A Trinity of Blessings Upon a Wonderful World!
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Axel, Town of Beginnings
Kingdom of Belzerg
Date unknown
“A three-for-five exchange rate,” Takara growled. “Cheap, miserly, stupid people—I never thought I’d miss the goblins . . . I ought to flood the market, see how you like it then . . .”
It had been a long time since she’d had to dust off “The Rules for Rebuilding Your Life When You’re in Another World,” but even without Occlumency, she recalled enough of them to realise what to do first: get legal tender. This was fairly easily accomplished, given that she had been at King’s Cross, with several Galleons in her pockets, and all of her gear did seem to have come with her—unfortunately, her wand seemed to have stopped working—
No, Takara corrected her thoughts. That was wrong; it was as more as though the very nature of magic had changed.
It was odd. None of her spells were working, despite there being no visible damage to her wand; Apparition failed her, as well. And yet, the expanded spaces of her coat pockets seemed to have no issues—the rose pendant hanging between her breasts was still keeping her comfortable in what now seemed to be summer heat, instead of autumn chill. And she could hear the faint thunder of Melinoë rumbling in the back of her mind; not in its typical warning sense, more of a reminder that the blade was there . . .
Which would have been strange, but she was somewhat used to the sword’s quirks by now—though whether they were a result of the usual effect wizardry had on things, or of the usual effect that Galen and Shirou had on things, Takara had never quite decided.
In any case, her sudden inability to use magic (as she knew it, anyway) only made maximising her survival advantages all the more important; to that end, she’d found a moneylender willing to pay out in local currency based on the weight and metal purity of the Galleons she had, rather than their assigned value as legal tender—at a rate of three for every five she gave him, apparently, which was irksome, to say the least. Still, for now, she had funds; now, it was time to look for a market of some form, and see if she could get an idea of their actual worth—and if that moneylender had cheated her any more badly than he had with the devaluation . . .
If he did, I’m breaking out the Philosopher’s Stone and turning this place into New El Dorado . . .
. . . Right after I find a private place to throw up—God, I hope this morning sickness passes soon!
Bringing a hand to her mouth, Takara made an effort of will not to vomit, focussing on the cold metal band against her lips. Once she felt she had it under control, she pulled her hand back, and stared at it—the wedding ring on her finger.
Unlike a lot of her jewellery, it wasn’t magical in and of itself; not beyond charms to prevent damage to the ring or her skin. There weren’t any fancy touches to it, aside from its actual make, given that it was a band of platinum-coated steel. Given Hermione’s issues with gold, after all, and Galen’s “known” issues with silver (at least, until they’d managed to publicly release a cure for lycanthropy), they hadn’t been able to use the more common choices in metal . . .
That, and the fact that we all loved the symbolism of the rings from that old fantasy novel that Galen talked about when he suggested it, she admitted.
Right now, though, Takara really wished the ring could tell her whether or not her spouses were alive and safe—she wanted them around to hold her hair in another few minutes, but she’d settle for that much, at least.
Please, please be OK . . .
Crimson Magic Village
Kingdom of Belzerg
Date unknown
“So,” Rin said slowly, “this wasn’t you.”
“No, Rin,” Ilya sighed. “It wasn’t me.”
“But the only people who remember the Wizarding World stuff are people who had their memories restored before, which at least implies a level of Kaleidoscope influence . . .” the dark-haired witch—sorry, “Archwizard,” now—mused, trailing off in thought.
“With one or two crucial exceptions, Darling,” Luvia pointed out, sniffing in an offended fashion (that wasn’t entirely feigned) at being overlooked.
“If you two are about to get into another one of your legendarily house-wrecking hate-sex sessions, then leave mine, first,” Ilya said flatly.
Rin flushed crimson, and Luvia wasn’t quite fast enough in pulling out her fan to hide the pleased little smirk on her lips at the sight, nor the wicked gleam that combined both amusement and lust in her amber eyes.
Ilya would normally agree with the sentiment, even if she didn’t find it as arousing as the Edelfelt heiress did—old habits die hard, she supposed—but she was more concerned about figuring out how the HELL this had HAPPENED!
Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Ilya tried to focus on the positives. She and her family were still alive; her husband, their parents, their children, all of them. They had sufficient money to live comfortably, and a relatively quiet and safe place to live. And, they still had magic. True, it was the weird kind of magic that only worked in anime or video games—usually based on manga or light novels with ridiculous premises (and more often than not, terrible writing)—but they had it.
