“Maaaaartin. Maaaaartin. Maaaaartin. Maaaaartin. Maa—”

Thunk!

“Shut up. I am trying to focus.” Metal stylus and compass in hand, the young man with blue eyes carefully marked up a stone slab. To his right, innumerable sheets of paper were splayed out, covered in various geometric figures. To his left, there had been a reference book, which now found itself at the feet of Marten, who fell back onto his bed, cradling his head.

“Owww, don't be such a dick.” Gingerly touching the roots of his blue hair, he winced slightly. “You two need to chill out, I swear, this week’s been hell. Marton’s got his grant to worry about, and you guys are getting waaay too into this bet. We don’t we head out for drinks—”

A nearby stick of chalk flew past Marten, breaking against the stone wall. The white dust settled into his bed as Martin kept looking at his work. Without turning, he spoke.

“Nessa doesn’t work at the bar anymore. She made enough to go to Jegel, so you can give it up. She's probably on her way there already.”

“Whaaa—aaat?” Marten’s jaw dropped to the floor, springing from his bed, stirring the chalk into a new cloud. “Why didn't you tell me sooner? Oh man Martin, you are the shittiest friend I have! Alright, put down the crap, let’s go find her before she leaves! Aw Nessy, why you gotta go to Jegel?” Panicking, and starting to mutter to himself, he dashed to the bathroom and slipped an energy token into his Aquifer. Washing his hair and face, he looked back to Martin, who continued poring over the tablet he planned to inscribe. “Come on!”

“I didn't tell you earlier, because I knew you'd interrupt me. Besides, if you actually liked her, you would have said something by now.”

“Love is the blossoming of a nine-petal lily! It cannot be forced, it cannot be replicated, it cannot be stopped! The most beautiful thing in the world, and just because another holds it, you would let it wither away? Come, let me taste the sublime dawn of love—”

“You tasted the sublime dawn of Kirsten, Dorothy, and Ellen’s love in the past two weeks. Are you so bad they won't have you back in bed?”

“Screw you, asshole, I’ll go find her myself.” Fixing his blue hair and making sure he was clean shaven, Marten headed out the door. “And on my way back, I'll tell Martin how to inscribe a Dual Octagram!”

“Wait, NO!” The door to their dorm room slammed shut, as Martin looked forlornly at his blank tablet. Then he hurriedly set to work, even if Marten did teach Martin how to do that, a quaternary diamond arrangement would work faster, hopefully enough to beat out any inefficiencies.

Out in the hallways, Marten zipped along, patting himself down, checking how he was arranged. Bandolier-satchel combo:Filled with tablets, inscribed and blank, styli and compasses attached. Cargo Pants: Plenty of energy tokens, chalk, ink, and vials of conduits. Tool Belt: Hammer, chisels, other etching implements. Holster: Fire gun.

A moving workshop, he might not have needed all his gadgetry to see Vanessa, but that’s who he was. Runic Genius Marten Omaiha. Other than The Marts and the girls who got him out of the rest of his clothes as well, he was never seen without his gear. You could never know when inspiration might strike.

A bit on the eccentric side, as he rushed through the hallways, looks of admiration were thrown his way. Still a resident of the Second Floor of Lockheed Academy, he managed to garner a bit of fame, even with those on the First Floor. His face turning red as he passed Ellen, he ran for the stairs, flying down them and needing to use his hands to stick the landing.

Not wanting to draw any more attention, he tore out of the front hall. In a spindly sprint, electric blue hair whipped back, quickly drying in the wind. He didn't know why so many people looked at him with such reverence, everything he invented had already been done before. At least the academy paid him well not to talk about much of it, though they did allow him to keep his fire gun. The other students really only admired him because they didn't know he was just dredging up the past.

Marten had one bittersweet invention, both novel for good and for ill. The photolith, or photograph from the improved versions, was the only creation totally his own. Only an explored fluke, there wasn't much pride to be taken, it was just a slightly intriguing discovery. At least the Old Magi paid a good deal to have their perfect likeness formed in an instant instead of over the course of hours.

