Author's Notes:

Holy Shit!

It only took what... four months?

Quick explanation, I got a promotion which net me more work, longer hours, etc. That threw off my writing schedule and everytime I think I can get used to it something happens (a guy quits and I have to do their job). Last friday I did a 14hr shift of constant physical labour.

------ Kordic Arc Chapter 14 ------

“Young one, we will begin your first day here introducing you to the monastery. As a major in the land’s lore I educate the youth in the history that came before them.”

I sit on a cushion of fur stuffed with wool, to my front an elder ordumirt who sits on the other side of a small fire. The flickering light between us illuminates his face with a warm orange light.

He chuckles lightly, “You can call me Edrich, I normally do this earlier in the year when more students arrive, I have not seen any make the trip during the winter.”

“Is it inconvenient?” I ask.

“No no,” his hand waves in front of his face causing the fire’s smoke to wave to the sides.

“A long journey in the cold is hard for those who have grown up under sheltered roofs with warm fires.” He makes a somber smile while staring into the small flames.

“In my own youth I had a little taste of it, spending the cold nights under the stars with only a fire shared between us. With my aging body I only spend nights outside during the warmer summer.”

I nod, after spending nights outside in the cold I understand a bit of what he means. If it was summer, then my fingers, toes, and the tip of my nose wouldn’t have felt so numb.

“Sharing a fire in the cold is an experience.” I comment.

Edrich’s eyes lighten up.

“Oh yes, it was very common for our ancestors. Adventurer companies were founded around the light of fire, those who gathered enough companions to sustain greater numbers became warlords. Which led some to become kings.” He begins to say.

“Our monastery’s founder and Archi was the magi to Edren of Condrica, the first king of Condrica.”

Edrich pauses for a moment, he notices from my expression that I do not know much about this.

“When the first king of the mirts, Ordumar retired and became a king, his large company of adventurers were divided. Those who chose to continue as adventurers joined with Edren’s company, Edren was the most influential warlord within Ordumar’s company.”

“Edren moved the company south where the Condrican river joins with the great Vala river, there he set up his staging base for supplies and defense against the southern goblins.” He raises his hands up to the walls decorated with images faintly light by the fire’s light.

“Our Archi, the Magi of Edren and keeper of relics, Sonder Beiyor accompanied Edren on many campaigns into Goblin lands. Archi Beiyor set up this monastery for archiving the relics and knowledge gained from these campaigns.”

The decorations are hard to make out with the dim flickering light, I can tell that they are made with wool dyed in different colours. Although the range of colours is very limited, much of it is brown and black.

Some of the threads must be made with metals as the light glitters from those threads, much like the silver and gold threads I have seen on officers. Edrich also has some glittering threads embroidered into his robe, a symbol representing his position on his shoulders.

“The tapestry here highlights some of the great battles, the Siege of the Black Berra Citadel being one of the most epic.” Edrich notes, “I spent most of my time studying the epic scale of the conflict as many adventurers come seeking advice for the dangers of attacking fortified goblin positions.”

He gives a faint smile while looking over the tapestries.

“There is not as much of a living in teaching the history of our migrations or cultures as teaching the history of our wars.”

I nod knowing a little more about how much value the goblin silk and ores can have after someone skilled produces fine silks or sithril. Successful adventurers can gain a lot of wealth from the goblins in their defensive homes.

“If a large company can penetrate the goblin defenses, they would make a lot from it.” I comment.

“Ah, yes yes, hiring the labour to build this monastery was all tanks to that kind of wealth. Normal wooden foundations would eventually rot, unlike stone.” He taps his feet on the stone floor.

The stones are cut and roughly smoothed into uneven shapes that usually are square. In some areas the stones are quite cold but here where there is a warm enough fire the heat is held in the rock.

Much of the upper floors are all wood though, I do not believe that stone roofing would be a good idea.

“I suppose we should move onto the main matter, what your focus of study will be.” Edrich says, adjusting his posture on the fur cushion.

“I know from the message that you have shown talent for healing magic, a valuable prospect; however, here we can expand your study to include others areas. I say this because you should look into a job within the monastery.”

“Healing isn’t a job?” I ask.

“Well, being in a remote area during the winter means there are very few opportunities to practice it. Many healers take practical leaves for a season or two so, the ones who are here for the winter may still be around.”

He looks around for a moment, maybe someone would catch his eye but the room has only three others quietly talking amongst themselves.

“I can also assume many would travel north to find some experience with the army at Calbin.”

“I do practice some herbalism and potion brewing.” I say.

“Oh, that would find you more work here. There are certainly more who pass their time brewing potions and other concoctions, even I have dabbled a little in it.” Edrich nods a few times.

“There are more jobs than that and finding work is the best way to learn something, if someone of a major rank or above feels it is worth teaching you then you can get a better education.”

“Until then, there are some general programs the monastery organizes that teach reading and writing. Most students here come for that.”

“Where do I go?”

“There are three teachers who usually hold a room for it, morning, noon, and evening openings. Whichever works for a schedule you want, just pick a teacher and keep to the same one to avoid confusion.”

Edrich looks over to his right.

“In the far end of the northern wing is one of the small halls will usually host a writing course.” He pauses for a moment, “I do not know which, there are three rooms, at least one should be used right now.”

“Well… the rooms are always being used for writing, when a teacher is not present the rooms have the equipment needed for practice anyway.”

“Is that it?” I ask.

“You study and practice what you want, book libraries are spread between a few of the rooms. Some will need permission from the right monastery chapter, you gain favour through work and find better teachers.” Edrich reaches over for a long stick, the burnt tip is used to stoke the flames.

Sparks surge out of the bright fire coals, floating into the air.

