Cozy Isekai Craftsman, ch 6

Joe stepped into the jail cell, surprised by how much more spacious it was than he had anticipated. His initial thoughts of a medieval, coastal village filled with rotting wood and excrement were quickly shattered. The cell was surprisingly clean and well-maintained, with only a faint whiff of mustiness lingering in the air.

The room was smaller than he had expected, with only ten cells lining the walls. It seemed odd to him that with the harbor and numerous ships coming and going, there wasn't more infrastructure in place to house criminals. However, the cot in the corner of his cell was spotless, as if it had been recently cleaned. Joe couldn't help but wonder if this was due to a lack of criminal activity in Lockwood or if the justice system was swift and merciless.

He began to worry that if he was found guilty of whatever crime he was accused of, he might face a brutal punishment. Maybe they would hang him from the nearest tree or toss him into a pit of dragon's fire. The thought sent a shiver down his spine, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of helplessness.

The door to his cell was a simple wooden door, with a small glass window at head level. There were no bars or grates, and the space felt more like a room than a jail cell. On the other side of the door, he could see a woman with vibrant blue hair pacing back and forth. Her eyes were crisp and clean, matching the hue of her hair.

Joe strained to hear the hushed conversation between Grace and Rick, but their voices were too low for him to make out any of their words. Yet, the tension in Grace's body and the agitation in her expression were palpable. Joe couldn't help but feel a sense of unease settle in the pit of his stomach.

As he watched Rick, the gate guard, he seemed genuinely apologetic, but also determined to maintain his position. Joe took advantage of the momentary lull in their conversation to clasp his hands together and close his eyes in a silent prayer to Quinn for guidance.

"Hey, Quinn," Joe whispered under his breath, unsure if his words would be heard beyond the confines of his cell. "I don't know if you can hear me, but I need your help. Is it okay for me to tell them about our deal? And that I came from another universe? We never really talked about that."

The weight of his predicament was beginning to sink in. Joe was in a strange land, accused of a crime he didn't commit, and uncertain of his fate. He hoped that Quinn, whoever or whatever they were, could provide him with some answers and guidance.

Joe kept his hands clasped tightly, as if trying to will Quinn to answer his silent plea for guidance. "I don't want to get you in trouble," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I also don't want to lie. If it's okay with you, I want to tell them the truth." The silence stretched on, but Joe remained resolute.

As he opened his eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of the elusive Quinn, he was met with the sight of a tall Asian man entering the room. Despite his apparent age, the man carried himself with a quiet strength that demanded respect. His almond-shaped eyes were hard and clear as steel, but the lines around them softened with a relaxed expression.

Joe took in the room around him and realized it was not just a prison cell, but also an interrogation room. A small table with a few stools sat in the center, adding to the austere atmosphere. The two men gave Joe a nod of acknowledgement, but didn't speak. Joe couldn't help but wonder what this new arrival meant for his fate.

The man's officer's uniform was immaculate, with crisp lines and a polished shine that caught the light. His badges were an impressive display of authority, glinting in the dimly lit room. As he entered, he moved with a controlled grace, his movements precise and deliberate. Joe couldn't help but feel a sense of awe in the presence of such a commanding figure.

In his hand, the man held a delicate tray, adorned with a floral pattern that contrasted with the stern look on his face. Joe couldn't help but wonder how someone so tough could have such a delicate touch. The tray contained a steaming teapot, surrounded by small plates of biscuits and cookies, their aroma filling the room with a sweet fragrance.

With the ease of someone who had done this a thousand times before, the man arranged the tea set, carefully pouring out cups for himself and Joe. The clink of porcelain against porcelain filled the room, a sound that seemed out of place in such a stark environment.

The man took a sip of tea, his expression softening as the warm liquid filled his mouth. He closed his eyes in pleasure, savoring the moment. When he opened them again, his gaze settled on Joe.

Finally, he spoke. He said, "Ginseng, that's the stuff. You know, it's hard to get that in this part of the continent unless you're in a coastal city like Lockwood."

