Isekai’d Shoggoth - Chapter 125. We’re done here, people

“…This will change the world as we know it.” – viscount mutters huskily, turning the tablet in his hands cautiously – “The sheer utility of having a scribe, a calculator and a messenger right in your pocket… Three men’s worth at a mere handful of gold and a bit of copper every now and then? Gods…”

Three men… Oh, right. Contemporary “calculator” means a man trained in mathematics, not a device. It would be funny to introduce arithmometers after that. I mean, I have already given dwarves the rundown on mechanical calculation, but… On the other hand, they seem to be more interested in adapting the principles for industry mechanization. Fair enough, I suppose. Tablets, for all their benefits, do require a person operating them, as they are heavily based on illusion magic. Outputting numbers to mechanisms will have to be handled in a somewhat different manner. Oh well. No reason for me to mimic the tech tree of my original world in its entirety, magic does allow for a lot of interesting shortcuts and sidesteps. Note to self – figure out some sort of programming language and API for these things. I do have some tentative plans for the gaming industry, so if what me and dad planned for subverting Dragele to our alliance does pan out, it would be interesting to give him the building blocks and see what kind of games he will output. Maybe I should work up some starter examples, instant communication MIGHT raise a gambling industry pervasive enough to literally eat the upper class.

And on that note, I do believe we are very much done with la Vallieres. Good grief, it’s just one thing after another. First this delusional jackass, then Louise drops the whole “I can see you are an eldritch abomination, I just don’t understand what I saw” on me, then Eleanor having a nervous fit… Granted, I did treat her to a whole lot more paranoia than she expected, but it’s not really paranoia if they are out to get you, damnit! I am so done with this…

“Pardon me, lady Gillespie? A moment of your time?” – someone says from behind me, and I barely manage not to snarl. I’m DONE, for… argh. For fuck’s sake, what is up now? I turn around, plastering a polite smile on my face.

“Yes?” – I ask… and Cattleya takes a hasty step back, then another. Followed by everyone perking up and taking a step back from me. WHAT!?

“A.. er… I’m sorry, I…” – she stammers – “…I mean, you are probably tired after all this, I shouldn’t be bothering you with idle requests right now, I, I…”

WHAT!? And that’s when I catch the glance of my palm… and it’s covered in scales. Whoops. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, count to ten, open them. There, back to normal.

“My apologies.” – I tell her as serenely as I can manage – “Today was just one thing after another. I’m a little on the edge.”

If her VERY nervous smile is of any indication, I’m probably not quite back to looking as serene as I hoped. Oh well. Let’s just… push on. “I believe you wanted my attention.” – I continue, taking my time to make words paced and calm – “Do tell what was it you had on your mind, would you kindly? Given the hectic pace of this day, I make no promises to address whatever is that you wanted to discuss immediately, but I do believe I can at least be courteous enough to find out what it was if nothing else.”

“…I’m terribly sorry for my ill-considered timing.” – she babbles – “It’s just that… I happen to be in correspondence with squire McGregor, and in the last letter to me, he had raved about the exotic weaponry he had received from you as a gift. I just wanted to ask if it is possible to commission some of that selection for my own use, as I have a vivid interest in martial arts and squire McGregor had been most effusive in his description of rare arms.”

My tension trains as if someone pulled a plug from me. Good grief, only that?… Phew. If everyone’s reactions are of any indication, this smile of mine comes out with a lot more warmth than teeth.

“Ah. That.” – I drawl slowly – “Most of what he got from me is not really going to be produced a lot, being simply recreations of weaponry from far orient and other remote lands, but I do believe it would be eminently possible to custom order anything out of his haul from the Grand Forge. I did pass the designs to them a while ago. Do tell, what had caught your attention?”

“The crossed bow.” – she proffers immediately – “Squire McGregor had claimed that the size of it is of a saddle crossbow, and yet the force of bolt is more akin to siege arbalest.”

Oh. The pulley crossbow? Yeah, I can see how it would be impressive. That’s a little complicated, but easy enough.

“I see.” – I muse – “That one I assembled myself. Not that hard, but finicky. Easily the most mechanically-complicated object out of the whole gift.”

“I, well… I do dabble in enchantments, and I was very curious about how could you possibly pack so much power into such a compact frame without making it all but impossible to recock the crossbow.” – she babbles on, making me snicker.

