“Here you go, master cultivator.”

Jack looked up from his design spec software as a heaping pile of meat-bun thingies were placed in front of him.

“Thank you.” He smiled, much to the relief of the visibly nervous waitress.

Some small amount of color had just started to come back into her pale cheeks when An coughed unsubtly.

“And mine, mortal?” There was no missing the slight undertone of a growl in his ‘student’s’ voice.

“H-here, mistress cultivator.” The woman stuttered, putting down a significantly larger bowl of food in front of the cat-woman before fleeing back toward the kitchen.

An sniffed peevishly at the retreating proprietor’s back, before sighing in contentment as she started tucking into the massive meal in front of her.

Jack watched the entire byplay with little more than an amused raised eyebrow. While he’d momentarily considered chastising his student for her less than affable treatment of their waitstaff, he eventually decided against it.

She’d just gotten back from shadowing his army trainees on their morning run around the town. Something he knew for a fact that she considered beneath her. Still, she’d done it without complaint, simply because he’d asked. And would continue to do so until his little army was capable of protecting itself.

That earned her a little leeway in his mind – so long as being rude to waitstaff did not become a recurring theme with her.

That was a good way to wind up with food poisoning or worse one day.

And while he was sure his gene-mods would be up to the task of flushing out whatever any of the local peasants might think to put in his food, he’d rather not go through the indignities of that process.

With that in mind, he turned towards his own meal and inhaled deeply. It smelled good. Perhaps a little lacking in spices compared to the food back home, but it would still no doubt taste a thousand times better than the nutrient pellets he’d been subsisting on for the last few weeks.

It had also been crafted with care, which went a long way toward compensating for whatever ingredients the small inn might have lacked.

Still, I’ll have to see if we can’t import some spices when I finally get around to solving the town’s burgeoning food problem, he thought as he bit down on a meat burn with relish. That’s a problem for later though. For now…

He turned back to the holographic display floating above his wrist, ignoring the way An’s eyes noticeably lit up at the sight – then soured as she saw the subject.

It was camera footage from his recent opening of the nearby apartment complex.

Specifically, footage of a rather cute peasant girl. A cute peasant girl that if he wasn’t totally misreading things, was in the act of “eye-fucking” him while Xin gave his speech.

Given that most of the people around town could barely bring themselves to look at him, that took guts on her part.

Jack couldn’t deny that he was intrigued. Especially given the young woman’s looks. Raven haired and green eyes, the peasant girl had more homecoming queen in her than An’s scrappy tomboy look. Which was not to say that one was better than the other. That was like asking if you preferred rainbows or sunsets.

Pretty girls were pretty girls.

And were it not for the fact that he’d been incredibly busy the last few weeks, he might have chosen to act on An's obvious infatuation with him.

…Provided said infatuation was born of actual attraction and not some weird local obligation to service her teacher.

Jack knew he wasn’t a good guy, but few things ruined a fun thing more for him than the idea that a person he was with was being coerced into it. He was at least better than that. More to the point, there were plenty of ways for a man to get his rocks off without having to feel like a dirty scumbag afterward.

So yeah, An presented a few issues for him.

Not least of which is that if there is a way for the lass to figure out that I’m not a cultivator, the pair of us getting naked and bumping uglies together is probably it.

The Scandinavian man’s gene-mods were tough, but knowing his luck, that’d just make it more painful for him when his superpowered playmate reduced his hip bones to a fine powder.

…Still, what a way to go, he thought.

He shook his head. Even if An didn’t find out that he wasn’t a cultivator during the act, there was also a decent chance that she would figure out that he was a human and not… whatever the locals were. No one had commented on his lack of animal features, but he’d seen more than a few searching looks.

Thus far he figured they thought his animal features were hidden or subtle. Like the scales that ran across Kang’s torso. Scales that Jack had only seen when the man stripped down for his soak in the healing sludge.

Sighing in disappointment as he glanced at An, he returned his attention to the significantly less risky peasant girl.

And he smiled at what her interest represented. He was powerful here. And power always attracted people. Some people might have found that an ugly feature. Jack didn’t think so. It just was. Power was an attractive quality. To men and women. That was all there was to it.

Sure, power could be transient, but what wasn’t in life?

So yeah, he wouldn’t think any less of someone trying to get close to him because of what he represented. Least of all an illiterate peasant girl. Because from all he’d seen that cultivators were the main power of this world – and according to An, overwhelmingly women – in the mortal world it was still very much feudal China.

Perhaps a little more equal, he allowed, given the cultivator influence, but still old school.

Coming to a decision, he turned his hologram around until it faced the final member of their table.

“Xin, see this girl here,” he prompted, drawing the ox-man from the rice porridge thing he was eating.

Which equated to a significantly smaller meal than both Jack and An had. Which made sense. Xin was a big guy, but didn’t have cultivator nonsense or gene-mods to feed.

