Bog Standard Isekai

The first workroom that Hogg brought him to was maybe twice the size of a high school classroom. It didn't have any technology recognizable from earth. Instead, a massive war golem was spread out across the ground. It was disassembled, but laid out so that the pieces were in the approximate shape of the body. The arms and legs were still mostly intact--eight foot long lengths of brasslike metal. The body and head, though, were broken down so much that he wouldn't have known what he was looking at if he didn't have the legs and arms to go off of.

Symbols and runes were inscribed around and through the pieces on the floor, and a few workers, or maybe magical scientists, stood around, some chatting and some taking notes or doing figures on clipboards.

A [Materials Specialist] in a long white smock gave Hogg a questioning glance and moved to start approaching, but Hogg waved him back.

"By the way, none of the workers here live at the house, so if you see anyone going back through this hall," Hogg tapped the door they'd just come through, "they're probably up to no good."

"Alright. Now what's going on with this war-golem? I've never actually seen one of these in person. Theranor never sent any and I didn't think anyone else could build them," said Brin.

"They aren't quite a lost technology. We have a few passed down from ancient Nhamanshal, along with the notes and instructions on how to build them, and now and again you'll find someone smart and motivated enough to build one, or restore an old one. But the point of war golems isn't to have one or two. Theranor has thousands of the things," said Hogg.

Brin found his eyes drawn to a whirring device in the center of the pieces that made up the golem's chest. It was a gyroscope surrounding a crystal sphere, perfectly balanced, and seeming to be in no danger of losing its power. Was that a legitimate golem core from ancient Nhamanshal? Those were supposed to be near-impossible to find.

"You know who would love this? Ademsi 2000," said Brin

"Last time I talked to him, he wasn’t keen on leaving Hammon's Bog," said Hogg.

"He might for this. He might have some insight into how they work, too. Or maybe he could figure it out," said Brin.

"Understanding how it works isn't the main hurdle. It's figuring out all the different Classes we'll need to make the component parts, and then finding out how to train someone into those Classes. Still, it's worth a shot. Send him a letter. He might agree if it comes from you." Hogg clapped his hands. "This is the project that has the most interest, and the investments we get from this are funding all our other projects. Come see."

They crossed the room and opened a door that led to a narrow hallway. Three more doors were on their side, probably leading to three more rooms of the same size, and an open doorway led to a much larger warehouse. In addition to being much larger than the workrooms, it was a lot busier, and much dirtier.

A row of twenty men worked at big drop hammers. Hissing, screeching machinery lifted up huge metal drums and then a worker would place an ordinary-looking rock underneath. They pulled a lever and the drum came down to completely pulverize the stones. Then they let the machine lift the drum up again, swept the red dust left behind into a bin, and placed a new stone.

None of that process was as loud as it should've been. Brin noticed that Hogg was dampening the sound for the machines, letting them be loud enough to give feedback but not so loud as to be uncomfortable.

Three-quarters of the workers were [Transmutationists], and the rest were [Children], despite the fact that none of them were even as young as him. They were also all level 15 or lower.

"What's going on with those rocks? That red powder looks a lot different than the minerals going in," said Brin.

"That's ruby dust. The Tower can't get enough of the stuff. And the rocks are just ordinary rocks. This thing all started with Gudio. Remember him?" asked Hogg.

"The [Rock Crusher]," said Brin, nodding in comprehension.

"Yep. I paid him to come out here long enough for a [Child] to copy his Skill, the one where he makes rocks that he crushes turn into something else. It's got to be mineral for mineral, though. We haven't cracked metals yet. Dan Simon over there was the first to get trained by Gudio, and he managed to unlock [Transmutationist], so he could teach the Class to the others. He couldn't copy the Skills Gudio uses to break the rocks, just the ones that change its properties, so we had to build these machines to do the actual breaking. They're steam-powered," Hogg said proudly.

"I thought they must be. I didn't know you guys had figured out steam engines until I saw the trains," said Brin.

"Those don't run on steam, though. That's pure magic and Skillwork. There's one guy in the city, maybe in the entire world, that can create and maintain those trains and the large freight locomotives: Lord Candide. I built the steam engines based on the stuff you said and some things I found in the Tower library; it's still a work in progress. They aren't really catching on because... well for a dozen different reasons, but we're still working on it. That's what the junk in the back is for."