On the other hand, we live in a medieval world, in a village inhabited by wizardry-obsessed Taigas, and I have NO IDEA how or why we GOT HERE!
Her fuming was interrupted by Shirou’s appearance. “The kids are all corralled; Mom’s looking after them . . . And Dad says that after some subtle questioning of Aunt Ciel, she’s a ‘retired crusader’ of the ‘Eris Church’—does that mean anything to either of you . . .?”
He was polite enough to address it to all of them, but his eyes lingered on her. And that only made sense, really—if something weird came up, there was a good chance knowledge of it was buried somewhere in Galen’s skull; which meant, of course, that there was a copy of it sitting in her brain, too.
Ilya closed her eyes—ignoring Rin and Luvia’s thinking aloud about Greek mythology—and cast her thoughts back . . .
“. . . God damn it,” she exhaled at last. “Probably literally, since this is almost certainly Aqua’s fault—and Galen’s . . .” Ilya stopped, frowning, as she abruptly remembered that Galen was almost certainly too old to fall under Aqua’s influence, and added uncertainly, “Somehow.”
Axel, Town of Beginnings
Kingdom of Belzerg
Date unknown
Galen sneezed abruptly, suddenly feeling that, for some reason, he ought to feel insulted.
It was an unexpected distraction from watching Hermione eat her first actually digestible meal in almost a decade—though frankly, given the near-orgasmic sounds she was making, not a necessarily unwelcome one.
Luna’s beaming countenance turned his way, her smile edging into “creepy serial killer” territory as she amusedly took in his own reaction—and even the fact that he was sure she was doing it on purpose didn’t quite take the unsettling element out of her expression.
“. . . You are taking entirely too much entertainment from my suffering,” he muttered to her.
Luna blinked—and then, with suddenly-wide eyes and an innocent tone in her voice, asked, “I thought that was what it was for . . .?”
Galen stared at her for a beat, before bowing in submission. In mock-Vader tones, he proclaimed. “Your training is complete—I have taught you well.”
“Some of that is more Ginny’s influence,” Luna remarked, “but point taken.” Turning to Hermione, she asked, “Are we ready to look at our ‘Adventurer Cards?’”
The older young woman (though she actually looked the same age as Luna did, which was much younger than either of them were) washed down her last bite and nodded, brushing a strand of hair back over her ear—
And then stopped, and redirected the errant lock over said ear’s newly-acquired point.
Hermione’s new species made an abstract sort of sense, Galen supposed. In keeping with the usual fantasy tropes, neither Aqua nor Eris were tolerant of the undead, so they wouldn’t have brought her over “as was”; indeed, given her dependency on British soil, it would’ve been a death sentence if they had. At the same time, Hermione had never technically died, and thus qualified as “simply” cursed—which allowed for some wiggle room in its interpretation.
Of course, the nearest thing Galen could think of with “cursed” blood was a tiefling—a being with demonic ancestry somewhere in the distant family tree (which, given the presence of succubi in the setting . . .)—and the goddesses didn’t like them, either. Elves, however, were a stated thing in KonoSuba as of the fourth light novel: “forest elves” with pointed ears, and city-dwellers who lived so long among (and presumably, bred with) humans that they had rounded ears, but were still “elves” as a race—and so were Dark Goddesses . . .
As such, Hermione’s apparent reincarnation as a dark elf was unexpected, but not theoretically unfeasible.
Is this the universe’s way of making fun of Hermione, because she’s always the outsider in terms of culture (“Muggle-born,” then “vampire,” now this), and still hates sunlight—or me, because I had a crush on Eilistraee when I played Forgotten Realms?
Regardless, it meant that Hermione was now alive again, and aside from the pointed ears and now-white hair, looked mostly like herself, if bronzer-skinned; in true anime fashion, her “dark” complexion was more of a deep tan, much like she’d had after coming back from France for their third year at Hogwarts . . .
Hermione herself glanced at him while lowering her hand from her ear and shot him a Look. It stated without words, I might not be able to read your mind any longer, but I still know how you think—and we have more important things to worry about right now!
Duly (if silently) chastened, Galen turned his attention to Luna’s original request.