Joe blinked at him. He said, "Oh, I didn't know that," which was true. He also didn't know what else he should be saying at that moment, so he just kept silent. The man looked at him for a long moment, but it wasn't a studious expression. It was just calm, almost neighborly. He gestured to one of the open seats at the table and said, "Please."

The man said, "They call you Joe. Rick told me that your full name is Joseph Johnson, but you'd like to be called Joe."

Joe nodded. He said, "Yeah, you can call me Joe." He got up from the cot and sat on the stool that the man displayed for him.

Joe asked, "May I ask your name, sir?"

The man raised an eyebrow and smiled. "You're very polite. That's good. My name is Lucas. I am Lockwood's Sheriff,"

Joe said, "It's a pleasure to meet you," as he offered his cuffed hand, but Lucas didn't seem to mind. He shook it with a gloved hand, and when they released, Joe leaned over and grabbed a cup of tea for himself.

Lucas began pouring the tea for him and offered a small cup of honey, which he could dissolve into the tea.

Joe said, "Thank you." Lucas said, "You're welcome."

They took a moment drinking their tea before Lucas said, "It seems my officer, Sorceress Grace, has brought you under the charge of using sorcery without a permit or license, let alone any kind of credentials from an established university. "

He took another sip of tea, and spoke again, keeping his words neutral and his voice polite. "Well, I apologize for her brash demeanor, but just understand that she's very adamant about protecting the law."

Joe shrugged. "I don't mind. She's just doing her job. I'll answer any questions that you have for me, and I'll answer them honestly."

Lucas looked at him for a long moment before nodding. He said, "Good."

Joe kept his thoughts to himself. His gaze was fixed on the imposing figure before him, the man called Lucas. There was something about the way he carried himself, the way his muscles bulged against his uniform, that hinted at a past filled with battles and bloodshed. Faint scars crisscrossed both sides of his wrists and marked the back of his calloused hands, where his glove failed to protect him.

A long saber hung at Lucas's side, its lethal edge glinting in the dim light of the jail cell. Joe had a hunch that it wasn't just for decoration. He watched as the man adjusted the weapon, a subtle movement that sent a shiver down Joe's spine.

Despite being trapped in a foreign world, behind bars and at the mercy of a group of strangers, Joe couldn't help but feel a strange sense of calm wash over him. He had nothing to hide, and with no response from Quinn to warn him against speaking, Joe felt safe enough to speak the truth.

Through his time on this strange earth, Joe had come to realize that the timeless game of good cop, bad cop was not limited to his world alone. Lucas, with his vast experience, played the part of the good cop with ease. It was as if he had been born for this role. But Grace, the younger officer, was the polar opposite. Brash and impulsive, she was the perfect bad cop, a foil to Lucas's careful approach. Whether they knew it or not, the two were playing out the classic routine with Joe.

As if on cue, Grace burst into the room, her heavy boots thundering against the stone floor. There was a triumphant harrumph in her voice, as if she had just won some invisible argument outside. Joe couldn't help but feel a sense of unease wash over him as he watched her approach. Rick, standing guard outside, looked almost rejected as he gave Joe an apologetic glance before closing the door with a soft thud.

Grace's arms were tightly crossed over her chest, a clear sign of her mounting frustration. She turned her gaze towards Lucas, and the anger in her eyes seemed to double. "Sir," she began, her voice sharp as a knife, "it appears that you haven't even questioned our suspect yet."

Lucas, unperturbed, took another sip of his drink, his twirly mustache held delicately between two fingers. His gaze remained fixed on the liquid in his cup as he spoke, "On the contrary, Officer Grace, I have already interrogated him. I know that his name is Joseph Johnson, but he prefers to be called Joe. I simply wanted to give you the chance to ask him your own questions."

Grace's glare intensified, as if it could melt steel. But Lucas appeared completely unfazed by her hostility, his calm demeanor unwavering in the face of her anger.