His achievements were shallower than those vain nobles. The little pride that kept Marten afloat came from the fact that at the very least the way he did things led to where other masters had already tread. Compared to the overbearing title of ‘Runic Genius’, he was just casting a shadow far larger than himself.

Living to innovate, yet never forging new paths. There were only so many things a young person could learn, and only so many ways that knowledge could be applied. Naturally after long periods of progress young geniuses became more difficult to find. The lack of new things to explore left him feeling depressed.

Things weren’t all bad for Marten; after all, he did attend Lockheed Academy, which was one of the grand Outer Academies. The Inner Academies were a mythical existence in themselves, so they hardly counted. Even the headmaster, Lawrence Lockheed the XII had never had any contact with the alleged Inner Academies. In light of this it made sense to simply call it one of the grandest academies available for runemasters.

With his skill, even if he couldn’t invent new runes as he desired, Marten excelled as easily as turning over his palm. So he had plenty of time to spend with his classmates, and otherwise enjoy himself while waiting for a moment of inspiration. Somehow he’d been rolled into The Marts by the bombastic and sky-shaking Martin Woodrow. Along with the sarcastic, blue-eyed Martin Varris, and the prodigy with a darker side, Marton, they became one of the more famous groups in the academy.

Marten zig-zagged out the gates at the boundary of academy grounds and into the bustling streets of Corinth. Despite the gibberish name, it boasted of wealth only exceeded by five others in the Western Array, one of those being the megapolis itself. Teetering as he ran between carts and people, his hands danced over himself with slapping and patting noises to make sure he wasn’t losing anything.

So familiar with the path he could walk it with his eyes closed, Marten skidded across the pavement, coming to a stop in front of Poet’s Ruin. A cross between a window cafe and a bawdy bar, it was a favorite spot for The Marts to hang out. Coffee before exams, alcohol after, and tea when they wanted to relax. Except for Marton, he ordered using some code to get items off the secret menu.

Only around noon, there weren’t many drinking heavily yet. Instead, the wood finished room smelled like exotic spices, as novice writers scratched away at their paper. As the name suggested, the place was famous for up-and-coming bards and writers to present their works. It was slightly more famous for getting sloshed orators out on the street and then in the pillory for various forms of public nuisances. The town guard didn’t mind much, especially since these folks were likely to pick up their lives and make something of it.

On the U shaped counter sat an attractive woman, speaking to one of her fellow baristas. It was a bit slow—the establishment being meant more for snacks and an evening meal than lunch—and she idly tossed her silky black hair over her shoulder. In doing so, she caught sight of the worried-looking Marten approaching.

“Good day there, Mart E~ What’s the matter, is something wrong?”

“Hey, where’s Nessy? Is she really gone? Did she leave already?”

“Oh darling, no one told you?” Unona leaned back, her dark hands contrasting against the smooth countertop as she traced circles with one finger. “One of her old friends met with her on the streets. She was a student at Jegel, and a well off one at that. Decided to pay for all of Nessa’s tuition. Acted a bit frigid, but she wasn’t some cold-hearted bitch. What was her name again? Ah, Karen TeYuvoin, very odd, but hard to forget something as odd as that.”

Putting his hands on the counter, Marten’s head sunk in grief.

“Ahhh, I’m too late! What a cursed life I lead, dreams forever out of reach. Whether I pursue them or try and let them come, none of it works in the end! O Gods, what drives you to torment man to such extent? For what reason do you tweak our fates into tales of pain?”

“Is he always like this?” The younger barista asked, slightly backing up. Unona laughed and slapped Marten on the back, making him fumble for the calliper that detached from him.

“Easy on the melodrama, you’re scaring the newbie. By the way, this is Hannah, she’s Nessa’s replacement. You can always fall for her instead.”

“H-hey…” Hannah stuttered, turning the other way.

“Hoh~, you look shy. Don’t worry, he may bluster around, but he’s way too soft. Well, he’s hard in the right spots. If you treat him well for a few days, I’m sure you’ll be treated in kind.”

