Dial H for Heroics

Jack decided to spend the first part of his day just thinking. He went up to his office

and settled behind the desk. New quests meant new problems. At least they were right

about the quests being a stopgap to going home.

He could see why Old Man Warner had decided not to stay in Dark Ages Land. If he

had, maybe he would have inflicted more of a change on things. Would he want

responsibility for that?

Jack and Josie had inflicted their own changes in the small amount of time they had

been using the watches. Should they have interfered like they did?

He found that he had no ability to excuse the interference they had done other than

the higher powers said it was okay. That would have to be enough for right now.

Anything else would have to be judged case by case.

He looked around and found some scrap paper. He grabbed a pen and thought about

the arm he had promised to make for the Ducklings’ teacher. He wrote down what he

thought he could do with the aid of Majick and Warlock.

He might need Doctor Strange to put the prosthetic in place.

Surgery would be fast the way the Doc did it. Five tentacles, a collection of eyes, and

a magical natural welder would give him what he needed.

Then he could deal with Guin over what he had done at the Estate in the woods.

He wondered how that was going. Should he be helping them identify the bodies he

had dropped everywhere? Death was an excellent trump card against the low

resources he had seen on Hawk Ridge’s planet. He might need to keep it up his sleeve

more.

Still, he had killed a crowd of human monsters in seconds. That had to be some kind

of local record. He decided that Josie would be mad if he put up a sign bragging about

it.

He wondered if the Montrose would send in guys to find him and Josie from other

places. How many could he syphon off as they tried to figure out what was going on?

Could they make Hawk Ridge a no fly zone for their enemies?

Eventually they would smarten up and stop sending guys to the city, and then he and

Josie would have to hunt them down.

He decided to hit the administrative building at the center of the castle and city. He

had told Lord Cilt he would help out with his land problem. Maybe he should see

who actually owned the land now. That was the first step in getting it back.

He found the building after asking for directions a few times. He entered and looked

around. He needed more directions, or maybe a Vision. One lookaround pointed him

to the right staircase and a sign marked out in the strange letters of the place.

He climbed up to the office and paused at the counter. No one was in sight. He didn’t

see a bell. He wondered if there was a clerk around. He decided to jump over the

counter and start looking around the stacks of papers.

He needed to find Lord Cilt’s case and the papers for the tax seizure. If they were

there, it might give him a clue on how to proceed next.

There was no guarantee they had written an order. Why produce evidence against

yourself for fraud when you were taking someone else’s property? Why not just claim

you had a reason, and then never file any paperwork at all?

Unless they needed to have that paperwork to show they had a case to seize things.

What was the law for eminent domain against a noble? Could you just take an estate?

He felt he needed to look at the tax code and look for anything other people would

miss. First, he had to find the paper order for the seizure.

“Excuse me,” said a voice by the counter. “What are you doing?”

“Hello,” said Jack. He turned and grinned at someone in the livery of the authority.

“My name is Jack. I was asked to look into a false seizure of property. I was

wondering where those orders were.”

“False orders aren’t possible,” said the clerk. “Everything is filed in triplicate and the

Archive gets a copy, the Court gets a copy, and the Administration gets one that is

filed for the Duke.”

“What if the official order was entered under false pretenses?,” said Jack. “How

would you go about fixing that?”

“You would have to present a case before a magistrate, or the Duke, to get the charge

vacated,” said the clerk. “Then you would have to send the order to the King’s

scribes, and then wait for a returning order.”

Jack thought about that. That presented the case that a false charge could be filed, but

there was no way to fix it short of going to the King. And the threat of that was so

great that no one ever tried it.

Nobody wanted to meet the axeman over something like a property crime.

Should he swing by the King’s castle and say something to the man? He decided that

would not be in the best interest of his mission. And if the King was a member of the

Montrose, he would meet Josie in a dark alley.

He could look at the King later when he was done killing the local Montrose.

“So as long as I didn’t file anything with the Royal Archive, I could just sign an order

and have it cleared by the local courts?,” said Jack.

“Maybe if you were a member of the nobility,” said the clerk.

“So if I wanted to look for an order here in the Archive, how would I find it?,” said

Jack. He waved his hand at the paperwork around him.

“You would need the number for the paperwork, and I would show you the drawer

where the order was kept,” said the clerk. “Do you have the number for any such

order?”

“Not really,” said Jack. “I have a name. Would that be enough?”

“Depends on the name,” said the clerk.

“Lord Cilt,” said Jack. “Do you know where his order would be?”

“The noble tax orders are in the closet to the left,” said the clerk. He pointed at the

door at the back of the room. “They should be filed under the title given.”

