"That is... quite impressive."

"Technology and magic together really can be. We're only just starting to explore the possibilities there. I wish I could be closer to it, honestly, but the powers that be need me here, so here I am."

"If you don't mind me asking, but do the powers that be have a reason? Particular talent for logistics, that sort of thing?"

"Precisely. That, and experience managing other witches, and the combination of familiarity with the needs of the UDF and familiarity with the area and the people we source from here."

"It's a shame when your talents keep you away from the exciting stuff. But worth it, usually."

"These idiots would hardly get anything done without me, to be honest. Well, maybe not, but I'm usually busy and I usually don't feel like my work is useless. And I do get to talk ship-building with some of the locals."

She lands the 'wing and pulls the tarp back over. The weird pattern of essence she made while using it disappears slowly. "Honestly, there's not much else to give you a tour of. This area is mostly for storage. Quarters, mess hall and lounge?"

"I should probably be able to find those myself. How 'bout I meet you tomorrow, and we can discuss under-the-table stuff?"

"It's not under the table, it's just not as a member of the UDF. I'll see if I can find the time. We're handling a large prototype headed for Manchester tomorrow, so it'll be busy. Probably best to plan for some time in the afternoon. Okay. I'll start on the paperwork if I get the chance. Good evening, and I look forward to working with you."

"Ehh, it doesn't matter to me what level of official it's on. Though it not being under the table is, like, nice. Good evening to you too, and I'll catch up with you tomorrow afternoon."

She heads off to find Sandra.

Sandra is leaning against a wall inside the post office, reading a letter. She folds it up carelessly and sticks it into one of the big pockets on her jacket. "Hey, welcome back. Ready to take off? What kinda places you want to see?"

"Hi! You've probably got a better idea of what's interesting in this city than me, so you should probably lead."

"Music? Good food? Shows? Shopping? Gambling? Fights? Parks? Library? Heh. Library. I'll cover you for the day if you pay me back later."

"On the one hand, I feel like I should be the responsible adult here-- but watching fights is just so fun!"

"I don't know how exciting it'll be as a display of martial skill, but watching shirtless guys hit each other is usually exciting in at least one other way. Let's go." She starts heading for the door.

"People who know what they're doing are fun to watch-- but people who don't are ten times more entertaining."

Marena follows.

Sandra comments on this or that store or park as they make their way to a fighting arena she knows.

They walk up in the middle of a bout between a beefy blonde guy and an older, wiry man. The old guy almost casually picks apart the young guy's defense and batters him with punches that get past the defense. The young guy manages a heavy hit, but the old-timer ducks away casually, turning it into a glancing blow.

"Farm muscles don't make you a boxer, sonny!"

"Yeah," Sandra comments, "My money's on the old guy. That's Slim. I don't recognize the slab of muscle, he must be new."

"I'm assuming Slim is a regular? He definitely looks like he has a better idea what he's doing."

"Yeah, Slim's a regular. The army wouldn't take him, too old. But he says he won't quit until someone manages to break him. I guess it's his prerogative. Teach this kid a lesson, Slim!" She shouts the last bit.

The fight continues. The big blonde guy focuses on defense as people jeer and make bets. Most of the money is on Slim to win. Big Guy barely seems fazed by Slim's attacks, though he still doesn't manage to land more than a glancing hit in return.

"Yeah, go Slim! ...Didn't know the army had an age limit. Hopefully I'm not over it."

"I think they figured he'd be more trouble than he was worth."

"Okay, yeah, streetfight guy would probably cause problems.

...probably wouldn't do anything too bad for morale though, if he picked the right fights."

"These rinks are legal, you know. Just frowned upon by the hoity-toities. They'd rather experience more refined and sensible violence, like hawking, horseback duels, or hunting foxes."

"Ah, so this is the sport of the common people got it. All the best sports are. Once the nobles get in, everything becomes stodgy and gets a multisyllabic name."

"Some people say witches are a little bit noble-y. Forget 'em. Ooh!" She winces as the big guy manages to feint and jab Slim hard. "I think Slim got overconfident. Maybe I should bet on the new guy just in case. That hit was nasty."

Slim laughs and just steps up the taunting more, trying to get his opponent angry and off-balance.

"...Nah, nevermind, he's still got this."

"Ehh, I was a noble. So not worth it.

Big Guy isn't bad, but Slim knows more of what he's doing. Yeah, Slim's got this."