Tristan

After the endless-feeling wait, Tristan and Sophie grabbed a room to work on their respective projects.

Perhaps surprising only to Tristan, the process for attaching the clasp to his magical storage back was not easy. For starters, the instructions had been written very sloppily. It suggested to Tristan that the avian wrote just as quickly as he spoke. Still, Tristan had hoped for better. There were also sections where the ink had been applied in multiple colors, and it took him a while to recognize why some things were written in blue, or red, or green. He eventually grew to appreciate the effort, as it showed the relationship between different parts that were later connected, but that didn't change that the initial reading still left him feeling a bit overwhelmed.

It wasn't until he'd spent an hour trying to decipher the blessed thing that he was willing to admit that he was outmatched. Only then did he risk interrupting Sophie to ask for help. The astralist had been working just as tirelessly as he had, except she was focused on completing the ritual circle for resummoning Mister Biggs. Naturally Tristan felt a bit guilty disturbing that.

Somehow they'd both been able to put most other distractions out of mind, even the racket coming from the inn's common room. Their two-bed suite was at the opposite end of the building, but that still didn't put nearly enough distance between them and the loud noise.

Apparently this particular inn, on this particular night, was hosting a special event where patrons of all levels of drunkenness were taking turns going up on stage and singing "songs." Of the ones Tristan had heard while checking in, only a few had been remotely on-key. Not that it mattered once the audience started singing along.

"It's no bother at all, Tristan," Sophie acknowledged, moving away from the nearly-finished circle. "I'm happy to help you. You're part of the team, too."

Sneakers seemed content to keep watching them both from a perch on the bed's headboard.

Sophie added, "Though I'm not really sure how much I can help here. This all looks like madness to me," she said, pointing at a few of the multicolored pages Tristan had splayed out around the room. "But I'll do the best I can."

"I'll take whatever I can get," Tristan admitted. He knew his frustrations had been growing for a while.

Sophie eventually fell into the role of translator, deciphering the avian's at-times-alien script and helping him gradually assemble the parts that would--he hoped--become a clasp and handle he could use.

Even like that, the process took hours. If this had been something he'd known better, like sword smithing, he felt that he could have done it in mere minutes. If only the bag had come with metal bits, or something he could easily affix the clasp to! Clearly, that was not remotely the case.

Even with Sophie's aid, Tristan was still having to study each scribbled step multiple times. There were no diagrams at all. Instead, endless words covered the surface and bled together--except of course for the steps that involved manipulating the bag itself and were literally labeled "CRITICAL! BE CAREFUL!" The rest of the time, every bit of instruction was written out... and he was quickly learning just how tricky words could be.

It felt like half the time he was merely guessing, while the rest was spent hoping his interpretations proved correct--or scrambling to reorient his approach when not. His only saving grace was that every single part, no matter how small, was tagged and labeled with letters. Once they'd discovered that, it was quite easy to tell all the parts apart.

There were still only so many times he could "Insert tab of J into handle of W" before he needed a break. He had three days to finish everything, he rationalized, so there would be nothing gained by rushing through the process and potentially mucking something up.

It was late--or rather early the next morning--when he decided to call it a night. He could still vaguely hear the loud "singing" from the common room below, but once he allowed his focus to drop, he realized that he was too tired to care.

"Thanks for the help," he called over as he pulled the sheets over his eyes. "I hope getting Mister Biggs back goes well."

He was pretty sure Sophie must have replied, but honestly, he was asleep before he could decipher whatever it was.

- - - - -

That night, Tristan's dreams took him back to the raid. It was almost like reliving each of the fights, except certain key details were wrong. For starters, they apparently chose to fight the first two bosses separately, and for some reason all of their minions were oozes. Then, on the Hydra, the three planned necks were chained. Without the bonus loot, Manama didn't get the eldritch cat.

On Cinderbark, the cat somehow popped out of Kitara's shadow anyway and started attacking the mighty tree, so they failed to keep the willow above the necessary health threshold.

In the fight against the Heart, there was never an issue with the taunts. Laura never lost an arm. But since they attacked the heart and lost the tree, they didn't get to fight the water demon either.

What felt like small, and sometimes ridiculous, changes at first ended up causing far larger ripples, with the end result being that it all felt oddly unfulfilling. He hated it, and he woke up not feeling very rested at all.

