way or another. Each world interprets it differently, yet the need for connection is universal." His words kept running through my mind. It made sense. I had always seen relationships as something fixed by Earth's customs, but hearing him describe so many variations made me realize how flexible they could be, shaped by culture, need, and the people involved rather than any set of rules. Lis gave a nod, as if he could read my thoughts.

"One thing remains true, no matter the world," he said quietly.

"People will always find someone to build a life with, one way or another." That conversation stuck with me for a few days and reshaped my view of many things. I was never a bigot, but I did have some fixed ideas about relationships. Lis made me re-examine them. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

After the Limoncello Masterclass workshop, I decided I quite liked the stuff and kept the skill, hoping other worlds would have lemons or something similar. Four weeks later, after the Make Your Own Scrunchie Workshop, Lis and I stepped out of the small craft store, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows on the pavement. Lis held up his creation—a faux-leather scrunchie adorned with small metal pieces. He gave the scrunchie a bemused look and waved it around.

"Earth keeps surprising me." I chuckled, watching the scrunchie flutter in his hand.

"What makes you say that?" Lis slowly shook his head, still looking at the scrunchie.

"Two hours dedicated to crafting… hair adornments. Where I come from, such an endeavor might seem frivolous, yet here, it is embraced." I laughed, nodding in agreement.

"Yeah, I guess it is a bit odd when you think about it." He tucked the scrunchie into his back pocket and chuckled.

"And I must say, embracing the unexpected is refreshing. Earth may be strange to me, but it is endlessly intriguing." We continued down the street, the scrunchie workshop becoming yet another quirky memory in our growing friendship. While visiting a pawnshop to sell some of Lis's and my jewelry, a nearby antique store gave me an idea. Looking left and right to make sure I was alone, I took out a sword, conjured ownership papers, and walked in.

The documents didn't say the sword was made on Earth, but they described, in professional language, when and where comparable materials and smithing techniques were used. The workaround was sneaky, but technically not a lie. After studying the sword and the papers, the seller offered me £1, 000, and I accepted. When I got home, I took out all the weapons from my Storage. Luckily, I did it while standing in the hallway's doorway. Otherwise, the swords would have cut me into ribbons.

We didn't have a living room anymore, just a pile of weapons stacked halfway to the ceiling. Lis ran in, stopped at the doorway, and stared.

"That is a rather extensive collection."

"Yep."

"Why do you have so many weapons?" he asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe.

"When traveling in Shimoor," I said, picking up a rusted dagger, "I saw a general store selling old swords for nothing. I bought one, cast Restore, and it went back to its original state. So I bought their entire stock. After that, every town I passed through, I picked up the cheap old weapons. In every capital, I visited the blacksmith and bowyer districts and bought their damaged pieces for next to nothing. I've been restoring them bit by bit."

"And what are your plans for them now?"

"I thought I'd conjure documents for them to sell at an auction house," I explained, and picked up another weapon. He nodded thoughtfully.

"Do retain at least one of each type for yourself."

"Why?"

"I am not certain if you have noticed this, but with the Guidance, more is better. You are pursuing a fighting class, and it would benefit you greatly to become adept with as many weapons as possible. I promised to train you with the sword, and I can also instruct you in knife fighting. You already have Archery, so broaden your skill with the other weapons."

"I have staff fighting, too," I told him, returning an axe to the pile.

"Did you use points to buy it, or did you master it through hard work?"

"I trained in it."

"Very good. Then continue with any type of weapon or unarmed combat you can find a class to learn. Mastery in these areas will ensure that your class develops as effectively as possible." Lis went back to studying, and I kept sorting. I gathered the weapons already restored to perfect condition that would look too good to sell as antiques, the ones in terrible shape that would cost too much mana to restore, which I couldn't afford right now, and the different weapons I planned to learn, and stored them separately.

After setting those batches aside, I sorted through the rest. Most of the weapons in the second group were in average condition, so I restored them, but not fully. I wanted to save some mana and didn't want the weapons looking too new. I fixed each one just enough to show its use without leaving it damaged or falling apart, cast Clean, and set it aside. The entire process took me over two months, with breaks to regenerate actively.

On Earth, my regeneration was three points per minute, and with active regeneration, it was five per minute. The mana amounts were too low. At least my channels were slowly expanding, and soon I'd be ready for another spiral. I moved on to the bows and leather armor, set some aside for me, and restored the rest the same way, adding in some of the Shimoorian arrows. By the time I finished restoring everything, I had 512 items, not including the arrows.

Most of them were melee weapons and shields, with some bows and leather armor thrown in. During this time, Lis and I grew closer, and our dinners together became an everyday tradition. We always found something to talk about, often laughing until we had tears. One day, he came back from a workshop he attended on his own with a PlayStation. From then on, after dinner, we played and laughed even more.

For a moment or two, I thought I would have an edge on him, but the first time he trashed me in Tekken, I realized high stats were good not only in life but with a controller as well. Occasionally, he let me win. Let being the operative word, but most of the time, he kicked my butt. Yes, it was disheartening sometimes, but the games were so much fun that I didn't mind. The closer we grew, the more I noticed how Lis expressed himself physically.

He'd touch my hand for emphasis while talking, hold my arm to direct my attention, give me a solid pat on the back, and if I made him laugh, he'd tousle my hair with a friendly grin. A few times, after I helped him with something, he slung an arm around my shoulders in a quick, casual hug, and once or twice pulled me into a bear hug. The first few times this happened, I felt a flash of discomfort. An unease I couldn't quite place.