Lucas's relaxed demeanor did little to ease the tension in the room, but he made an effort to break the silence by addressing Grace directly. "Officer, as I mentioned earlier, Joe is more than willing to answer any questions you may have.

Grace's attention snapped back to Joe as she plunked herself down on the stool, her movements forceful and abrupt. She snatched up one of the biscuits and began to chomp on it with her mouth open, her furrowed brows adding to the intensity of her expression. Suddenly, she pointed the half-eaten biscuit at Joe and began to speak, her words tumbling out in a rush.

"I cast an incantation to check for any residual sorcery on you. But I found nothing. Are you some kind of Grade B or Grade C sorcerer to avoid detection like that, or what?"

Joe was taken aback by Grace's sudden outburst. He turned to Lucas, hoping for some guidance, but the veteran officer simply raised his hands in a gesture of neutrality.

Grace continued, her tone accusatory. "Don't play coy with me. Anyone who's been to a university knows about the different grades of sorcery capability."

Joe shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "I never attended a university for sorcery," he repeated, hoping to make himself clear. But Grace seemed to revel in her own confusion, her face contorting with anger, frustration, and finally, confusion.

"Ah hah!" she exclaimed, as if she had just uncovered a vital clue. "But you have been to a university."

Joe furrowed his brow, unsure of what she was getting at. "I don't know if that's what you call them here, but in my homeland, we had something called community colleges. They were meant for people to learn about different careers and figure out what they wanted to do with their lives."

Grace's expression shifted yet again, her anger deflating like a balloon. She seemed at a loss for words, her eyes darting back and forth as if searching for some sort of explanation. Joe couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at having thrown her off-balance, even if only for a moment.

Grace turned to Lucas, searching for a lifeline. Her eyes pleaded with him to make sense of Joe's ramblings. Lucas responded with the same motion he had given Joe, a dismissive wave that made her heart sink. She couldn't believe that the man she had come all this way to see was spouting gibberish.

With a roll of her eyes, Grace said dismissively, "You're speaking nonsense."

But Joe shook his head and admitted, "You're right. Even though I'm telling you the truth, it might not make sense to you. I apologize for that."

He wasn't trying to argue; he was just telling the truth. His world was different, a place where sorcery was unknown, and the laws of nature worked differently.

Lucas, twirling his mustache, arched an eyebrow and asked, "What country are you from?" Grace held her breath, wondering where this conversation was going.

Joe didn't hesitate to answer, "I came from a country called the United States, on the continent of North America. The city I came from was called Chicago. It's a massive place, full of towering buildings, and we call it the Windy City. We have the best hot dogs, but our pizza can't compare to New York's. Our baseball team was a thrill to watch, even though they struggled at times."

Grace tried to stop him, slicing a hand through the air to cut off his words before he could delve deeper into his hometown.

"Enough," she said sharply, her voice cutting through the air like a knife. "You're making less and less sense. I'm here to talk about sorcery. Rickart told me that you could cast sorcery, and his wife even proved that you changed the alchemical properties of mundane items."

Joe nodded, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. "That's partially correct. I may not know much about alchemical properties, but I can transfer the characteristics of one object to another." He watched as Grace's confidence surged back, her spine straightening, and her wolfish grin returning to her face.

"I knew it!" Grace exclaimed, her eyes shining with triumph. "That solves the case. You cast an incantation, or a series of incantations, high-level enough to alter the physical properties of mundane objects. That's sorcery, whatever you call it. Magic, wizardry, sorcery - it's all the same thing."

Joe cocked his head to the side, his brows furrowing with confusion. "For what I know about this place, magic - or sorcery, as you call it - doesn't that involve using stars? I don't know that much about it, but isn't that the basis of sorcery? Star magic, basically."

Grace's mouth hung open for a moment as she chewed another piece of jerky. She leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest, and started to think. "There are other sorceries," she finally said, her tone thoughtful.

