Chapter 17

Fantastical Armory, Roya Lane, London, England, United Kingdom

"It's absolutely perfect," Gen said, pulling the jacket snugger around her, enjoying the way it fit her like a glove. She couldn't imagine anything ever fitting her any better. It wasn't just made for her, but it was made around her, like it fit her personality. She was wearing the absolute perfect outfit that she would ever have.

The suit that the strange large spider, who was surprisingly gentle, made for Gen was all black and armored. However, it was light and flexible with a fitted top and short jacket that would keep her warm when riding her dragon. The bottom consisted of a half skirt, also ideal for flying through the air. And the pants were thick and allowed for movement.

But most importantly it was a fierce look, mixing both elements of medieval style with the modern era. Jeremy Bearimy and Juergen had designed Gen something that made her feel more than powerful and she almost felt ready for the next phase of her life. Almost—but not quite yet.

Gen knew there was one thing she needed. She could feel its absence at her essence. She needed her dragon to hatch, for sure. But before that, she needed a weapon that would match the power of her dragon. Gen felt that his power would be ultimate, so she needed something to complement that. But so far, she hadn't found anything that fit. Actually, she'd broken pretty much everything she'd tried, almost like she was jinxed when it came to weapons.

"I've got you covered on weapons," Sophia assured her when they entered the place that Gen had first lived upon stepping into the twenty-first century—The Fantastical Armory.

"How do you mean?" Gen asked, feeling like she was entering an old memory that was strangely new at the same time.

Sophia winked at her. "Trust me. Beaufont love all the way."

Gen didn't know what that meant, but she did feel like these people from this generation were the owners of her heart. They seemed to have her back, no matter what. So therefore, feeling like a warrior but not prepared to be in battle, she entered the place she knew that Father Time and Mother Nature called home presently. It was also a shop filled with weapons and artifacts and home to a grumpy man.

"Oh, good, another Beaufont is here," Subner, the Protector of Weapons muttered when they entered the shop of oddities.

This was the place that Gen had to call home for the days when she couldn't do anything and was waiting to be put back on her timeline. What person is told to have tea and biscuits with Mother Nature and not look out the window for days? Genevieve Beaufont. That's who.

During that time, she was pretty sure that the creator of all life told her many things secretly, but dissecting them, well, that would take some time. The woman who was the creator of all things was discreet in all ways, starting with her appearance. She wore a purple velour track suit and the whitest sneakers and had bluish gray hair to impress—all curled up like a loud and outgoing woman would have it. And although she was as old as time, literally, being mated with the creator of time—Papa Creola, she looked about seventy years old with smooth skin lined with a few wrinkles and pink lipstick and long eyelashes.

Father Time, who went by the name Papa Creola, looked like the most handsome old man one could meet. He was a silver fox with his pushed-back salt and pepper hair, sly smile and blue eyes. He was the perfect height at six feet even and the perfect build at just around one-hundred and seventy-five pounds. And he was cool with his low tone and relaxed manner to counter Mama Jamba's southern style.

Papa Creola had to regenerate his form when he reset time to try and put Gen back in the medieval era. It hadn't worked because, from what everyone could tell, she wasn't supposed to go back. This was her time. But that hard reset had caused Papa Creola to take on a new look. He went from being an elfin hippie to a halfling. Presently, he was both a magician and a fairy, having the logic of the first and the artistic and attractive style of the latter.

Gen didn't know what dictated the appearance or mannerisms of the creators of the earth or time, but she also didn't care. These two, who were the foundation of everything, did what they did because they could and who was she to question it all. If she'd been around since the beginning of everything, she'd probably have purple hair and talk in an Australian accent, just for fun. As it were, she just wanted to understand the last six hundred years and all that she'd missed.

"You don't mean that. You're not glad that we're here," Sophia said to Subner, the grumpy guy who was wearing all black with long, dark hair partially covering his face. He was a fairy in this iteration, but had his wings cut off to negate any emotional or artistic characteristics that might come with being a fairy.

The Protector of Weapons, Gen had learned, was the grouchy type. That was apparent during her time living at his shop, the Fantastical Armory, and it was almost endearing, like an old grandparent who complained about everything but secretly liked it all.

"Let me have a look at you, dear," Mama Jamba chimed in her southern accent, striding over to Gen and Sophia.

She was shorter than the two women which was saying a lot since they were both below average. Looking at her felt like staring in the mirror and then also the world at large. It was the strangest experience and Gen never thought she'd get used to it. Peering into the creator of life's eyes was more than intimidating. But then again, she didn't want to look away from the woman who was responsible for everything—quite literally.