Getting their Adventurer’s Cards had been relatively easy, once they’d asked for directions to the Adventurers’ Guild. Registering had been expensive, but the Guild had taken their Galleons in trade weight (being a multi-kingdom organisation, they were used to trading currencies) and both Galen and Hermione had made a habit of carrying ludicrous amounts of money on their persons. Between expanded spaces and the Fidelius Charm, the risk of theft was minimal, after all . . .
Still, actually filling out the cards had caused something of a stir; apparently, they all had remarkably high stats for beginning adventurers. Luna’s Strength, Agility, Vitality and Luck were all “above average,” and her Intelligence and Magic were even more so. Hermione’s stats were a bit higher, overall, to reflect her greater experience, but with a slightly different arrangement—apparently, being an elf cost her in Vitality and Strength, and a dark one had a penalty in Luck. But even so, her Agility and Magic benefitted from her new race; her Vitality also recouped a little bit from the “dark” aspect, reflecting their nature as survivors.
Still, if she hadn’t spent so many years getting and keeping herself in shape as a human, she might have been a great deal frailer—something they were all thankful for.
Both of them had qualified for the “Archwizard” class right off the bat—a rare feat for a single individual; Luna had then been noted to qualify as an “Archpriest,” as well, which was apparently unheard of . . . By comparison, Hermione’s having a high enough Agility to qualify for the “Thief” class was almost tame—though the receptionist had noted that her Luck wasn’t high enough to make it an exceptional choice.
Then they’d tested him; Galen had thought the receptionist was going to have a stroke.
“. . . Above average Intelligence, thank Eris,” she sighed. “I don’t think I could handle having three Archwizards in a r—ANOTHER EXCEPTIONAL MAGIC SCORE?! And your Luck is even higher!” Her eyes scanned the card frantically, and she wailed, “I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW VITALITY WENT THIS HIGH—AND YOU’VE GOT ENOUGH SKILL POINTS FOR TWO OR THREE LIFETIMES . . .!
“WHAT KIND OF MONSTERS ARE YOU PEOPLE?!”
He never had found out what kind of classes he was qualified for; by that point, it had seemed best to just leave and let the poor woman calm her nerves.
Aloud, however, Galen said, “It’ll probably help if we had a native walk us through it—hang on . . .”
Scanning the room, he didn’t see any of the KonoSuba characters. Sure, if Aqua was still running things, as Luna indicated, then she and Kazuma were out; however, Megumin was apparently looking for parties a while before they showed up, and she and Darkness (or better yet, Chris) were locals. Failing that, he got up and looked at the job request board—if there was somebody looking for a party . . .
He felt it just as his eyes hit the notice: the sensation of being watched with laser-like intensity. This world might not allow him access to his dire wolf form any longer, but experience with those primal instincts—to say nothing of mortal combat—still gave him the ability to aware of that kind of thing. Galen grabbed the notice from the board, and the sensation flared in his awareness. Surreptitiously, he glanced around, even as his eyes seemingly never left the page in his hand.
There. A pair of glowing crimson eyes, disturbingly focussed on him—and with a blink, he realised just what and who he was looking at.
Jackpot!
With a deep breath, Galen steeled himself and exhaled in relaxation . . . Before walking over with a smile on his face.
“Excuse me, miss—is this your party notice . . .?”
“M—Me?” Yunyun squeaked, turning as crimson as her tribal name implied. “Um . . .Well . . .You see—”
“Because my companions and I are rather new to this area, and this system of categorising things,” he said smoothly, “so we could really use some help in understanding it . . . ” He offered the girl his hand, and said, “Besides, it never hurts to make new friends.”
“F – Friends?!” she squeaked. “You want to be friends? Friends with me?”
“You seem like a nice young lady, so why wouldn’t we?” he offered.
What followed was an interesting sight: Yunyun somehow managed to literally sparkle with happiness, while bawling her eyes out . . .
Takara stiffened suddenly as she straightened up, and Mirai puffed up as well, pausing from where she’d been poised to reclaim her perch across Takara’s shoulders. Witch and familiar (former or not) traded looks.
“. . . He’s done it again, hasn’t he?” she asked the cat.
Mirai huffed, her tail twitching in irritation.
“Come on,” she beckoned the black cat, which leaped into her arms without hesitation. “Let’s see if we can find out what kind of stray’s been adopted this time . . .”