The man in question looked a little wide eyed as he regarded the space age bit of technology, but he adapted quickly enough to actually take in the subject of the hologram rather than the hologram itself. Which was one of the things Jack liked about the guy. He adapted quickly.

Of course, then a strange look came over the mayor’s features. “I do, great one.”

“Extend an invitation to her to meet me tonight.”

An scowled but said nothing.

Xin nodded, making to stand, but Jack reached over and grabbed him before he left. “And I do want to stress that this is an invitation. She is well within her rights to decline. If she isn’t interested I won’t be offended. Stress that to them as well. That will be the end of the matter.”

To his right, An gave him an odd look as she absently bit into her meatbun. One echoed by Xin. Still, the man eventually nodded, the tightness in his features receding slightly.

“I will convey your wishes exactly as you have described them to me, Great One.” He bowed.

Jack just waved him away, before a quick mental command through his implants had the hologram change form once more. This time to a map of the surrounding area – and the ground beneath it. Jack had no doubt the mass of symbols and geological readings would mean little to anyone not familiar with a HEV, but he himself smiled as he saw that his latest project was well on the way to completion. Sure, it likely wouldn’t be functional for months, but that was no problem.

Ideally he’d never have to use it.

With that in mind, he flicked off the hologram and absently popped another meatbun into his mouth.

They really were good.

------------

“How are they?” Jack asked from his position on the wall.

Behind him, An scoffed but otherwise kept her peace. Down in the courtyard below them, his ragtag militia were picking through the equipment he’d had delivered that morning. Given that his small army was nearly two hundred men in all, it was a feat that would have taken him three trips via wagon, but had only taken one after he’d shoved it all into subspace storage.

Admittedly, a little wasteful where his suit’s power supply was concerned, but he figured he could afford to let it charge for an extra hour or two later on, now that his manufactory had reached a decent degree of automation.

No longer did he need to oversee or help with every little thing. And that opened up a number of options for him.

“Passable,” Kang answered.

The trio watched as, below them, Gao and the other former guards ran the recruits through how to don the plate metal suits with significantly more patience than they’d shown on the run earlier that morning.

“You sound dissatisfied,” Jack noted.

“The equipment you have provided is wasted on them, great one.” The former-guard asserted, looking quite resplendent in his own gleaming suit of plate armor. “Especially these new helmets.”

He cradled the bulbous looking helm in his hands with all the care of a proud parent cradling their child.

Which Jack thought was a little much, even if he himself was rather proud of the design. Humble as it was.

Because helmets had been one of the things he had no pre-designed solutions for. And he was no medieval expert. He wasn’t much of an expert on anything. He did however know that generally the purpose of armor was to deflect rather than absorb blows. That was as true for corpo security drones as it was for medieval knights.

Which was why the prevalence of secondary ears in the local populace had presented a problem for him when he’d finally got down to inputting armor designs into the fabricators.

“No longer will a flush strike be directed down into the head of the wearer, possibly killing the wearer even if the blow fails to penetrate,” Kang said, running his fingers across the smooth surface of the helmet.

Sure, it looked a little funny – and made the wearer look like they had a massive forehead – but it would let a sword blow slide clean off while simultaneously keeping those precious ears safely tucked inside. For now the issue was that they rang like a bell when struck – which was obviously disorientating when you had your damn ears in the thing – but that could be solved later by stuffing them with hay or cotton.

Apparently the locals either just cut holes in their helmets, meaning that ear injuries were common, or left two armored ‘cat ears’ atop the head. Protrusions that served excellently to catch a sword blow and let the full force of it be transferred right down into someone’s brain, rather than simply sliding off like Jack’s design would facilitate.

“Seemed pretty obvious to me.” Jack shrugged.

That seemed to take the shine off of Kang’s enthusiasm, as he looked down. “Ah, I suppose… now that I’m looking at it, it rather is.”

“Why don’t all guards have helms like that then?” An asked, disinterest coloring her tone.

“Aesthetic, young mistress.” Jack glanced over to where Gao’s voice had come from. While they were talking, the outspoken younger guard had apparently walked up to the base of the wall. “Guards like us are as much a symbol of the sect’s authority as we are keepers of the peace.”

It was actually rather amusing how quickly Kang and An shot him a venomous look. Not that he seemed to notice. The half-dog’s focus was entirely on Jack.

“You really think that’s it?” The Scandinavian asked curiously. “Vanity?”

The young man bowed. “How many cultivators do you see wearing armor? Yourself excepted, great one.”

Though his words were flippant, his tone indicated great respect. Then again, just about everything the former guards said to him these days indicated great respect. The former cripples practically worshipped the ground he walked on for healing him.

Which might have made another man uncomfortable.

Jack was not another man.

He reveled in it.

…He also wasn’t a cultivator, so he had no idea what they usually wore. The only example he had was An. And all she wore was a leather breastplate over that odd robe dress thing.