“My love has vanished to forbidden grounds, yet you make your lewd intimations!” Unona’s salacious teasing caused both the new barista and runemaster to blush. “There must at least be some closure to this. Unona! I shall rally my true brothers to journey forth to the land forsaken to me! Will you join us?”

“Dear, I do have work to do.” She giggled, putting her hand over her mouth, rolling her eyes to look at the sky. “Then again, this doesn’t sound like something I want to miss. So long as you don’t leave today, I’ll tag along.”

“Then we shall leave a stroke past midnight!” Grasping his fists at chest height, mildly shaking them, Marten spoke with great force. Unona tittered as he stormed out of the building to find the other Marts and tell them the news. She hopped off the edge of the counter and headed to the back room of the store.

“Don’t worry Hannah dear, you’ll do fine. Though depending on how things go, you might not have a shot with him. Chances are you will. Have fun watching the shop, I’ll tell Faye to hop on by to help you out.”

Marten was no longer running, totally out of breath. A runemaster through and through, he didn’t practice any other arts and possessed a mortal physique. Despite making the same noise as a broken pressurised pipe, he stumbled along. The city was too damn big to jog across the whole thing, even for those with better constitutions.

Finally, he stumbled into an expensive toy store, each item artisanally crafted and powered by several runic formations. A wizened old tinkerer slowly sat down his hammer and chisel, moving away from his work.

“Master Omaiha, you look quite exhausted. Here, sit down, let me fetch you some water.” An old man helping a younger to walk to a chair was a strange sight to see. Yet the familiarity of the actions seemed appropriate, as though he were a top-class butler helping his young master at the end of a long day of work.

“No,” Marten wheezed out. “Get Marton here first. He’s...he’s here right?”

“Yes, that’s no problem. Please take a few deep breaths, and I will inform him as soon as possible, Master Omaiha.”

Marten collapsed over the wooden chair, lamenting his poor stamina. He watched as some of the various trinkets in the shop displayed their functions. A toy castle periodically caught fire, as a wall collapsed, resetting itself every few minutes. Blocks floated around over a disk inscribed with several complicated runes, a common type of puzzle, save for the fact there were over 100 pieces floating above it. Everything had the same base as a typical toy shop, but vastly exceeded that level of quality. One might even be forgiven for not thinking it was only a front.

“What’s going on Marten?” Speaking in a deep voice, a tall, dark, and handsome man with angular features emerged from the back. With the silky cloth in his hands, he wiped away the blood. Folding it up, he handed it to the old man, who bowed and left the room.

“Nessy has departed for Jegel, I can stand by no longer, I must go after her! We’ll set out at midnight, make your preparations my brother.”

“Jegel?” Marton tapped his chin, holding his elbow with his other arm. “That won’t be too difficult. I did have some business, but nothing that can’t be put off a few days. If it’s for Vanessa, time can be made. Shall I ready a transport?”

“Add an additional seat for Unona as well, the feminine presence should aid us in our task.”

“Alright. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I want to get a few more jobs done before we have to leave.”

“You’re the best.” Marten broke into a smile at his subdued friend’s promise to help. Of The Marts, he was the one with the most obligations, and those of the highest severity. With his attendance, they would reach the countryside quickly, with few to no obstacles in their way.

Marton gently clapped his hand on Marten’s shoulder a few times, and handed him some money before turning and returning to his business. Curt, the ‘Ambidextrous Automata’ did little outside of what was necessary for his own goals, even among The Marts he was distant. However he had great piety for friendships made, and as demonstrated, would be there in times of trouble.

Heading back to the streets, Marten hailed a rickshaw driver over. Hopping aboard, the vehicle bounced up and down slightly at the addition of weight, settling a few inches closer to the ground than usual. Paying with the money just given to him, it was exactly the amount needed, Marton worked with accuracy in even the most minor of things. Not that he was stingy, the particular rickshaw was on the expensive side, consuming energy crystals to levitate off the ground. Marton would never pay for frivolities like traveling in comfort, but the additional speed and reduced strain to the driver were worth the cost.

Given time to rest, Marten caught his breath, thanking the driver before rushing back through the ostentatious gates of the academy.