Mutation in one second

Gray's final remark had been a good one: you needed a piece of source substance inside you, too.

"Thanks for the reminder." Gordon watched him leave, gently sensing the fine thread deep within his mind.

Unbroken Strings hung there quietly.

Source substance was a very subtle concept.

The good news: source substance could make people stronger.

The bad news: everyone knew the good news.

So came robbery, deception, trade, slaughter... everyone played to their strengths.

If Gordon wanted a better life now, he had to keep pursuing source substance and power. There was no turning back down this road.

The Silver Fish Casket was his next point of access.

The Montfort carriage took Gordon and Charlotte back to the East District.

There was a history class that morning. Gordon and Charlotte sat in the classroom for a full hour.

According to the teacher, every monarch in the history of the Logris Empire had been exceptionally wise. They had been particularly adept at spreading their civilizing mission, safeguarding other countries' treasures, and facilitating the migration of labor across oceans.

Gordon thought that made sense.

Robbery on the road was a crime. At sea, it was competition and expansion. Keep it up for a few generations, and it could go into the textbooks.

The bell rang, and the students flooded out like birds set free, carrying books, lunch boxes, and a deep, abiding hatred of homework.

Gordon returned to the biomedical building.

The dissection room still had that familiar smell: preservative fluid, metal, wood... and the roommates sitting in glass jars.

In the corner, the Spider Aberration lay motionless.

[Spider Aberration corpse. Once very dangerous; now mostly takes up space.]

Gordon adjusted the angles of its legs to suggest the tension before an ambush, then polished its carapace.

Now it actually had a certain solemn dignity.

[Spider Aberration specimen. Trying to prove it did not die for nothing.]

That confirmed something for Gordon. Rearrange an object's state, and the text would change its tune, too.

When Professor Winslow walked in, he found Gordon grooming the dead spider for viewing.

"You've been fussing over that spider for quite a while now. Since that public lecture," Winslow said.

"I'm securing academic sponsorship for the university," Gordon said.

"With a dead spider?"

"Allow me to correct you. This is an [adult Spider Aberration specimen previously used for teaching in a public lecture at the Royal Academy of Natural Sciences University]. All that separates trash from treasure now is a certificate!" Gordon adjusted the spider's legs into their most imposing position.

Winslow had to admit it.

From certain angles, it did possess an eerie beauty.

"...Sounds like you have a buyer in mind," he said.

"The Montfort Family." Gordon found the day's newspaper that the professor had brought.

The front-page headline read, "Blackwater River management conference concludes: His Majesty approves staggering budget proposal."

Beside it was a report so small it looked like a typesetting error: "Large quantities of Deepclaw Demon materials appear at Old Fish Market; origin unknown."

"They heard the emperor was going to clean up the Blackwater River, so the Aberrants came ashore to kill themselves?" The professor linked the two stories with his own theory.

"Uh, more or damn well less. Let me explain-the Montforts have an old item in their collection," Gordon said. "A Silverfish Casket. It was empty when they bought it. Recently, it began producing deposits that have a luring effect on Deepclaw Demons."

"Go on." Winslow's interest stirred. "It sounds like some sort of spiritual reaction."

"Of course, the Montforts aren't afraid of Deepclaw Demons. They're simply especially passionate about academia. So, upon discovering a problem with their old collectible, they decided to donate it to the university," Gordon said. "But nobles can't donate for nothing, and our university can't take something for nothing. So I proposed a compromise."

"Ah, trade the spider for the Silverfish Casket." Winslow understood at once. "You certainly know how to find work for a corpse."

"Yes, it's very fair. The spider goes to prison in the Montfort collection room, and the Silverfish Casket comes to the university for continuing education," Gordon said. "The paperwork is ready. All it needs is your signature, and we're set."

Winslow took the clipboard.

Gordon had already written the explanation, with proper wording and a rigorous structure, inventing an unbreakable friendship between the Montfort Family and the Royal Academy of Natural Sciences University.

"I can sign this. You really have restored it very well. Of course, whether you can exchange it for that casket depends on whether they agree," Winslow said.

