Ripple In Time - Chapter 5 The City Of Rendon

Did the clock tower have stairs? Probably. Could I have just taken them? Sure. So then why did I jump off instead, risk potentially falling to my demise? Because it’s faster.

I’m not impulsive, just efficient. I enjoy doing things efficiently. And this is all for the sake of efficiency. Now where was I? Ah, yes.

I let out a yelp of excitement as I jump off the edge of the hundred foot tall clock tower. As I’m plunging headfirst straight towards the ground, I feel myself accelerating, as the air whips sharply against my bare skin. My hair flies wildly about my head and my eyes narrow as they begin to water from the extreme wind. A manic grin lies across my face. “Oh shit! This is fucking awesome!”

Ahem, as I said, it’s all about that efficiency. Now, don’t you worry. While I may be spiraling towards an untimely end, destined to become flatter than a Monday pancake, I can assure you that that it is merely how things appear to be. In actuality, I am quite in control. For you see, I did the math.

At my current weight of about forty pounds, jumping from a height of a hundred feet means that I will hit the ground in 2.47 seconds, at which time I will experience a force of impact equivalent to that of being run over by a wagon moving at seventy miles per hour. Now, that sounds bad, and normally it would be for your run-of-the-mill mage, but as you might have already guessed, I am anything but run-of-the-mill.

Since leaving the clock tower rooftop, I have been rapidly gathering gravitational energy from the surroundings and coating myself with it. At the moment, the particles form a thick cloud around my body, awaiting my command. I grin and wave my hand, happy to oblige. “Featherfall.”

Featherfall, a tier five spell of the gravitational branch of magic and one I personally invented. The principle behind it is remarkably simple. In fact, is it no different in principle than the tier three spell, Hammerfall, which increases the weight of a given object by increasing the gravitational force applied to said object. For Featherfall, the principle is merely applied in reverse. That is to say, Featherfall works by casting Hammerfall in the upwards, rather than the conventionally downwards, direction. In this way, Featherfall acts to oppose the ground’s natural forces rather than strengthening them, effectively generating a counterweight. By balancing the potency of my Featherfall spell against the natural forces of gravity, I can easily control the speed of my descent. Simple, though there is just one tiny problem with the way I had cast it, which I quickly discover upon the activation of my spell.

As soon as it activates, I realize I have used too much power in my spell again, like I had done with the Flame spell previously. My lack of intuitive control over the Featherfall spell results in it being too potent and causes me to decelerate too quickly. My body instantly jerks in the air, as if being pulled back by invisible hands. My head lurches upward from the sudden force, giving my body a momentum that causes it to start rotating like a wheel on an axle. I quickly spiral out of control, flipping head over heel again and over again.

For a second, it seems fun. I’m basically doing somersaults through the air. But then the nausea hits, and I suddenly feel like I’m about to vomit. Having enough, I point to the space beneath me and cast another spell. “Burst.”

The resulting “burst” of air hits me square in the chest, with a strong enough force to oppose my current angular momentum, gradually bringing my rotation to a stop. I orient myself feet first, and then a few seconds later, I make landfall, touching down softly on the ground at the base of the clock tower. My head is still spinning, and I take a wobbly step before falling down on my butt. Then I tilt my head back and let out a laugh. “Oh man, that was fucking amazing!” My landing can still use some work, but all’s well that ends well.

I give myself another minute before standing up. Then I glance around, looking to see if anything has changed since the last time I was here. And by last time, I mean the last time I was five-years-old, some thirty years in the future’s past. Geez, that’s a mouthful. Maybe I’ll just refer to it as my alt-past, for alternative past, or my previous time around.

Anyways, having seen the city from above on the rooftop of the clock tower, I know that I am currently standing at the base of Tall Tim, in a plaza called Central Plaza, a creative name, I know. The plaza itself is a fixture of the city of Rendon, a medium sized city of about half a million people, located three hundred miles west of the capital city of Sophia. It is also a city I am quite familiar with, as Rendon is the place I grew up in, in my alt-past. I suppose I can be thankful for this much at least, that the time ripple placed me in the general vicinity of where my alt-self would have been at the time. I shudder to imagine waking up in the Putrid Marshes or worse, The Bureaucracy. Yikes, that would have been a true nightmare scenario, perhaps a bit worse than dying in fact. But I digress.

