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

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  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.