"They certainly will. Your signature alone would convince them to make the trade."

That sounded like flattery. But Professor Winslow liked flattery backed by facts.

The professor signed, then stamped it with his seal.

Noah Winslow.

His handwriting was elegant and orderly. Every letter had received a good education and knew better than to run wild across the page.

As the fountain pen's final stroke settled, the Spider Aberration corpse began to rise in value.

It could not change the fact that the spider was dead, but it could change how everyone saw it.

"Thank you, Professor."

"Don't thank me yet. Actually, you mentioned something that interests me greatly: you said these 'Silverfish Casket deposits' attract Aberrants. I want to reproduce that. If something can't be reproduced, it doesn't hold up in my book." Professor Winslow was skeptical.

Gordon's heart sank.

He suddenly had a premonition that graduating from this university would be difficult.

"We'd have to go to the river for that," Gordon said.

"Then let's go. Think of it as fishing. I haven't been fishing in ages."

Going fishing with Professor Winslow was a rare opportunity indeed.

"But Professor, there aren't just Deepclaw Demons in the river. There are Poison Eel Demons, Giant Claw Demons... even Sea Dragon Demons at the estuary. With all due respect, Professor, you don't look like someone who knows how to use a harpoon," Gordon said.

"Child, I never worry about such things," Winslow said.

Right. Gordon understood.

Someone at the professor's level was bound to have his own means.

Gordon crossed the campus.

Afternoon sunlight fell across the flagstone paths. Students poured out of the buildings, chatting about lunch, prayers, tennis, and how they would spend next month's Rescue Festival holiday.

Charlotte sat on the steps sketching, a ribbon pinned in her golden hair, her face youthful and lovely.

She was easy to pick out in a crowd. Charlotte was so radiant that if the gas lamps ever failed one evening, they could invite her to sit in the room all night.

Besides, everyone else gave her a wide berth.

Though she was fairly pleasant to Gordon, she was extremely cutting toward her classmates. Anger her, and one well-trained eye roll could instantly grind someone's self-esteem into the dirt.

Gordon called out to her.

"What's that?" She noticed the large box in his arms.

"A rare collectible." Gordon smiled.

Charlotte stopped drawing, her gaze shifting from the box to his face.

"I have a bad feeling about this."

Gordon opened the box.

[Display specimen certified by Professor Winslow. Happens to look like a spider.]

"Isn't this... the one I gave you eighteen silver pounds to buy?" Charlotte did not know whether to laugh or cry.

"Its value has multiplied several times over." Gordon handed her the clipboard.

When Charlotte saw Winslow's signature, her expression slowly changed.

"Yes, my father will accept this." Charlotte's expression was complicated.

"He wants a respectable reason," Gordon said. "I'm giving him one."

"And you?"

"I want the Silverfish Casket."

"And the professor?"

"He wants something he can study."

Charlotte fell silent for a moment.

"So you sold one stinking spider three times," she said.

"Don't make it sound so ugly," Gordon said. "Besides, it has a very important meaning."

"What?"

"Do you remember that collection room?" Gordon looked at her. "There are things your ancestors left behind, things your father bought, and things from all sorts of people named Montfort, desperately trying to prove they once existed. But nothing of yours."

"..." Charlotte pressed her lips together.

"Now that's changed, Charlotte. This is my gift to you. This is your collectible."

Charlotte said nothing more.

She looked at the document Gordon had written, line by line.

She saw Winslow's seal and signature in the corner, and the line tucked among the words: "Dedicated to Charlotte Montfort."

Then she looked again at the spider, restored to flawless condition.

So ugly.

So earnestly ugly, and so suddenly expensive.

Yet at that moment, it was like a bouquet Gordon had taken a long, winding route to place in her hands.

"Next time you give a girl a present, don't give her something this frightening," Charlotte said.

"Next time, I'll have a bigger budget," Gordon said.

Charlotte accepted it without hesitation. Gordon's hands grew lighter, but he felt her gaze upon him grow heavier.

It seemed some gifts brought back more than money.

[Charlotte Montfort's collectible. It now holds many meanings.]