“No enchantments.” – I tell her, eliciting a doubletake.

“But… how?” – she whines, fidgeting. Wait a moment. She is actually holding a bow behind her back? Just… Hm. No arrows. So what she wanted was to see how I “enchanted” the crossbow and crib some ideas to improve her bow, is that it?

“Why don’t you give me your bow so I could just demonstrate?” – I take pity on her. It would be easiest to just quickly fit some pulleys on her toy and leave her to figure out the basics of archery. I’m pretty sure she would be stuck figuring out how pulleys improve things for a while.

Aaand… she drops the bow with a clatter. Then turns around and bends to pick it up quickly, passing it over to me with a blush. I wonder. Was that a genuine moment of clumsiness, or all of that was just constructing an excuse to wiggle her ass at me? I’m going to treat it as genuine clumsiness for now. While her ass is definitely worth a look, I have little reason to believe she’s even into girls, to begin with. Not to mention that I just… don’t really feel like it. As in, at all. I mean, sure, from a purely aesthetic point of view, Cattleya rates at “8/10, would fuck”, but I just don’t feel any particular urge to go for it. …I AM, however, suddenly struck by a mental image of pining Moon Unit to the bed and sucking on her tongue… Darnit. Now I’m gonna feel horny. I’m not talking to Moon Unit right now, not Moon Unit, no… AAArgh. While I was trying to put THAT image out of my mind, Roxolane snuck in there to tease me. ARGLBARGL, I shouldn’t be lewdly daydreaming about my harem in the middle of the conversation, damnit!

“Well then.” – I muse blandly, as I look over the bow. Nothing special. Honestly, I’d be better served by working from the scratch. Now if only I could STOP thinking about lewding my wives! Cattleya is notably surprised when I give her the bow back without doing anything to it. She is even more surprised when I wander over to the firewood stockade and start pulling out chunks.

“Find me some iron?” – I suggest idly – “Preferably rusty. A bunch of old nails or a few discarded horseshoes should be good.” Dad facepalms at me. Viscount la Valliere wordlessly puts a hand on his shoulder and pats. I don’t hear exactly what he is saying to dad, but apparently, it’s words of commiseration on having gifted children. Whatever. Steam this, I need to separate the resin from the fiber. Now segregate carbon out of fiber… Hm. Nitrogen can just go, I’ll bind hydrogen and oxygen into water, leave the excess oxygen to go into the atmosphere. Now, let’s see… Ah, folding carbon into tubes is actually stupidly easy when you can just define an atomic grid on a whim. So I’m going to use buckytubes as fibers, make a neat mesh, cast resin around them and here we go, carbon polymer tension elements. And pulleys. Now cure them like this, ooh, it’s nice, and a handle… Hrm. Oh, Cattleya is here, how convenient. I take her hand and match the handle against the palm, shaving the wood to fit the relief. Hm, now a little more resin here, mix some ash in to be a nice matte varnish, slot the tension shoulders, now set the pulleys, fill the axle cavities with fullerene pseudoliquid, that should take care of lubrication just fine, now seal it up, and finally the string, hm. Melt, strand, braid, make a finger pad here so she does not cut her fingers on a braided metal cord, now loop it up and merge, hrm. Should be good.

Aaand why is she staring at me bug-eyed and rubbing her palm and blushing? Why are both our dads facepalming? What?

“Aaa…. eeeeh?” – she posits eloquently. Thankfully, her mother is on the ball, because I’m not really fluent in “embarrassed maidenese”. Karin puts a hand over Cattleya’s shoulder and gently but insistently turns her around.

“Eyes up here, young lady.” – she demands lightly, but firmly – “Count with me. One, breath… Two, breath… Three, breath… Four, yep… good girl. Five… Six… No, it’s just Alyssa. Seven… Yes, it happens to many maidens, eight… Niiine… Ten, yes, it’s normal and does not mean you are utterly lost for men, no. Just a moment of, well, lascivious confusion.” She turns still red Cattleya around and makes her face me. “Go ahead and take the bow, but don’t touch lady Gillespie’s hands, or you’ll need to count to ten again to calm down.” – she advises – “Goodness, Cattleya, this is what truly does it for you?”