Physical affection between men was rare outside a handshake or a slap on the back, so his gestures felt too personal. Each time, I'd stiffen slightly, unsure how to respond and feeling a bit out of place. At first, my brain immediately tried to overthink what it meant, and I worried it might mean something more. But then I started paying closer attention to Lis's demeanor. There was no hesitation in his actions, no hint of awkwardness or implication beyond friendliness.

I could tell by his easy laughter and the way he treated others around him that physical affection was as natural to him as breathing. It was simply his way of connecting and showing friendship. Also, his appreciation of every beautiful woman we saw helped me internalize his intentions were pure. The more I thought about it, the more I realized Lis came from a different world. No, from many worlds. Each with its own customs, values, and norms.

Clearly, some of them didn't share Earth's hang-ups about physical contact between men. For Lis, those casual touches weren't romantic; they reflected kinship and camaraderie. A way of saying, "we are friends." And when I thought about it, I asked myself a few uncomfortable questions. Why was it okay for two women to be openly affectionate, hugging, holding hands, leaning on each other, with no one batting an eye, but when two men did the same, it suddenly carried a weight of suspicion or judgment?

Why the double standard? We were all people, so what did gender have to do with basic human closeness? I remembered Sophie and her best friend, Susan. They hugged every time they met, touched each other's arms when they talked, and leaned against one another on the couch. No one saw it as odd. Lis acted the same way with me, minus the constant hugging, and yet it made me question everything. Was it a religious thing?

I wasn't religious and hadn't grown up in a religious household, so I didn't have a straightforward answer. Okay, that wasn't entirely true. I had spent time in a couple of foster homes run by hardcore Bible-thumpers, but those were short stints. One family called me "the spawn of Satan." The other called me "the creature." I didn't exactly take spiritual guidance from people who treated me like I was a thing instead of a person, so I dismissed their views as the ramblings of the deeply unhinged.

But even outside those experiences, in supposedly normal homes and schools, there was still this subtle yet ever-present bias. Boys were expected to stay distant and act like they didn't need affection. People framed affection between men as suspect, or somehow "wrong." But why? Why was human connection judged based on what you had in your pants? With a sigh, I realized Earth still had a long way to go before it could call itself enlightened.

Too many people clung to illogical taboos, never questioning their origins or why they persisted. Once I understood that, Lis's gestures no longer made me tense up. I even started returning them now and then, nudging his arm or clapping him on the back when I agreed with something he said or felt grateful. I still had some old hang-ups to work through, but little by little, they stopped bothering me. After a while, it just felt normal.

After preparing all the weapons I wanted to sell, I concentrated and conjured documents for them. I wanted proof they were mine, ownership history, and some documentation about the weapons. It cost me 3, 000 mana, and I got a stack of documents half as thick as a phone book. The paperwork claimed my great-grandfather started the collection, and my grandfather expanded it.

There was documentation for each item, including the workaround of historical records, a will in which my grandfather bequeathed everything to me, and documents proving that I paid all the taxes on the collection. It was good that the ability took that into account; the taxes hadn't even crossed my mind. I found a short-term rental warehouse, bought fancy boxes to store the weapons, packed everything so it wouldn't look like an enormous pile, and took a cab to Christie's.

At Christie's, I approached the receptionist and asked, "I have an extensive collection of medieval weapons my grandfather left me in his will, and I want to sell them. Who do I contact about this?"

"Wait here. I will call the weapons appraiser." She picked up the phone and made a call. A few minutes later, a man in his fifties wearing a costly suit arrived. He spoke briefly with the receptionist before approaching me with a warm smile and an extended hand.

"I'm Parker Walker. Pleased to meet you." I shook his hand firmly.

"John Ripper, nice to meet you."

"I understand you have a collection of weapons for sale?" he inquired, glancing at the folder in my hand.

"Yes, I have all the documents here." He led me to an office off the main lobby and gestured for me to sit.

"Would you care for tea, coffee, or perhaps something cold to drink?"

"I'm fine, thanks," I said, settling into a comfortable chair.

"May I see the documents?" I gave him the folder, and he meticulously reviewed each document for the next hour. I watched as his expression grew more and more pleased by the minute. After reviewing the documents, he looked up with a broad smile.

"Christie's would be delighted to host your auction. How shall we arrange the collection of the weapons? Are they still in the United States?"

"No, they're already here in London. I can hire a truck and bring them over tomorrow." Parker shook his head and smiled.

"There's no need for that. We'll be happy to provide transport services." I signed a sales contract with Christie's, gave them the warehouse address, and we agreed they would collect the weapons the next day. A few days later, I saw an extensive article about the "Ripper Collection" and its historical importance. I felt uncomfortable because it wasn't historical, but then decided that if someone spends money on a weapon to hang on the wall, they can afford it.

I also found it amusing that my last name fit the collection's theme. After all, you had to be a ripper to use all these weapons. While waiting for the auction, I enrolled in the London Longsword Academy for side swords, longswords, daggers, smallswords, and rapiers. I also trained at Schola Gladiatoria in HEMA, sabre, and cutlass.

After that, I made a list of everything else I could find for future training: Battodo, Kenjutsu, spear and poleaxe, sword and shield, grappling, knife and axe throwing, MMA, Muay Thai, and Eskrima. A while later, while going through school and dojo listings, I found more interesting classes and took those as well. If it involved a weapon or fists, I took it. The collection sold for a little over a million pounds after Christie's fees, leaving me shocked and thrilled.

I continued training almost daily at various schools and dojos while Lis studied. He finished all the books I gave him, and I handed him the next batch, which was even larger. Sadly, he didn't react to the amount; just thanked me and went right back to studying. His reaction was disappointing. I wanted at least one wide-eyed gulp, but no such luck. I consoled myself with the fact that at least I'd made a ton of money.