Lucas cleared his throat, cutting through the tension in the room. "It seems to me the problem here is that Officer Grace is accusing you of sorcery and changing the physical properties of a mundane item. However, Joe here claims that he changed the physical properties of a mundane item without the use of sorcery."

Joe nodded, his eyes steady as he met Lucas's gaze. "Yeah, that's pretty much it. I don't know how to do sorcery. And I'm pretty sure what I do, which is called magic, is fairly different from what you guys call sorcery. From what I know about it, it looks like you have to learn a lot and put yourself through a lot of schooling and education to even cast what is it you call it? Spells? Incantations?"

Lucas nodded in agreement, his mustache twitching as he did so.

Joe said, "Exactly. Incantations. I call it magic. Here, I'll show you what I can do. I can transfer the properties of one thing to another. That's the only thing that I can do. We call it magic. Or at least I call it magic. You might call it sorcery, but I'm pretty sure it's not."

Lucas's gaze remained fixed on Joe, his expression inscrutable. Grace shifted in her seat, about to speak up, but Lucas raised a slow, quiet finger, and Grace stopped herself. Lucas said calmly, his voice even, "Show me."

Joe nodded. He had thought about this already. He asked, "So, do you have handcuffs? Besides the ones that are on my wrist?"

Lucas nodded. He pulled out some handcuffs from his hip and put them on the table, pushing them towards Joe. Joe picked them up and said, "Okay. I'm going to transfer the properties of my locked handcuffs into the unlocked handcuffs that I'm holding in my hand. Please note that this is not me trying to escape. I'm just going to sit here, and you're free to transfer those properties back again."

Grace was about to say something again, but once again, Lucas raised a finger. "Go ahead, Joe. Transfer the properties of the locked handcuffs to the unlocked handcuffs."

The screens updated, and the locked handcuffs became unlocked, and the unlocked handcuffs became locked. The now freshly unlocked handcuffs fell off of his wrist and clattered to the table beneath them, while Joe held the locked handcuffs in his hands.

Grace's mouth dropped open. Her eyes went wide. She said, "By the stars, how..."

Joe grinned. "He said, 'magic.' See? I didn't use any fancy words or cool sorcery magic. I wish I could do sorcery, to be honest, but it's just simple magic."

Lucas's expression turned stone cold. The softness in his face vanished, making him look more like the sheriff of the town than he did a few minutes earlier. He leaned forward, grabbing both handcuffs, testing their weight and analyzing them from different angles.

He pocketed them onto his waist, and said, "Okay, I guess that explains everything," he said. A smile crept onto Grace's lips, and Lucas got up to put his tea set away. "He's free to leave."

Grace rose from her chair, her eyes ablaze with fury. She slammed her hand down on the table with a resounding thud. The room shook with the force of her anger. "No," she hissed through gritted teeth. "This can't be happening. We've never heard of any ability like this before. It must be some sort of web of hidden constellation sorcery-"

Lucas's voice cut through her tirade like a sharp blade. It was a command that brooked no argument. "Enough."

Grace recoiled at the sudden interruption, but her lips continued to move soundlessly as if she was still trying to voice her protest. "But sir, he has to be using sorcery. There's no other explanation for it."

Lucas rolled his eyes in exasperation and let out a long, tired sigh. "Did you see any constellation markings on his body?" His gaze flicked over to Joe, his expression inscrutable. "Mr. Johnson, it seems like you don't know that much about sorcery. Each sorcerer has the markings of stars on their body following the shape of the constellation to which they are pledged. From my view, it looks like you have no constellations on your body."

Grace's face twisted in confusion and disbelief as she struggled to comprehend what Lucas was saying. Her eyes flicked back and forth between Joe and Lucas as if searching for some hidden meaning. The tension in the room was palpable, and the air was thick with unspoken accusations.

A wave of relief washed over Joe as he heard Lucas express his satisfaction with the explanation. The prospect of learning more about this new world sent a thrill of excitement coursing through his veins.