The back section of the warehouse wasn't as tightly organized as the front. Dozens of different mechanical pieces, maybe all parts of different projects, lay across tables and the floor in various states of disrepair. A few general [Crafters], [Tinkers], and [Machinists] worked amid the chaos, though they were much more like traditional craftsmen than the assembly-line workers in the front.

The scene had a lot to think about, but he kept getting distracted by the fact that Hogg had chosen these guys' Classes for them. He wasn't just tolerating that behavior, he was participating in it.

The sting was mediated by a couple factors--none of these guys had been forced into it. They'd responded to a newspaper ad for someone who was willing to take a new Class in exchange for a job. And looking at it from that light, the people here actually had more choice in the Class than those back home. You could just find the one you desired in the "Help Wanted" section, and a company would train you into it.

On the flip-side, if Hogg ever went out of business, these men might need to reset their Class again in order to find new work. It was a system that meant that laborers would never really climb high in the levels. The rich here were using the gods-given System to keep the poor in their place and working hard.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

The thing that actually helped Brin come to terms with it was the fact that [Transmutationist] was cool. It was probably silly of him to think in these terms, but it helped a lot that this Class had an incredible amount of potential. He could only imagine turning an enemy's weapon into butter in the middle of a fight--no, he was thinking too small.

It was basically the Fullmetal Alchemist Class, right? At higher levels, they should be able to turn the ground beneath their feet into firing canons and the air into poisonous fumes or maybe even huge bursts of flame. They'd taken the most interesting Skill of a high-level crafter and used that as the base Skill to start a whole new Class off of. It was Common, sure, but so what? Brin had started with a Common Class, and look at him now.

"What do you think they'll be able to do at higher levels?" asked Brin.

"A lot of that will be up to them. An honest day's work alone won't get you past level 20. They'll need to push their boundaries, and I'm not going to sponsor them for combat levels unless they bring it up on their own. But what I'm really hoping is that they'll remove the condition where they can only transmute something as they're breaking it with a high impact strike. If I could make this work with grinders, we could produce literal tons of material per day."

“Can you make anything?” asked Brin.

“These guys aren’t Gudio; they just don’t understand the materials the way he does. It’ll get better with time,” said Hogg. “Alright, next stop on the tour.”

Hogg guided him back towards the hall and they entered the room next to golem workshop. This one was nearly bare. There was a pristine and finely lacquered Bog Standard writing desk with a nice chair, a dressing dummy, a little storage locker, and a work table with two items on little pillows. There were no papers or stationary on the desk, the floor was so spotless you eat off of it, and the dressing dummy had any clothes there were in the storage chest next to it.

“This is my personal office,” said Hogg.

Brin sniffed in humor at the absolutely bare work space. Hogg was all in on magic, he hadn’t been one for hands-on crafting hobbies.

Brin stepped away from the table with the items on display and scratched his chin while he examined the dummy. “Everything else in the room I understand, but this bears thinking about.”

“Really?” asked Hogg. “You don’t want to look at–”

Brin snapped his fingers. “You put real clothes on your Shadow Constructs. You do, don’t you? That’s why they feel so real. That’s brilliant! I could do that with my Mirror Men!”

“They feel real because I’m a talented genius,” said Hogg. “I put clothes on them for the enchantments. Now come look at this typewriter already!”

Brin chuckled and made his way over to the display table. There, on top of the little pillow, was a nice mechanical typewriter. The keys were all made of ivory and the body was polished copper which called to mind a certain breed of clientele. But that’s the way new inventions were; the rich got everything first.

Hogg typed out a short message and Brin tried not to feel superior to his chicken-pecking typing style. Good typing form literally hadn’t been invented yet. Would Brin get an Achievement for introducing it? Actually, would he still be any good at typing? Frenarian had completely different letters than English, and they were in all different spots. Thinking about it now, it looked like Hogg had just gone in alphabetical order rather than try to space out the most commonly-used letters. Something to bring up another time.

Hogg finished his sentence and then pulled out the paper and handed it to Brin.