Unfortunately, he was also very awake. His brain was already churning and considering the next steps he'd need to do to upgrade his bag. According to his [Clock], he'd only been asleep a handful of hours. Since I'm up, I might as well get back to work. Use the time wisely.

He did his best to move quietly back toward his makeshift workstation, but only a few steps in he stopped, realizing that there was now a huge, dark, furry form resting on the floor. Its deep and rhythmic breathing might have been soothing had he not been so completely surprised by it. In the limited early morning light, Mister Biggs was casting some unnerving shadows. But Tristan smiled as he tiptoed around the big astral.

I wonder how long ago she finished resummoning him.

Figuring that it must have been fairly recently, given how long she'd said the ritual could take, he made certain to make as little sound as he could. He even took care not to rustle the instruction pages whenever he checked them.

After finishing assembling the first handle of the clasp, he found the process much easier the second time around. He'd apparently learned enough to make the whole second assembly in just under an hour.

"So how are you going to attach them to the bag?" Sophie asked, and even though her words were a quiet whisper, her seemingly sudden appearance right behind Tristan made him jump, crashing into his workstation.

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"Oh, hey! How long have you been up? I hope I didn't wake you."

"No, you didn't. And I appreciate you letting me sleep."

Tristan nodded to the slumbering astral. "Glad to see he's back--and alright?"

"Yeah, he's doing fine now." She seemed to study what he'd accomplished for a few seconds. "What's the next step? Still need help?"

Tristan sighed. "Honestly, I'm not sure if you even can, given what I've got to do next. It's time to merge all the bits."

"With your enchanting?"

"Yeah. Egg's notes here say that it's something I can manage with [Augment], but I haven't ever..." He trailed off, shook his head, and started shuffling through the pages, looking for one in particular. When he found it, he nodded to himself. "Yeah, here it is. OK. It looks a bit complicated, but I'm not gonna make excuses." He rolled his head around his shoulders, loosening up a bit. "I do things I've never done before all the time. This will just be another to add to the list!"

"Yeah, and it's getting to be a pretty long list," Sophie said with a nudge to let him know she was teasing. "While you do that, I'm going to go downstairs and see about getting us some food. I'm still feeling drained from that ritual."

Tristan acknowledged her but didn't really turn or take his attention off the page before him. When he looked at it carefully, it was saying that if he held the bag at just the right angle and positioned the first handle just so...

Now that he was using his enchanting, he got lost in the crafting, and the world around him melted away.

- - - - -

Tristan leaned forward and carefully, delicately, lowered the final handle into place. His breathing was perfectly measured and controlled. He wouldn't even exhale in the direction of the project, especially with as close to done as it was. This would be the first time he'd tried to use [Augment], and he wanted to control as many variables as possible.

The countless worried warnings from the avian tinker still repeated in his head, as did the "BE VERY CAREFUL WITH THIS STEP!" note scrawled in big blocky letters beside what the pages proclaimed would be the final step.

Tristan steadied his hand, not permitting the final handle to move even a bit. He'd made sure it was perfectly aligned with the other. He'd made sure the clasp would open and close properly from this orientation. He'd even added loops so that he could strap it around his waist or across his chest if he wanted to. All that remained was to join the two into one.

This is it, he thought, trying to keep his focus on his intent as well as his actions. Just merge the final clasping handle, and hopefully that's enough of an upgrade that the bag will become Soulbound.

He knew from several of Tempy's lessons that intent and mentality often mattered just as much as the materials used. Turning his head as far away from the bag as he could, Tristan exhaled, then took one last, deep breath. Everything had to go as perfectly as possible.

He activated his [Augment] skill and let it begin to guide the flow of his magical essence from his own personal Source into the bag. He had extra arcane dust in a bowl to the side in case he needed it, but thanks to his Core, he was pretty sure he'd be fine.

Thin strings of essence flowed from his fingers into the bag and handles. Little by little they were pulled tighter and tighter together. He was not tying or cinching them; there was nothing temporary about this binding. He could feel his essence melding the two edges, joining them, and creating one product.