Mama Jamba was small and spritely in her tracksuit and sneakers, with hairspray making her large hair absolutely perfect. She smiled slyly at Gen, looking at her new outfit.

"I like this new style for you," she said, a sparkle in her periwinkle blue eyes. "It suits you. It's old and new and fun and also a little rebellious."

Gen glanced down at the outfit that felt like the best thing ever and smiled. "Thanks. It feels…right."

"Remember the way this outfit makes you feel and never choose anything or anyone that doesn't measure up the same way, dear," Mama Jamba said, like she meant something really profound but was trying to be discreet.

"Okay," Gen said, drawing out the word.

"It works, for a timeless vigilante," Papa Creola said, taking the position next to Mama Jamba, making the couple look complete. He smiled and Gen felt like she was in the company of the most beautiful set of grandparents, but that wasn't the right term for them. They were that, but times a thousand.

"Vigilante makes me sound like something fierce," Gen said with a laugh.

Mama Jamba looked at Papa Creola with a knowing smile. "Wouldn't it be great if she knew…"

"It would mess up everything," he replied with a devilish grin. "And I like it much better when they have to figure it out on their own. Watching them be confused and struggle is fun."

"Yeah, you're right. I like that part too," Mama Jamba said. The pair clasped hands and turned, walking off for the pink armchairs at the front of the Fantastical Armory where they spent most of their time, plotting and planning the universe from the shop of oddities.

"You all are sadistic, and we love you dearly," Sophia said, waving to the pair's back.

"They are sly little devils, if you ask me," a woman Gen knew little about but loved dearly said, joining them.

It was one of the women who she'd followed through the time gate in 1426. When Gen had met Liv and Rose Beaufont in her timeline, she instinctively knew that something was wrong about them. Therefore, she followed the two women, stepping through a time gate to the twenty-first century, not realizing that she'd entered a world that she could never leave. And here she was, living a life with her relatives, six hundred years in the future, with the dragon's egg she'd buried all that time ago. Things sort of worked out, after all, Gen believed.

Rose Beaufont, Clark's daughter, was a Mortal Seven for the House of Fourteen. When Gen and her father, William, created the magical organization, it was composed of seven magician families, involving one councilor and one warrior from each for a total of fourteen. But over time, they realized that mortals needed to be involved for balance.

Then something horrid happened and mortals in the world wanted magic and sacrificed their souls for it—becoming witches and warlocks. That's when things turned really dark on the globe, but Rose and her husband, London Carraway, fixed all that, eradicating witchcraft for good.

Presently, Rose was pregnant with the key to fixing the balance. As the first and only half magicians and half mortals in the world, Rose and London had created what Mama Jamba called the perfect race. Their children's blood would allow all races to blend. It was the antidote to the separateness that had caused wars and divides since the beginning of time. Since Gen had been born there had always been battles between the races, but Rose and London's children were prophesied to fix all that—finally.

"Good to see you," Gen said, hugging the woman who she knew little about and loved dearly, like a sister.

"You too, Time Traveler," Rose replied, her long blonde hair flowing over her shoulders. She was only a month or so pregnant and therefore still working as a Mortal Seven, wearing her black armored suit and looking as beautiful as ever. But what was really remarkable about her was the red Chinese dragon who always floated by her shoulder.

Elvis was like a flying comedian but also the reason that Gen knew her father and sister, as Founders, watched from the Land of Chimera. That's what Elvis actually was—a chimera. However, he was disguised in tiny dragon form.

It was a strange arrangement but apparently, the Founders of the House of Fourteen decided that the Mortal Seven who usually didn't have magic, needed a way to protect themselves, so they were given chimeras. At will, these creatures disguised in animal form could transform into giant lions with a serpent as a tail and a goat's head on their back. They were fierce protectors of the Mortal Sevens they were assigned to by the Founders.

Rose, of course, as a halfling had magic, but she also had her chimera and because of her powers, Elvis could talk and was the strangest chimera in the world.

He communicated with the Elders, or rather Founders of the House of Fourteen, in the Land of Chimera and had confirmed that William and Elizabeth were there, looking down on them all and making appointments to the various organizations like the House of Fourteen, Dragon Elite, FGA and Rogue Riders.

"Did it hurt?" the floating red dragon asked Gen, looking over Rose's shoulder.