I begin walking eastward, towards where I know the city center will be. That is where all the shops are and where I will be able to pick up some clothes. As I make my way along, it dawns on me how big everything looks from the perspective of my now juvenile form. The buildings look like castles and the trees look like towers, and I can’t even fathom how far away the sun must be. It is a bit refreshing, a certain different outlook on the world for sure.

Indeed, everything looks bigger. Well, mostly everything that is.

I glance down between my legs, at my “foot”. It’s the one thing that certainly has not gotten any bigger. It’s regressed in fact. But that’s fine, right? I mean, it’ll be a while before it matters, before I’ll make use of it in that way. Not that I used it much in my alt-past. But not that I couldn’t! I’ll have you know, I had plenty of women fawning over my “foot”. I just was always too busy with this, that or the other thing to commit to any of them. It’s not like I had insecurities about my “foot” or anything. I mean really, size isn’t all that matters…l-let’s just agree to move on.

As I enter the heart of the downtown area, the streets begin to become crowded, lined with shoppers bustling about from store to store. As I walk down the sidewalk, I draw more than the occasional glance, as onlookers wonder what unfortunately backwards hellhole I managed to crawl out of. I don’t particularly mind, as I’m used to people staring at me, though it was usually in awe of my fame, rather than in pity of my apparent poverty. But I make due, dealing with it until I finally spot a store selling children’s clothes. Then I make my way inside.

As soon as I step into the store, the owner spots me and comes over. At first, I think he’s going to grovel before me and shower me with praises, as was often the case when I had gone shopping in the alt-past. But then, I had forgotten I wasn’t famous just yet. As the store owner approaches me, his face turns sour, like he has just whiffed a skunk. “What do you what, kid?”

His tone irks me, but I let it slide. “I’m looking for some clothes. You have anything that isn’t so-” I pause and take a quick glance around the store, at the spotted shirts with various colored prints and the pants with frills hanging from the sides. I turn back to the shopkeeper with a sigh. “-anything that isn’t so gauche?”

The shopkeeper raises an eyebrow, surprised by my high-handed language. But then his expression quickly sours once more. He eyes me from head to toe. “You gots any money?”

I laugh aloud. Of course I have money. I’m rich. Unless he meant if I have any money on me, to which I say, why in the world would I carry physical money around like some peasant. Only those used to not having money feel the need to keep it close by at all times. At any rate, I give my usual response. “Just put it on my tab.”

The shopkeeper’s eyes narrow dangerously. “And just who the hell are you, kid?”

The question takes me by surprise. I am again reminded that I am not yet the famous mage I once was. There are people alive who still don’t yet know who I am. It’s somewhat refreshing actually. “My name is Klaus von Steiner.”

“von Steiner, eh?” The shopkeeper lets out a wicked laugh. “So you’re part of that family of scoundrels. Hmph, what happened kid, your father sell the clothes on your back for a quick one? Or did he set you up to come beg for pittance? Pack of dogs, you lot are. Absolutely shameless. You can forget about the tab. I wouldn’t lend money to a von Steiner to save my own skin. No money, no goods.”

You would think the shopkeeper’s words would make me angry, and for a second, they did. But then I remember the time, and I realize that, in this moment in history, the shopkeeper is completely right. In the current time, the von Steiner family has the reputation of being bootlickers. It is an outcast family, a shitstain on the prestine city of Rendon.

Some brief history on the von Steiner family, if you’ll permit. The von Steiner family was one of the ten founding noble houses of the Kingdom of Eperium. As such, it wielded a considerable amount of influence through the country, and at its peak, was only second in power to the king. But generations of mismanagement and incompetence in family leadership, frivolous spending and an uncanny ability for shooting itself in the foot, eventually led to a sharp decline in both family membership and its place in the societal hierarchy. At present, the von Steiner family merely consisted of three members. My father, Hendrik von Steiner, my mother, Abigail von Steiner, and myself, Klaus von Steiner. And of all the flagrantly incompetent patriarchs in the von Steiner family history, my father was by far the worst of the lot. What the shopkeeper had said was spot on. If anything, he had even been a bit generous in his description of my family, and of my father in particular.

With all that being said, no, I’m not angry with the shopkeeper. Instead, I laugh. “Fair enough. But still, do you mind if I browse a bit? You can watch me like a hawk. I won’t try anything. I swear.”

The shopkeeper deliberates for a second, then grudging nods. “I have my eye on you, kid. Try anything funny, and I’ll have the guards toss you in the can.”