But Grace was like a dog with a bone, her tenacity unyielding. "Sir, but you only saw a bare glimpse of him. You haven't seen other areas of his body."

Lucas let out an exasperated sigh and rolled his eyes once more. "Unless you wish to do a strip search of our guest here yourself, I don't see how."

Joe's interruption was like a bolt from the blue. "I don't mind getting naked." He started to peel off his clothes, one item at a time, beginning with his socks and shirt. He dropped his pants next, leaving him standing there in his underwear. The fact that they had underwear in this world was a small mercy. He wasn't embarrassed; he just wanted to get this whole thing over with.

Grace's eyes widened in horror, her face turning beet red. She couldn't look at him. Joe just stood there, nearly naked in front of the two police officers. He raised his hands in surrender and asked, "Is this okay? Do you want me to turn around? I can take off my underwear, but you might want to ask Officer Grace to leave. I don't really know how you guys do things here."

Lucas's eyes went wide as well, but not out of embarrassment. Instead, they shone with amusement, and his lips curled into a big, toothy grin. He threw back his head in raucous laughter, a sound that echoed off the walls and filled the room. It was a good laugh, a belly laugh, one full of abandon. He laughed for a full minute, his shoulders shaking with mirth, before he finally managed to calm down.

With a hand on Joe's shoulder, Lucas spoke through his remaining chuckles. "Joseph Johnson of North America in Chicago, you are welcome here. You'd make a good jester," he chuckled.

Joe joined in with his own chuckle. "Maybe. I do need a job." Lucas turned to Grace and asked, "Officer, does this quell any of your fears?" Grace could only manage a muffled "yes, sir" while keeping her head down, doing her best to avoid looking at Joe. She scuttled out of the room, and Joe quickly put on his pants and shirt.

Lucas stayed in the room with him, silent and thoughtful. Joe could feel the weight of the silence, but he didn't dare break it. Instead, he focused on buttoning up his shirt, feeling a little self-conscious under Lucas's scrutiny. After a few minutes, Lucas cleared his throat and spoke softly. “That was the first form of entertainment I've had in months. So thank you for that."

Joe replied, "Glad to be of service." He thought that occurred to him a few minutes earlier, but now he could finally say it since Grace was gone. He then asked, "You knew I was innocent, didn't you?"

Lucas stared at him but did not say anything.

Joe continued, "You knew from the moment I walked in that I didn't use any kind of sorcery."

Lucas asked, "Oh really? How do you know that?"

Joe shrugged and replied, "I don't know. That was just a feeling. You seemed calm and confident during the whole interaction."

Lucas answered, "I saw you praying and whispered the words 'Quinn.'"

Now it was Joe's turn to be confused. He asked, "Praying? Quinn?" Lucas clarified, "Now I definitely know you're not from here. Sorcerers don't pray."

Joe asked tentatively, “So, I can leave?”

Lucas paused, setting down the delicate tea set with care before reaching for a sheet of thick, creamy paper and a quill and ink set. He uncapped the bottle of ink and dipped the quill into it, his hand moving with practiced ease as he wrote something down on the piece of paper. Joe watched him with curiosity, wondering what kind of document he was creating. Maybe it was an official statement saying that he was free to go about his own business and practice magic and wizardry without fear of persecution.

Lucas handed the paper to him, and Joe took it with a grateful nod. "Thank you," he said, bowing his head respectfully.

The officer twirled his mustache and chuckled again, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "You're really an odd fellow, Joseph," he said before turning to leave.

Joe glanced down at the sheet of paper in his hand, his heart sinking as he read the words written there. It wasn't a waiver telling others he was okay to practice magic. It was something much worse.

"Joseph Johnson is hereby charged for the social crime of public indecency towards an officer of the law. Fine: one hundred fifty copper due May 28th, 8090."

Joe read the words again and again, not believing them. Public indecency? He just couldn’t catch a break.

Outside the room and down the hall, Lucas’ laughter echoed.