Disaster classes the cal.., p.1
Disaster Classes: The Calamitous Bob Book Five, page 1
Disaster
Classes
The Calamitous Bob
Book Five
Alex Gilbert
Copyright ©️ Alex Gilbert 2021
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover by Antti Akosaari
Formatting by Emily Godhand
Editing by Azzy
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Disclaimer
Acknowledgments
The Story So Far
Chapter 101: Shipping
Chapter 102: River
Chapter 103: Academy-Approved Battle Magic
Chapter 104: Judgment
Chapter 105: A Place of Learning
Chapter 106: Making an Entrance (Examination)
Chapter 107: Meet Interesting People. Kill Them.
Chapter 108: Inducted
Chapter 109: The Best Humanity Has to Offer
Chapter 110: In Session
Chapter 111: Basic Magic for Dummies
Chapter 112: The Girl with the Dragon
Chapter 113: Finding Her Marks
Chapter 114: Busy
Chapter 115: Draconic
Chapter 116: Consequences
Chapter 117: Loyalty
Chapter 118: Examination
Chapter 119: The Fetch Quest
Chapter 120: Fall Cleaning
Chapter 121: The Local Talents
Chapter 122: Remnants of a Bygone Age
Chapter 123: The Pit of Hatred
Glossary
Afterword
About the Author
Social Media
Other Books by the Author
Disclaimer
The Calamitous Bob is a web serial published on Royal Road and Patreon under my other pen name, Mecanimus. I like to think that serials are to traditional books what series are to movies, though I might be biased. As a result, you should expect a slower pace. The Calamitous Bob also includes light LitRPG elements, violence, and curse words.
This is a work of fiction.
Acknowledgments
A book is a group project. I, the author, paint the imaginary scene happening in my head and then others gently help me make it readable with ‘there there’ and ‘this sentence doesn’t make sense, dearie’ and ‘have you taken your meds’ and other supportive messages. As such, I would like to first and foremost thank Azzy and Emily Godhand for the final touches, Hesketh, JP Koenig, Selkie Myth, and Ikelos for the beta reader support, and all my readers on Patreon and Royal Road for their contributions to this little piece. You fine people are awesome. This story wouldn’t exist without you.
And now I’d like to thank you, the readers. I can only live from my passion so long as people keep reading my stories, so thanks for the support and I hope you enjoy the show, meatbag.
The Story So Far
French medic-turned-witch Viv has accomplished much since being forcefully flung onto Nyil, a planet of monsters and sorcery. She led a rebellion against the tyranny of Prince Lancer, whom she slew in the most gruesome fashion, then finished the nearby civil war by causing the death of the entire Loyalist faction (she didn’t mean to—no, really!). Now Viv aspires to some tranquility on her way to the city of Helock, where she hopes to complete her magical education… and also find a solution to the tiny mana problem that is slowly killing her. Viv has some support, however, and she will not allow riots, invasions, or criminal organizations to get in her way. We now return to our heroine as she sails along the River Shal in pleasant company.
Chapter 101: Shipping
Viv stood at the prow, letting the breeze coursing over Lake Hydon whip her hair back. The fresh air tasted particularly crisp after the fishy stench of the piers. The sun felt nice on her skin. It reminded her of April walks by the sea in Nice when she was young, before too many tourists glutted the sidewalks of the Promenade des Anglais. Even Arthur looked like a fat seagull as she dive-bombed fish with a victorious screech.
The Outlander sighed. It was so nice to have a break. All she had to do was stay out of the way of the sailors and enjoy the cruise aboard this ship. Although, to be fair, it was more a large river tug than a proud three-mast frigate. It drifted across the placid water with all the grace of a grazing cow.
Viv stayed where she was for a good part of the morning, focused on shaping exercises and sight-seeing. Lake Hydon had a smattering of smaller islands dotting its calm surface. They came across more than one fishing boat, their occupants dragging nets up with efficient strength. Near noon, she was invited to eat lunch in the captain’s cabin. For all its bare-boned appearance, the River Flower had a proper kitchen for warm meals and the food was rather pleasant. Her host introduced himself as master Leit. He was more merchant than skipper, preferring to leave the technical details to his first mate. Unlike most men she had met around Losserec, Master Leit was clean-shaven with a soft touch and a softer voice.
“The river feeds many cities. A man who knows each and what they desire can make good money upon their shores. My father retired a rich man! Didn’t give me anything though, just this ship. By the way, I wanted to take the time to thank you for getting out of the way of the crew. Much appreciated. You would not believe what some of our passengers have demanded an hour into the trip. Why, I remember a baroness ordering us to stop the boat from bobbing so much.”
“I’ve been on a ship before. I understand that departure can be a busy time.”
“Yes, I could tell right away that you were a woman of the world. May I inquire about your business in Helock? If it is not too rude to ask.”
“I was hoping to attend the Academy.”
“A mage!”