Guaranteed 100% mechanical. No magical materials and no Skill enchantments.

“That’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it though? It’s way less complicated than a good clock, but there’s something appealing about all the clicky little buttons,” said Hogg.

“I think I’m going to be very good friends with this thing. My handwriting is atrocious,” said Brin.

“It really is. Lots of people’s are, so maybe that’s our target? Otherwise I’m having a hard time figuring out who this thing is for. [Scribes] don’t need it. Rich nobles treat fancy handwriting as a status game, and they’re the only ones who could afford this. Other than rich non-nobles, I guess?” said Hogg.

Brin shook his head. “No. This is huge. This is a world-changing invention. You’ll see.”

“Maybe. I’m still working on finding production and distribution,” said Hogg.

“Sion is in town.”

Hogg shrugged. “Give it to him, then. See what he can do with it. Ok, but this next one I’m really kind of proud of.”

He held up a square box and then pressed a button on the top. Then he turned a little hand-crank and the box produced a little slip of paper. He tore it off, and then showed it to Brin.

It was a perfect picture of him, standing there in Hogg’s office. Wait, how long had it been since he looked into a mirror? Somehow, his face looked younger than he remembered it. Or maybe just less tired.

“It’s a camera,” said Brin.

“It’s a camera!” Hogg cheered.

“How does it work?” asked Brin, because outside of telling Hogg that it was possible, he really didn’t know how old non-electrical cameras worked at all, and hadn’t been able to give Hogg any guidance on that front.

“I’ll be honest, this thing is almost entirely magical. It’s got like, no real science behind it at all. Except for this little hand crank to push the paper out. That was my idea,” Hogg said gleefully. “But check it out! It’s a real camera! I can take pictures!”

Brin took it and turned it over in his hands, then he shrugged. “I’m having a hard time figuring out who’s going to use this. It’s not that expensive to hire an [Artist] to give you a realistic sketch.”

Hogg spluttered. “What? But this… this is a camera, Brin!”

Brin grinned an apology, feeling a little bad. “Sorry, it’s really cool! It’s just… we can both already do this with our magic.”

Hogg frowned. “That’s different.”

Brin looked at it again. “It needs a window. Like a little lens so you can see what the camera is looking at.”

“But I can see you. You’re right there,” said Hogg.

“Most people can’t mentally project what a field of vision would look like coming out of a device that they’re holding. It’s actually pretty weird that you can do that.” Brin looked at the photo again. “This is actually really well-framed. You got me right in the middle, front and center, and you weren’t even holding it up to your face.”

“Forty years of Invisible Eyes will do that for you,” said Hogg, still a bit grumpy.

“If you’re already going all-in on doing everything magic, why not put a little screen on the back. Show people exactly what the picture will look like before they take it.”

“Do you think people will want that?”

“They’ll definitely want it,” said Brin.

Hogg took the camera back and placed it on the pillow again, considering. “Alright, let’s look at your room.”

“My room?”

The last door in the hall, right next to Hogg’s office, was Brin’s room. Not his bedroom; there was no trace of Marksi and Tonin, and no bed for that matter. But he knew it was his room from the very first glance.

A big kiln dominated the far wall, and the work benches were set up with all sorts of tools, blowing rods, pliers and the like. It was a glass shop.

“I already put together a sample of all the elements you were looking for back in Blackcliff. Boron, phosphorus, and silica of course, the good stuff, too…”

Brin barely heard him. He wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to receiving extravagant gifts, things that he’d barely let himself dream about much less ask for. How was he supposed to react? Grateful, but what did that even look like?

He should smile at least. He realized he was already smiling. He was laughing. “This… this is… Hogg!”

“Alright, alright,” said Hogg, rubbing his nose. “Let me show you how the ventilation in here works. I had some people ask around, and I think what you were missing in Blackcliff was oxygen. See those big billows?”

“Hogg."

“You don’t have to say thank you. I’m no good with that stuff.”

“Who has time for ‘thank you’? I want to know how long I have until school starts,” asked Brin.

“Ten days.”

“Ten days,” Brin repeated. That didn’t seem like nearly long enough. Then there was no time to waste. He got to work.