Bonus Short Story
First Steps Clan Bulletin: The Thousand Tricks’s Advice Column
“Krai, regarding the results from the public comments box—”
“Huh? Oh, right. That.”
I hadn’t expected to see Eva carrying a large box in her arms. First Steps issued a regular bulletin as part of an information-sharing initiative. Just a few days prior, there had been discussions about including an advice column penned by me.
I didn’t get it, but apparently, there was interest in the advice offered by the preterhuman artificer. I wasn’t sure if there really was that much demand, but I agreed to it. And it appeared preparations were already finished.
“The box in the lounge is filled to the brim, so I thought I should bring it to you,” Eva explained.
“Really?!”
Eva opened the box and turned it upside down. I couldn’t help but furrow my brow as a mountain of papers formed on my desk. Funny to think I had only agreed to this because I didn’t think anyone would bother sending anything in.
Damn, these people work fast.
I wasn’t a fan of the situation, but I didn’t see what else I could do. I picked up a pick envelope that sat at the pile’s summit.
“What do we have here? ‘I adore my master. He’s strong, kind, and smart. There’s almost nothing to complain about, except the brutality of his trials. I know it’s his way of looking out for me, but I’ll die sooner or later if he keeps this up. I know his intentions are good, but how can I get him to ease up? Signed, Cute Junior Hunter.’”
Eva looked at me, baffled. So much passion and dissatisfaction were packed into that letter. I wasn’t sure if this was appropriate for the public comment boxes. And who even wrote that? Tino surely wouldn’t describe herself as cute.
“Well, let’s just set this one aside. Next up, let’s see. ‘Please put people I can cut in the training rooms.’ Yeah, this is from Luke.”
“He’s got no shortage of dedication.”
This was out. Obviously. Onto the next one.
“Let’s try this yellow letter. Let’s see. ‘Could you place cuttable criminals or magical creatures identical to humans in the training rooms? Luke keeps asking about it.’”
“You’re not going to agree to that?!” Eva asked.
Needless to say, I wasn’t. I considered who might have even submitted that letter. Our clan was filled with lunatics. Since I didn’t want to think about it anymore, I moved on to the next letter.
“‘Human weakling, pull yourself together! I have cohorts constantly asking me about you and I never know how to answer! Sir! Signed, Noble Spirit of Extreme Beauty.’ So even in writing, she uses ‘sir’ like that.”
I read another one.
“‘Please place booze in the lounge.’ Why? Everyone’s always bringing in their own!”
And another one.
“‘Unmotivated clan members are a waste of space and should be chased out. That would give us less work, more time to hunt, and I’m sure managing weaklings is a pain in your ass. C’mon, Krai Baby, tell me it’s a great idea!’ No, no, no.”
And another one.
“‘Quit buying Relics all the time. Please, think of your future and save a little bit! Do you even understand how deep your debt is?’ Wasn’t this box for, y’know, comments?”
I was hoping for more constructive submissions. Maybe the preterhuman artifice would have to wait for another day. Eva shared my exasperation. It seemed a lot of people figured they might as well write something simply for the novelty.
“‘I hesitated about submitting this, but I believe something needs to be made clear. Do you favor Sitri, or Liz? Both have their problems, so I deeply understand your desire to avoid the issue, but I’m not sure it’s right to remain so indecisive.’ So, was this written—”
Eva shook her head. “D-Don’t look at me!”
Hmm. Looking at this handwriting, maybe it was Ansem? Or maybe not?
What a terrifying thing the public comments box had turned out to be. I declared the advice column DOA.
Finally, I opened up a letter folded in two. The handwriting was lazy and reminded me of a tangle of worms.
“‘Everyone keeps disappearing without me. Where are you all going? Eliza Beck.’”
Hell if I know!
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