His fingers started to feel prickly, which grew even stranger as they also became quite warm, just like the Source within his chest. He kept feeding more essence into the process, however, trying to feel for any sort of maximum or cap as there had been with the other enchanting skills. It surprised him, then, when rather than arriving at a feeling of "fullness" as he had before, this time the items found a sense of "oneness" instead.

He was so shocked, he sat back and gave out a short laugh as his [Identify] revealed his success.

[Endless Bag of Secure Holding (rare)]: [Endless], Soulbound

A magical storage bag originally given as a prize, but modified and greatly upgraded to offer additional security and endless storage capacity for items you own.

He'd really done it. At first, he got stuck on the fact that it was "Soulbound," meaning he should be able to use it. But even more incredible was the [Endless] affix this bag had gained. Whether his Core was responsible or it was an intended result of the process Egg had instructed him to use, Tristan wasn't sure. He was ecstatic about it though. This bag completely outclassed his other bag now, no matter that it wouldn't grow. It was [Endless]. It probably couldn't grow any more.

He couldn't help but think back to several times in his admittedly-short adventuring career where he'd have liked to have more convenient storage options--and now he had more than he would ever need.

Don't celebrate yet, he scolded himself. First you've got to make sure it works.

With anxious anticipation, he used the two handles to try and open the bag... and it opened exactly as it should. He closed the bag again and reopened it with no trouble whatsoever.

Such a small thing, but it feels so good to just be able to use it like anyone else could have!

He heaved a big sigh of relief before moving on to the next test: moving one of his items in and out of the bag with just a thought. He decided to use a [Simple Dagger], one of the first items he'd ever made, just in case. He didn't want to lose anything important. But it blinked from his hand into the bag and back just as it should have.

Tristan allowed himself a moment to really celebrate his great success. Then he began organizing all the remaining parts and scraps he was now done with. He put the instructions back in order and, with a satisfied smile, slid them into his magical storage bag.

Even though he'd had the bag for days already at this point, it finally worked with his Core. It felt good to have that extra space available without needing someone else to help. Now he would be able to store his extra sword--and anything else he'd make in the future--without having to worry about physically carrying it on his person.

With great pride, he picked up [Hope's Aspiration] from where he'd leaned it beside his bed and slid it effortlessly into his [Prize Bag of Secure Holding], where it nestled up to his [Heartmender's Shield], the [Repaired Rusted Sword], and the old [Leather Belt] he'd now get to put to better use.

He threaded the bag through the two rings and tightened it around his waist. Now it'll be with me forever, he thought with a smile.

Looking up, he saw that Sophie had left a covered tray on a table near the door. There was also a note, which explained why she and Mister Biggs were nowhere in sight.

Hey, if you're reading this, then you've finished up before Mister Biggs and I could get back. We stepped out for a bit, just to explore the city a little more.

Enjoy the food!

Tristan checked his [Clock] skill and was surprised to find that the merging process had taken him a full hour. Walking over to the tray and lifting the lid, he was surprised at how much food she'd gotten him. A bowl of mixed fruit, a biscuit, three slices of bacon, and a big helping of scrambled eggs. All of it had long since gone cold, but that hardly mattered. The moment his eyes saw the delectable spread, his belly gave its own Mister Biggs-sized growl, and he dove in.

All in all, it was hearty and satisfying. The biscuit was buttery, the eggs were fluffy, and the bacon was perfectly crispy. It was all so good Tristan suspected it either hadn't been prepared in the inn, or they had a chef who should start their own restaurant and serve breakfast all day long. Regardless, he doubted this caliber of food was cheap.

I suppose Sophie's got the means, he told himself, even if it was odd to be able to say that for one of his friends. How long had it been since he'd practically cursed the Longblooms for eating meals like this, when he was satisfied with simple porridge? He forced himself to slow down, not wanting to waste so good a meal. To savor every bite.

It still didn't take him more than a handful of minutes to clean off the tray.

He wondered what else Sophie had been up to while he'd been working. "Out for a bit" could mean so many things. He locked their room and went downstairs, appreciating that the common room was much quieter this morning than it had been the night before. Perhaps that was why he noticed something he hadn't before: the large display of very colorful cards, pamphlets, and brochures by the door.

Well, while I'm waiting for Sophie, I might as well take a look at places we might want to go. I'm not sure how long it'll be before we leave Perpetua, but I'm ready to do a bit of exploring!

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