“AAAa…. She… fingers… make… Nnn…” – oh dear. What the fuck is going on? Did I accidentally give Cattleya some kind of, um… hand fetish? Or something?

“Ah, I see. Impressed by magical crafting?” – Karin offers – “It was a sight to behold, yes. Now why don’t you try the bow that was just made for you and tell us all what you think?”

Still tomato-like in appearance, Cattleya nonetheless obeys and very gingerly takes the composite bow out of my hands. It has to be said she does not need to be told how to use it, grasping the handle customized for her palm just right. A servant (when’d this guy come in, I totally missed him) offers Cattleya an arrow, which she takes and notches on, starting to pull on the bowstring. It, apparently, goes easier than she expected, if her jerky motion is of any indication. Her fingers slip off the string by the time her thumb is just past her nose, an arrow leaving the bow with a bassy whistle. Nabad, nabad, that is a decent speed for an arrow out of a bow. Might actually pierce something. But she really needed something sturdier for a target. A pumpkin, already sporting several arrows stuck in it, receives the shot dead center… and the arrow passes clean through the gourd and disappears in the shrub behind it.

“….Oh gods.” – Cattleya offers tremulously, looking at the bow with wide eyes – “This is…” Aaaand then she blushes hard and looks away. What?… Oh. Oh lol. I have accidentally woven lewd imagery into the fiber weave. When the tension shoulders bend, it looks like… yeah, well. Let’s just say that it is softcore erotica by my standards, but might be… lewd by contemporary consideration. Then again, I doubt the locals would believe I had the precision to embed an image of a naked woman into the laminate on the go. Still… I have a hunch that I will be known as the creator of “Lewd Bow” among other titles from now on.

I am immensely thankful that Karin takes over the rest of the conversation. She thanks me, promises that Cattleya would treasure and take care of a newly created bow and that Cattleya’s own impressions and thanks would be delivered to me later in the written form once Cattleya regains some semblance of wits after this experience. All I can think of, however, is that I want to do naughty stuff to my wives ASAP.

___

“Mistress, are you… mmmpfff. Mnnn….!” – and I close the door behind myself absentmindedly as I push Bridgit into the cabin and continue kissing her… Phew. Much better. Not ideal, because I still want to start ripping her clothes off instead of straightening them up gently and letting her go, but this will tide me over for a while, at least. I leave dazed maid behind and briskly proceed towards the control station to finally get away from this place before I’m again waylaid by something weird… Darn it. While I was momentarily occupied, gendarmes boarded. And they’re giving me the “well daym you playa” looks for some reason. While dad just looks exasperated. What?

I decide not to think about it too hard. Instead, I nudge the buoyancy slider upwards, sending the zeppelin into a gentle climb. No reason to hurry this time, so why bother everyone’s stomachs and ears unnecessarily? And since it’s going to be a while before I’m anywhere near the altitude where I would need to correct the course, I aboutface and proceed towards the big cabin further in, which I use as a primary living space for me and my girls. Note to self – perhaps the reason gendarmes are eyeing me like this is because I pushed Bridgit into the nearest cabin, instead of taking her along to the one I am actually using. Not that it matters, as the rest of them are just not occupied at the moment.

“Alyssa, what is mmmmpf.” – this time, it’s Lily-Anne who catches the brunt of my mood. She was about to call me, I surmise, and therefore was standing in the doorway. Was being the keyword, because I lift her up, kiss her and proceed into the cabin without pausing. Moon Unit gives me one glance, chuckles and pats the bed, while Roxolane blushes scarlet for some reason. Oh, the door. Yeah, I heel it closed just in time for Bridgit to pop in.

“Oh my.” – is Moon Unit’s assessment, as she leans in to relieve Lily-Anne from kissing – “The girls got you all hot and bothered, Alyssa?”

…Maybe, come to think of it. In the end, it takes a good quarter-hour and thorough kissing and groping of my entire harem before I calm down enough to not be… brisk.

“…I’m sorry, everyone.” – I offer, scratching the back of my head – “I’m pretty sure no one was actually trying to seduce me back there, but by the time we actually got to leave, I just couldn’t stop thinking about the lewd things I want to do with you all.”

Lily-Anne’s brow cocks. “Us?” – she teases – “You’re sure?”