I nod, then walk further into the store. There are some other customers about, who stare at me, but I ignore them. I find a section that seem about my size and run my hands over several articles of clothing. They feel sturdy and the material is decent, but it’s far below the quality of clothes I’m used to. When I pick up a few that catch my interest, I hear a loud cough coming from the front of the store. I see the shopkeeper gesturing to me, warning me not to try anything. I disarm him with a smile, and begin putting on the clothes I’ve picked out. Once I’m fully dressed, I go to find a mirror.

Seeing my appearance for the first time since being time rippled, I feel a mild look of surprise cross my face. My medium length, wavy hair, which in the alt-past had been a dark brown color, is now a translucent white. Another side-effect of the time ripple spell, perhaps? But I note that my eyes are still a bright amber, the same color they had been before. For a moment, I wonder why only parts of my appearance have been affected, but then I shrug and set the matter to the side, focusing instead on the outfit I have picked out. Slowly, I turn in a circle, getting a look at myself from every angle.

In the end, I had settled for a white, long-sleeved undershirt with a vibrant red tunic layered on top and a black cloth tied around my waist as a belt to secure the tunic in place. For my lower body, I had chosen cotton underwear, a pair of tight-fitting, hide-leather pants, knee-high socks and sturdy leather boots. Finally, I completed the outfit with a thick, black scarf made of cashmere, which when wrapped around my neck extended past my chin and hid my mouth.

I nod. While the quality is mediocre, everything fits and doesn’t look too outlandish. This’ll do until I can find something better. Now, about that shopkeeper. I glance into the corner of the mirror and see him still standing at the front of the store, one eye on the register, one eye fixed on me.

I think back to what he said earlier, about my father and my family. He’s right of course, about everything he said. I’ll admit it every time. He’s right. My father is a scoundrel, the scum of the earth. My family is the worst, an embarrassment to every common citizen in Eperium, let alone the nobility. My house, the name von Steiner, has fallen so far from its past glory that even a lowly shopkeeper can insult it with confidence. So, again I say, he’s right. However, just because he’s right, doesn’t imply that he has the right.

I glance over to the side, at a pile of cotton shirts. Remember what I said. I’m not angry. I swear. “Far Flame.”

Instantly, the stack of shirts begins to smoke and within seconds, it bursts into flames. The fire quickly spreads to the wooden display mounts, then jumps to piles of clothes nearby. Within a minute, that entire side of the store is enveloped in flames.

Yelling and screaming erupt around the store, as panicked customers run towards the exit. I calmly make my way out as well, behind the heels of a frenzied mother clutching her newborn baby. Behind me, I can see the shopkeeper trying to salvage what he can, but the flames are burning too hot and before long, he is forced to escape outside with the rest of us.

As I’m standing outside the burning store, I see a crowd of onlookers gathering, as if coming to watch a show. Funny thing isn’t it, the way the human mind works. We see a disaster, and we know we should feel sadness and loss, but all we can feel is curiosity. We’re so fascinated by destruction that, even though we all know it’s horrible, we just can’t seem to look away. People are strange like that.

As the crowd looks on, suddenly, one of the store’s central support beams crumbles, bringing down half the roof with it. The collapse causes an inferno of flames to flare out, as fiery tendrils lick the afternoon air. I hear several gasps of awe echo through the crowd. Then I look over and spot the shopkeeper. He is currently on his hands and knees, head up and staring at the flaming wreckage that was his life’s work. I think he is crying.

I walk up to him and stand beside him for a moment, before breaking the silence. “So, you don’t mind if I keep these clothes, right?” I look down at him. He’s still staring straight ahead. Maybe he heard me. Maybe he didn’t. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then.”

As I stroll away, towards the north end of the city, I hear yelling, the sound of commands being given. It’s the fire corps, arriving to put out the fire. They might be able to salvage something of the clothing store, but I’ve already lost all interest in the matter. Instead, I’m busy making a mental checklist of the things left that I have to do.

Magic- a bit lacking in control, but check.

Clothes- a bit mediocre in quality, but check.

So then, there’s just one more thing left that needs to be taken care of.

Remember a while back, when I mentioned that there was still one final lingering problem with the time ripple spell? That I’d talk about it at a later time? Well, it’s that time. I’m going to address that problem now. I just need to do some soul searching first.

I need to find myself.