His reaction surprised Viv. She had not cast any spells and her shaping had remained discrete, but surely someone who worked as a merchant would have a Focus skill over twenty, if only from accounting? Then she remembered that stats and skills were considered private and asking about them was a universal social faux-pas. But if it was obvious…
“You didn’t know?” she hazarded.
“Oh, the office expects discretion from those of us who transport goods and people. And using Inspect on someone can be considered unfriendly, especially since talented mages tend to realize it.”
He smiled indulgently. “I wish you luck in your endeavors. I know the Academy has stringent acceptance rules, yet I’ve often heard that anyone determined enough could eventually enter, if only for a few classes. I have a cousin who took defensive warding courses there. In the evening, after work! He was so proud, too.”
“By the way,” Viv suddenly remembered, “we have another passenger, right?”
The merchant’s expression turned carefully neutral.
“Why yes, though he is… unwell for now. I will ask if he would care to join us tonight, though I shall not press if he declines.”
“That is fine; I understand wanting to be left alone.”
Captain Leite appeared relieved and excused himself soon after. On her way to pick up soap from her cabin, Viv picked up a quick aura flare from behind the mysterious stranger’s cabin door. The polite thing was to reply, probably, so she flared her aura in return. When she received no reaction, she kept going.
There were expertly-made wards on the door, she realized on the way back. They were not the showy kind. Interestingly, they all used colorless mana, which made them harder to weave but also more difficult to perceive. An interesting choice. Back on the deck, Viv busied herself cleaning the smell of dead fish from Arthur’s talons under the crew’s flabbergasted gazes. The fact that it tickled made the exercise dangerous, but that was the price of hygiene and proper education. The little hooligan resisted her efforts, squealing piteously.
Mother.
Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?
“Young lady, you are not stinking up our cabin with old kills. Stop fussing.”
Arthur spent an hour sulking after this sudden but inevitable betrayal.
Towards the evening, the tug left the lake behind and floated into a river that was just as wide and slow. Viv learned that there was always a navigator at the helm, working in eight-hour shifts around the clock. The men boasted high mental stats to aid with their perception and attentiveness, but there remained a real risk of running aground without proper rest.
“Are there monsters around?” Viv asked.
“Nothing that would endanger us so long as we stay away from the shores. All the river beasts were hunted down long ago. Sometimes snakes and the like reach a critical size, then one of the duchies sends a hunting squad. The waterways are too vital for transport to allow monsters to breed here unchecked. The main risk is bandits.”
“There are bandits?” Viv asked, suddenly concerned.
“Rarely. Some towns ask for a toll and those who skimp or dodge can meet some unfortunate accidents, if you catch my meaning. I’ve never been bothered though. I’m part of a guild. We negotiate our dues and take measures long before it becomes a problem. You have nothing to worry about.”
&n bsp; “Right.”
“Oh, and I have good news. Our other guest will be joining us tonight. He asked about you after learning of the presence of a fellow caster. Of course, I extended the same courtesy to you as I did to him, so he knows little. I will be happy to introduce the two of you and do away with the mystery.”
“Fair enough.”
Viv joined the captain in his cabin for dinner. He had a small table nailed to the floor, and the room itself was cramped though not overly so. A man was already waiting for Viv.
Many things could be said about the stranger, but Viv’s first impression was that he had picked a fight with a wood chipper and lost. Badly. A robe covered most of his body yet did little to hide the marks on what skin he revealed. A glove covered his left hand while his right was devoid of fingers. A great scar marred one of his chiseled cheeks, and a band covered his left eye. Deep wounds had left bald patches in his wavy dark hair. A cane leaned casually against his chair. Despite his poor state, he sat with flawless poise while his keen lone eye studied Viv with the same attention she had given him. They both refrained from Inspecting, for now.
“Good evening,” Viv greeted neutrally.
“And to you too. You will forgive me if I do not stand. I fear good manners were the first casualty of my circumstances.”
His voice was smooth and cultured, with a light lilt Viv could not quite place. The scars on his dark brown skin looked rather recent now that she had a closer look. The second most interesting thing about him was his aura, which was the most controlled Viv had ever felt. Even Varska had not been quite so composed. The stranger emitted the barest amount of mana, and all of it was colorless. Viv was certain that if he did not want to be felt, she would not feel him. The level of mastery required to achieve such control spoke of more than mere skill. This man was dedicated.
The most interesting thing about him was that he was really handsome in an Arabian knight kind of way, despite the scars. They would probably make him look more virile after they faded from ‘angry and recent’ to ‘good story’.
“Viviane,” she introduced herself.
The man was about to reply with a pleasant smile when he stopped, hesitant.
“The honored guest goes by Mr. White for now,” the captain interjected. “I would like to state that the guild performed a background check and that you two are both, ah, persons of interest to some parties, but those parties are completely different and we are confident you have no previous ties. I was not told details, of course, only that there should be no issues.”
