“Come on, move along,” the porter angrily scolds me further. “Don’t hold up the line.”
Stepping through and off of the stone circle in Vastra, I feel so lost despite returning to the closest place I have to a home at the moment. Has that porter always preferred the silver? He only took one, and then he gave me fifty copper. That makes no sense. Why would he give me tribute?
If I always give that big one silver coins to get to Vastra, then he will, for whatever freakish reason of his own, give me fifty coppers. Then I can use that to get back to Tranas. Is he mistaking me for someone else? Someone who provides protection maybe? Regardless, it’s a valuable loophole to exploit.
My mind cracking from the inconsistencies, I vigorously shake my head before heading down into the sewer. Now’s not the time. For now, I’ll simply accept that cheating that porter will provide an easy, steady supply of copper coins.
Old home again, it’s time to pack for new home. After that last dream, my spacial transformation skill maximised. That means that my pockets should be anchorable now, exactly like those transportation specialists that I’ve seen following the merchants around. Only need to figure out how to do it. I’ll check the book from the sad merchant.
So you’ve completed the first tier of spacial transformation specialization. Congratulations! The dream of cutting all costs on spacial transports is growing ever nearer. First, you must learn to anchor pockets to yourself so that they follow you everywhere you go. After that, I’ll suggest methods to practice stretching and expanding your pockets so that they can be increased in size. Otherwise, tiny pockets aren’t particularly useful.
Yes! This is exactly what I need. I considered doing this on the first trip back to Tranas but was worried that the porters might find it suspicious. This time, I have far more of an incentive to try.
Third, note that your pockets will still be one time use. That means that you must plan to fully pack, move to your destination, and then completely unpack. There are methods to change this, but that’s fiercely protected information. Therefore, it’s very much outside the scope of this publicly available book. Consider joining organizations like the specialist unions, guild, or tower to secure access to more advanced knowledge.
Or, alternatively, secure access to a gigantic, hidden library. Fools and their secrets, they think they can keep them from me and goblinkind with their pathetic organizations and restrictions. Regardless, for now the one way pockets are more than acceptable. I suppose that Garret’s pocket was created with those secrets? That elasticity in the seal keeps it from collapsing when opened. It’s an interesting effect.
Repeatedly following the book’s methods, I rigorously practice until reliably able to anchor pockets to myself. The suggestion for beginning to stretch and expand the space allows for some surprisingly immediate progress as well.
Good enough! Now, a single pocket can store a fairly significant portion of my things. Soon, everything’s packed. However, there’s one more song that I’d like to try.
Sitting down to rest and recover my energy, I watch the four anchored pockets dancing around me like fireflies. This is a big problem. They’re so eye-catching and recognizable. I could see these with only my arcane foundations. Many of the big ones have achieved that, so I’ll stand out too much. The porters in particular will think it strange for me to have these, given that many believe me to be a forsaken. I shouldn’t add more to the already questionable oddity of my character.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Energy recovered, my empowered pupils and lenses inspect the seals. The twists are significantly larger than the one on the hidden space in Tranas. That must be why they’re so noticeable. I doubt that can be changed any time soon, but perhaps creating simple folds over them will help. At least passive observers will be less likely to notice these brightly shining stars.
Letting go of my pupils, I transfer a channel over to my hand. It’s much smoother this time.
Excellent. Now, I reach out and attempt to pinch space near the erratic seal. Pulling slightly, a small, floppy layer forms between my fingers.
Good. Great. However, now I’m stuck chasing this stupid little dancing twist all over the place. I need it to stay still!
Transferring energy from my lenses over to my other hand, I frustratedly grab at the twist itself. It somehow feels slippery and evades my grasp. Trying again, I first will a steady flow of power to the second hand.
Then I slowly extend stable energy out from the tips of my fingers. This time, I take careful hold of the twist with the energetic extensions. It reluctantly stills just enough for me to start wrapping it in folds with my other hand.
Profusely sweating from the deep concentration, I power off my folding hand in order to wipe my head. The stable energy feels different now. It’s as though I don’t have to keep it continuously powered anymore. It has a kind of permanence outside my body. Taking advantage of this, I carefully repeat the operation on all the remaining pockets.
Reviewing my hard work, I have to say it’s pretty sloppy. Regardless, it’s nowhere near as shiny and eye-catching as naked twists fluttering every which way in your wake. However, if someone knows to look closely, then they’ll definitely see the big blob of folds sticking out of the chaos. I hope this works.
Walking back to the terminal and waiting in line, I’m finally facing the porter. Quickly, I shove the token in his face, hoping to distract him from looking too closely.
“Again? Busy lad lately, aren’t you?” he listlessly quips. “50 copper.”
Excellent! He doesn’t suspect a thing. Reaching down, it dawns on me that I’ve packed almost all of my pouches. Likely due to the exuberance of testing how much I could shove inside the stretchier spacial pockets. However…
No! I kept the wrong pouch on my belt. I can’t empty out the pockets here in the street to get the coppers.
Drawing out a single silver coin, I hesitantly hand it to the porter, hoping for another miracle. Without a word, he takes it, and exactly as the other, throws back a bag of copper coins. The tear opens and I stumble through, bewildered.