"What?" Gen asked, wondering if she missed something.

"Did it hurt?" Elvis repeated. "You know, when you fell from heaven."

Rose groaned. "I'm sorry. His thing right now is pick up lines. It's his gimmick and it's killing my spirit."

"Pick up lines," Gen mused. "So do you mean ways that men make themselves more presentable to women?"

"I like the way you put things," Sophia said, smiling. "And yes, that's right."

"I like the way you put things too," Elvis said, floating over closer to Gen, batting his eyes at her. "Also, are you a magician?"

Gen's brow furrowed with confusion. "Well, yeah, I'm a Beaufont."

"I thought so," Elvis replied, wiggling in the air like a flying snake. "Because you make everyone disappear."

Gen and the other women laughed. Subner grunted, flipping the page of his book. He always sat behind the glass counter at the back, pretending to read a book and eavesdropping on the conversation, usually making snide remarks under his breath.

"Are you the plague?" Subner asked, not looking up from the yellowed page. "Because you're killing me."

"Oh, you're feeling left out, aren't you?" Elvis sang, zooming over in the Protector of Weapon's direction. "I've got a line for you."

"Did you bring me here to meet with Subner?" Gen asked, pointing at the grouchy man, but looking at Sophia. "Is he going to help me find a weapon?"

Sophia shook her head. "I brought you here to see Rose. She has your weapon."

"She has my weapon," Subner muttered, flipping the page as Elvis settled down on the counter next to him, uninvited. The Chinese dragon didn't seem to care that he was making a mess, scattering papers and objects as he got comfortable, like a cat taking their space up high.

Gen blinked at Rose, confused. "What? What does he mean?"

Rose waved at the man, dismissively. "He's just mad because I was given Bellumferrum and I won't let him have it. I was told by its previous owner that it was to be given to a magician who was pure of heart. I didn't know who that was but now I realize that must be you."

"Oh, Bellumferrum," Gen said, enjoying the way the word rolled off her tongue. "That's a nice name…"

Rose nodded, pulling something small from her pocket. "It means Weapon of War. And it's probably the most powerful tool in existence."

"Which is why it should be mine," Subner murmured as Elvis continued to roll around on the counter, making a real mess.

"Do you have a name?" the red dragon asked, looking up at the Protector of Weapons, his long mustache unfurling. "Or can I call you mine?"

Subner ignored him, turning the page of his book.

Rose also ignored Subner, opening her hand to reveal a small obsidian cube with intricate symbols carved all around it. The object was two inches on each side and radiated a strange magic that Gen had never seen. But it was also a bit underwhelming.

Pointing at the cube, Gen said, "That's the most powerful weapon in existence?"

Rose nodded eagerly. "The way it works is that Bellumferrum only bonds to one person at a time. When needed, in battle, the person makes an intention to use the weapon and it reads their thoughts plus the needs of the situation and becomes whatever will help them. Apparently, it's a pretty big trip because you don't know what you're going to get and have a limited amount of time to figure out what it is and how to use it. But it can become anything, and therefore makes it so you are always prepared for any situation and fight."

"It's the most brilliant weapon to ever exist," Subner muttered with zero inflection in his voice. "It quite literally has a consciousness and formally bonds to the person who wields it."

This was all a bit baffling for Gen. "And it only can be used by one person?"

Rose nodded. "And currently it doesn't have an owner, but I think it should be you."

"What happened to the last person?" Gen dared to ask.

"They died in battle," Rose replied.

"But if Bellumferrum is so good, then how?" Gen questioned.

"Nothing is foolproof," Subner said, irritation in his voice as he flipped a page of his book.

Rose nodded to this. "Bellumferrum can be tricked, and it was in this situation. It became something that hindered Porthos Galopin in battle, becoming his ultimate downfall. But I firmly believe this weapon was meant for you. You're a dragonrider and this is a weapon that can adapt to all the various situations you'll find yourself in."

"And you can't break it," Sophia said with a smile.

Gen eyed the strange object, still resting in Rose's outstretched hand. "So, it can become a sword or a bow?"

"It can become anything," Subner said, sounding even more annoyed.

Gen glanced at him. "As the Protector of Weapons, if you really don't think I should have this then I'll respect it."

He actually glanced up from his book, a scowl deep on his face. "As the Protector of Weapons, I want the most powerful tools in the world. But as a citizen of this planet, I want what's best and that means, you should have it. You will need it. And the world needs you to be prepared for what's ahead or otherwise, we're all screwed."