“Thanks,” said Jack. He went into that archive. He lit a lamp hanging on the wall and

went through the drawers until he found the tax papers for Lord Cilt. He went over

the orders and frowned. He didn’t know exactly what he was looking at it but it

looked hinky to his untrained eyes.

He needed to look at the tax code, and then ask the Court how Lord Cilt had come up

for the land grab.

He had a feeling that Lord Hent had stated he wanted the land, then the city powers

moved to give the land to the Duke. Arguing with him at a party wasn’t something

that would have worked in the champion’s opinion.

He might have been put down by the guards on the scene to shut him up about any

corruption.

“Can I ask what this is about?,” asked the clerk. He stood where he could watch Jack

reading the order. He didn’t want this stranger to ruin the paperwork.

“I ran into a guy who said the city took his land under a pretense,” said Jack. “I’m

trying to see if he has a way of getting it back.”

“He would have to file an appeal through the Court,” said the clerk. “Maybe to the

Capitol. Chances are he still wouldn’t get his property back. Once seized, never

returned.”

“Sounds like some basic government pirating,” said Jack. “Do you have a copy of the

Tax Code?”

“I think I do in my desk,” said the clerk. “I wish you the best of luck trying to get

your friend’s land back. It’s normally not done.”

“If I can’t do it, I’ll ask my partner,” said Jack. “She’s a lot smarter than I am.”

“All right,” said the clerk. He searched his desk until he found a tome of tremendous

proportions. He handed it over, sighing when the weight was out of his hands.

“That’s a big book,” said Jack. He put it on a cleared table before it dragged his

arms out their sockets. “Do you know the tax code?”

“No one knows the tax code,” said the clerk. He tried not to look too amused by his

unwanted guest’s predicament.

“Let’s see what I can do with this bad boy,” said Jack. He reached for his watch

and Mister Fantastic came to the front in golden overalls and boots. He flipped

through the pages twice to make sure he had all the material covered before he

gave the persona up.

“Thanks for your help,” said Jack. “I appreciate it.”

He handed the book back. He would need someone in power to sign an order.

He wondered who that would be with all those people he had killed.

He imagined it would be whomever replaced Hent if he didn’t have any heirs.

He put it on his list to find out who the replacement duke was so he could coerce

an order out of the man so Lord Cilt could get his land back. There was something

wrong about this. His look at the order suggested that the land had been seized to

line Hent’s pockets.

He would go over things at home. The first step was waiting for the new appointment

of someone in charge of the region that Hawk Ridge dominated. Then came the need

to have things written down and sent to where they needed to be.

Jack worked his way around to head over to the local metal works. He wanted some

genuine metal to make Harp’s arm. He could create some, but he wanted to feel

the weight of it before he tried to attach it to the former adventurer.

It would be a problem if the arm weighed too much for him to use it.

Once he had that back at the Hole in the Wall, he could work on shaping the

resources into something useful. He might ask Josie to help him just to see what she

thought of things.

He walked along the street of smiths, listening to the clangs of hammers on metal

and the hissing of cooling water. He paused at a place that didn’t look that busy and

went inside.

“Hello,” said the counterman. “I see you’re someone in need of a sword.”

“Not really,” said Jack. He grinned at the other’s expression. “I was wondering if you

had any raw material to sell.”

“Raw material?,” asked the counterman. “What kind of material?”

“Iron, steel, maybe some copper,” said Jack. “I’m not really sure what I will need.”

“Not sure?,” said counterman.

“I’m building an arm,” said Jack. “It’s my first time. Any suggestions?”

“I have some gauntlets that could act as hands,” said the counterman. “Would you

like to look at them?”

“That would be great,” said Jack. “How many do you have?”

“I have about ten,” said the counterman. “They are all purpose replacements. Usually

we have to make something specific for the armor in question.”

“Let’s see these replacement gauntlets,” said Jack. “If I see something I like, I will

pay to have them delivered to my residence.”

The counterman waved for Jack to follow him to the back of the shop. A forge burned

the air next to buckets of water. Pallets of metal rested next to the buckets, ready

to be turned into weapons or armor. Completed pieces were piled up in bins so they

could be grabbed and sold.

They walked to the wooden storage bins. The counterman picked up one of the

gauntlets and handed it over to Jack. The dialer took the piece of armor and turned

it over in his hands.

“As you can see we made the knuckles as articulated as we could,” said the

counterman. “The metal is tough enough to take a mace blow. You just fit it over any

armor you might have.”

“How much would it be for three of these, and about twenty ingots of metal?,” asked

Jack.

“I’ll look up the prices for you,” said the counterman.