I grumble. “I know! I’m weird!” – I complain – “Just now, Cattleya was bending over and wiggling all over the place and all I could think of is how nice it would be to grab Moon Unit and kiss her breathless. The moment I pushed the thought back, Roxolane comes up instead and, just… argh! I have no idea why, even!”

I give up and whine outrageously as they pat me. I have no idea why I’m suddenly so horny for my girls, there was NO reasonable trigger at all. I can’t even blame la Valliere girls for teasing me, because I didn’t even think of THEM to begin with. Goodness gracious, just… why. I mean, I’m all about enjoying my harem, I really am, but suddenly getting so horny it impacts my reasoning? That’s kinda sus. So… In spite of wanting nothing more than peel my harem out of their clothes, I pick up the chalk and ruler instead and start scribbling the seal for a complex scanning spell on the floor.

___

“That fucking asshole.” – I seethe, as I rub my shoulders – “I am sorely tempted to start looking into resurrection spells, just so I could kill him once more.” The pats I receive for this are a lot less teasing than usual. There is a reason for that. The delusional transmigrator asshole? Well, he was apparently also an aspiring rapist, because all my tests come up with the notion he attempted to deny not being attractive to me. Given his troubles in using his power creatively, I’m more than a little shocked this was actually a thing he did. Somehow this utter jackass did NOT figure out the “I deny being hungry”, but he still had the fucking gall and cunning to do the “I deny me being unattractive to Alyssa” pretty much two minutes into the conversation. It didn’t work RIGHT, obviously, but the effect still made me irrationally horny. If the part supplanting the OBJECT of my sexual desires also worked, I’d be in trouble.

Still, it does explain everything that happened in the estate. Normally, I’m more diplomatic. I think. I hope, at least. Somewhat. A smidgen. But being preoccupied with feeling horny and not realizing what it is definitely took a toll on my usual countenance. I think Bridgit updated dad on the situation in the meanwhile because she pops out for a bit after I’m done swearing and comes back just now.

“Mistress, are you well enough to speak to your father now?” – she inquires. I sigh, stand up and go over to the door, stretching out as I do. I… Wait a moment. I backtrack to check myself in the mirror. Dressed? Yes. No wardrobe malfunctions? Nope. Hair mussed? A little. but not too bad. I’m good, I guess. Coming out now… Wait a moment.

“Bridgit, where IS my father, exactly?” – I clarify because it’s not out of question he decided to commandeer one of the empty cabins. Lord’s privilege and all that. I am glad I asked when Bridgit indicates he is using the cabin I dragged Bridgit in just recently. Awk-weird. Oh well. At the very least, I did purge the foreign influence on me rather thoroughly.

I come out, catch a lot of “oh man, I wish I was THAT good” looks from gendarmes (At least I think that’s what the looks are. That or rank jealousy.) and proceed to the cabin.

“Hey dad. Back to thinking state.” – I report lightly as I come in.

“Are you certain?” – he inquires with a grin – “I was rather surprised to see my little dragony making an appearance.”

“…your WHAT?!” – come on, what else could I say?… what does he even mean, dragony… Oh. Oh noes. Oh NONONONONO! All of my nope!

“It’s been years since you’ve done that, you know?” – he proceeds to commit the most horrible sin any parent possibly can, namely reminisce fondly about my toddler foibles. Granted, in this particular case… I never had the reason to peruse those particular baby memories before, but apparently, when I was VERY little, like learning to walk little? I would “dragon up” each time I felt upset or threatened. Scared the everloving shit out of mom and dad when I did that for the first time, I believe, but they somehow managed to look past the “our baby becomes progressively close to dragon depending on how upset the baby is”. Apparently, I kept that habit until I was about seven or so, and it was common enough that dad has his pet name for me when this happened. I am, apparently, “his little dragony”, and goodness gracious if this does not hit alarms in my mind. Because given what I’m doing, friendship is magic is not gonna roll… Or maybe it will, but I also have good chances to trigger stuff like lesbians is magic or business is magic or… Yeah, well. Let’s just say I have grown out of the age when I’d want a pony. Which is kinda fortunate, considering I can totally buy a pony on a whim now, and I’m mighty thankful I did not have such whims. With my luck, I’d end up buying Pinkie Pie, and that’s when shit is gonna get epic.