“There are reasons for that,” An muttered venomously. “Reasons beyond the purview of mortals.”

“Of course, young mistress.” Gao bowed lower, his voice utterly toneless. “This lowly mortal begs your forgiveness for speculating on matters beyond his station.”

An continued to bristle for just a moment, before letting out a small harrumph and turning her gaze away. Gao for his part was as utterly unflappable as ever, but Kang did let out a small sigh of relief.

Jack noticed none of it.

So apparently armor is a big no for cultivators? He pondered. Why? More importantly, if it is, why has An not commented on me wearing a big fuck-off suit?

He didn’t know. And that was annoying. What was more annoying was that he couldn’t just come out and ask.

…There was too much he didn’t know. And he couldn’t afford to remain ignorant forever.

It was enough to make him think he might have been better to come clean about his origins were it not for the fact that it sounded more insane than the lie – and the fact doing so would guarantee someone would come along and try to take his stuff. Hell, An herself might.

That was just how cultivators operated apparently. They were the ruling class. And if he told the truth, he would be just another mortal with a fancy mystical artifact. The fact that it made him the equal of a higher tier cultivator wouldn’t matter.

He sighed, turning his attention back to his little army. It seemed that despite their lackluster headwear, mortal guards did have proper armor - though what that constituted, Jack had no idea.

It wasn’t like his small band of cripples was allowed to keep theirs when they were discharged.

Which is why, prior to this moment, he’d just imagined an ancient Chinese soldier, with all the accuracy – or lack thereof - his lack of knowledge on the subject entailed.

Still, no one present had complained about the designs he’d put together, so clearly he was doing something right. Then again, most of it wasn’t his own work. Just stuff he’d ripped wholesale from a file labeled HEMA.

Which was apparently some kind of sports thing.

With swords.

Not his idea of a fun time, but he’d thank the crazy bastards for ensuring those designs ended up in the sporting section of his strictly civilian database.

If only the Napoleonic era recreationists had thought to label themselves as a sport rather than as a historical society, Jack lamented. Then those designs might have also shown up in my database. Though at that point I might as well wish that airsoft or skeet shooting managed to make it through the fuckin’ censors.

He watched as the recruits continued to don the gear. Even from this distance he would see the wide smiles on their faces. Which wasn’t too surprising. It was a pretty comprehensive piece of kit. And he was sure it would have cost a small fortune back in the feudal era. Sure, he had no idea what that translated to in fantasy land, but he figured it would be roughly the same here.

And he was just giving it to them.

The group looked more than a little janky as a whole, given they were wearing the metal plate over their work clothes, but he didn’t much care about that. Uniformity could come later.

Though hopefully not too much later. One of his aerial drones had happened upon a relatively nearby bog a few days ago, with what looked to be an oil reserve in residence. So now he was digging in that direction.

With any luck it wouldn’t be too long until he could start producing plastics and synthetic fibers as a result.

Another thing to add to the list, he thought tiredly.

“Great one?”

Jack raised an eyebrow, startled out of his thoughts by Kang’s soft voice.

“Yes?” he asked.

The other man shuffled awkwardly. “I… I do not mean to be rude, but are you sure about this?”

Jack’s eyebrow raised slightly higher, and he could have sworn a bead of sweat broke out on the other man’s forehead.

He carried on quickly, finishing his thought. “If you would only give me time, I could turn this rabble around. Give you real warriors, the envy of the Empire. Versed in the three tools. The sword. The spear. The mace. Men who know how to ride, not just march. A mere six months is all I ask.”

Jack didn’t even bother to point out that he’d not provided maces or swords. Only spears to the recruits below. Kang wasn’t dumb. He’d clearly picked up on the fact that Jack could produce goods quickly.

The man wasn’t dumb. Prior to this conversation, he had even requested a few small items for the troops that Jack hadn’t thought of.

Still, this was not one of those items.

“We don’t need it.” He said simply. “You’ve got two – with on the job training - months. Teach them how to use a spear, march, form a line and set up a camp. That’s all I need from them.”

Mostly because he planned to transition to guns sooner rather than later. At which point skill with a sword would be as useful as tits on a bull. The only reason he was bothering with spears was that he needed something for them to practice with while he figured out gun production. Other than that, all Jack really wanted was for Kang to instill his future soldiers with some degree of discipline and the ability to act as a unit.

Kang deflated, but gamely continued on. “Then they will hardly be real guards at all. Without skill on the horse, how are they to patrol the outlying province in a timely fashion?”

Jack scoffed. "We don’t have outlying provinces. Everything these men need to protect is standing right behind you. For now, your only concern should be teaching them how not to be eaten by wild beasts.”

And later, deterring whichever assholes comes riding around to take a bite out of my pie, Jack thought as Kang deflated. Because that asshole always exists. Even my faux cultivator status isn’t going to keep him away forever.

Or her, he supposed. Because he or she is going to show up eventually.

They always did.