He served himself a glass of sweet wine and took a gulp. “If, however, it so happens that you two are at odds, I am willing to drop either or both of you at the port of your preference, so long as it is on the way, and reimburse you in full for the trip. Any attempt on the life of another passenger will be met with appropriate measures by the guild.”
Viv raised a brow at the now distinctly nervous captain.
“They hire assassins,” Mr. White helpfully explained.
“Oh. Well, there is nobody alive that I have a grudge against right now, if that helps,” Viv said.
“My enmity is with Glastia and its agents. Even then, I would happily keep a truce for the duration of the journey.”
Glastia was a northern city at the edge of the jungle. It was the one the merls had defended against the endless beastling horde, she recalled.
“Wow, seems like Glastia has created a lot of grudges,” she observed.
“My dearest motherland tends to use and discard the people who love her, I’m afraid. You know the saying. A child rejected by the town will burn it down to feel its warmth.” He shrugged. “I fear I may have indulged.”
That was just too many hints for Viv.
“You know what would be crazy?” she asked no one in particular. “Really crazy. Insane. What would be crazy is if you knew Sidjin.”
The man froze. His aura coalesced while the temperature seemed to drop. Viv’s danger sense woke up, though it did not scream quite yet.
“Hoooooly shit, you’re him, aren’t you? Wow. Just… wow. That’s—well, I suppose I should have expected something like that.”
Just like the Spark of Luck to thrust a chance meeting like this upon her.
Sidjin, the man who had saved the merls from extinction.
Through teleportation magic.
“Can we talk in private? Sorry, it’s sensitive and important,” Viv asked the captain, who retired graciously and without a word.
Mr. White, or Sidjin, was looking at Viv with suspicion. Viv was sure he was a finger away from pulping her on the ceiling, so she made to explain quickly.
“Listen, I was lost in the Deadshield Woods until a couple of weeks ago and I met the merls there. The ones you saved. They talked about you.”
The pressure in the room doubled. Sidjin gripped the table with his good hand, fingers clenching with enough strength to make the wood crack. Slowly, painfully, he stood up to his full height. He topped Viv by half a head.
“This had better not be a joke,” he growled.
“I swear it’s the truth. They’re led by Tweek, the last of their shamans. For now, at least, since there is a new generation growing up. Small guy, a bit old. Loves theater. They named their city ‘Sikoua’. That means—”
“—peace at last,” Sidjin finished.
He fell back in his chair like a toppled tree, swaying back and forth. Viv realized he was crying, sobbing silently with great heaves that shook his entire frame under the cumbersome robe. He tried to speak, but choked.
Viv felt a little bit awkward. She made to tap his gloved hand in what she hoped was a comforting gesture, but Sidjin removed the covered appendage with a hiss of anger.
“Sorry! Didn’t mean to.”
“No!” he interrupted. “No. You are not to blame. I apologize for the unfortunate reflexes. Just…” He choked again, then chuckled. The strangled sound turned into a full belly laugh. “They made it. By all the light gods, they made it, the insane bastards. They’re alive. It worked. Enttiku save my soul, it worked. Gods. You have no idea.”
He breathed a few times to calm down, then made to stand but forfeited with a wince of pain. Instead, he pointed at a cupboard screwed to a wall. Viv took his meaning immediately and fetched the bottle of strong booze. She topped his glass.
“If you would… thank you. I thought I had it. I was sure it had worked. I could see the trees on the other side, despite the pain and the fear, but there was always this little seed of doubt that haunted my fever dreams. Made me wake up in a sweat more often than the torture ever did. What if? What if I messed up and sent them into a death trap? Back in the jungle, surrounded by death and teeth? But they made it. They are fine. They are fine, right?”
“They seem to have adapted. They have those hanging gardens, with fruits hanging from them. Bird nests.”
“Yes. Yes, to protect them from a majority of insects, the bane of the jungle.”
“They have a statue of you. Didn’t sculpt the face, though.”
“Perhaps for the best,” the disfigured man joked, brows jumping in self-deprecation.
“I don’t know. You’re not too bad. Very… rakish,” she shamelessly replied.
“Flattery will lead you nowhere,” he replied, then coughed a bit. He gulped more alcohol, and Viv gave him a refill without prompt. It looked like it was going to be a long night.
“I fear my impressive physique was also a victim of that little stunt, so a rakish face is the most I can manage at this point. Still, thank you. I just wish they had not chosen a statue. I always found having a statue of oneself while still alive to be the height of arrogance.”
“Difficult to get your likeness when you’re dead, though.”
“And that is why, dear Vivane, you must hire a good portraitist, who will show you to your advantage. With a little financial incentive, they might even be convinced to show you to your great advantage.”
“I’m not sure if I would care after I’m dead.”
“A fair point. And though I am already extremely grateful for the news, I would ask that we continue this conversation with a proper split of the roles: you talk, I drink.”
“That doesn’t sound very fair.”