“So, I should start with writing?”

“The writing rooms are a place where everyone goes, you may find some helpful people there. However, you mentioned herbalism as one skill.” he places the stoking stick over his knees and looks over at me.

“Start in a few places and spend the first year working under a few different mirts. If you catch anyone’s attention they will come to you.”

After a quick stretch Edrich continues to say, “The best way to keep your scholarship going is to study under a major within one of our chapters, your costs will be waved that way.”

I nod my head, it makes sense that I would not be able to eat and sleep here forever. I will have to figure out some ways to earn billets or have the next year’s costs waived.

“Where is a good place to study potions?”

“Hmmm… that is difficult to say.” Edrich moans, “Hnnnn… apothecarian majors have workshops around the place.”

He thinks for a moment again.

“Some specialize against blights, others on tonics that strengthen the body, some strengthen the mind. Potions for healing. Potions for magic. Potions for some… other uses as well.”

“Like?”

“Poison. Fire oils. Many are dangerous to make.”

“Would I meet different brewers at the writing rooms?”

“Certainly. Though you would likely not meet the majors themselves, their students would be there.”

I continue to nod twice.

“Right, do not shy from asking for help, I know some are more guarded than others but you are new here. Your behaviour should be pardoned, it would not be proper to show you hostility right now.”

“In the future…?”

“Well, in the future you may become a rival.” he chuckles.

“Onwards then, show some curiosity.”

Edrich gives me a light smile and raises his hand.

My legs are a little cramped from being seated but I spring onto my feet anyway.

“I guess I should get started.” taking a look back at Edrich I watch his response.

He nods to me before going back to looking at the fire.

I feel a little hesitant to just go off on my own.

This may be part of the learning experience, doing things on my own. The feeling of my own responsibility twists at my guts, I had been lead around most of the year afterall.

I take a breath in and resolve my first choice to find to the writing rooms.

Edrich and I were in one of the central rooms, I can imagine the main building being like three long buildings. Two are parallel with the middle building connecting the two together from the center.

In order to move through to the northern section I leave through the only door to the main hallway. It is dark and colder, only light by a few candles along the way. There must be a similar room to my left as the one Edrich is left in.

The hall opens up when I pass the side rooms, with the extra space there are benches lined up facing the walls. Against the walls I can see stone figures, each different from the other.

However, one statue attracts my attention first. While the others are carved from stone and polished, this one is coated in silver and positioned in the middle of the hall.

With folded wings it is perched atop a stone with soft eyes staring ahead, feathers of different birds hang from thin strings to decorate the large statue. Colourful beads layer between the feathers to create more vibrant reflections against the silver statue.

The orange light from many candles leaves few shadows on the statue, its brightness against the dull wood and stone of the building causes it to glow with what looks like power.

I cannot feel anything like mana.

While looking around I can see students and others seated around the statues in quiet prayer or meditation. With another look around the statue figures share some similarities with spiritual deities.

The silver statue in the center must be Adeil, spirit god of mountain winds, the principal deity for this monastery. I can guess that the bird-like appearance is to show Adeil’s power over the winds.

Similarly, other statues share common designs with the deity’s power. One feminine one which is designed with skin like bark and moss decorations is likely Faelin. It comes the closest to matching her power and history.

I make my way around the bright Adeil statue and head to the hall’s exit.

“Ailoe,” I hear spoken in frustration.

“Kolka Yaroc.”

I glance to my right, around the corner from the door I spot someone looking down the hallway to the right. There is a small crowd moving away from the person and I see one of their members turn back and give a sour expression.

Ash brown hair, my first instinct is to stop.

This person turns around, her violet red eyes look over at me, it is the girl from yesterday.

Should I back off?

“You... spar again.” she says.

Her awkward words contrast her stoic expression. I can tell something is annoying her and I doubt it is me, but I think she might want to take her frustration out on me.”

“Um.” I hesitate at first, “... I need to find the writing room.”

I see her glance to her right at a nearby door, it is partially open filled with candle light.

I pick up the pace and head to the door.

The girl is only a few steps behind, shadowing me.

I have to clear my throat of the tension while I make it to the door.

Inside there are around a dozen others working on tables positioned throughout the room.

“Hm?” At the head of the room someone notices me enter.

After a quick survey of those in the room, the one at the head is the eldest. If they are the teacher I should speak with him first.

“Hello.” I start with a greeting.

My stomach feels tense from just the greeting.

“Hi.” he replies and his eyes glance over my shoulder.

He notices the shadow looming behind me before he turns his attention back to me.

Part of me wanted him to help, or at least for the girl to move on!

“I heard some word about someone new. Would that be you?” he asks.

“Yes, I should start here right?”

“Hn.” He nods, “Though you will need a tutor to teach you how to read before you write. Some of the students here can teach you that”

“I can read and write a little.”

He raises an eyebrow and looks me over again before picking up a thin wood plank with words carved into its smooth surface.

“Can you read this?”

“Midday on the fourth of budding, twenty bushels of grain, five cases of fruit, and two racks of fish were delivered to the storeroom.”

My mind pauses for a moment, this is an old record of a delivery isn’t it?

“Good. Take this and copy the words so I can see your form.”

He hands to me a board with wooden frames about the length of my arm. Within the frame is a smooth and glossy material, I press into it with my finger. It is wax.

Tied to a string there is a thin wooden tool with a sharp bronze tip. The others in the room are using the same kind of tool to carve the words into the wax.

I had learned to write with ink and a sharpened feather, my quill is still in my bag. Ink is generally made from mixing tree resin with something dark like charcoal and adding water if it hardened too much.

While inspecting the tool I find an unoccupied stool at an empty table, the stool stands a little high so my feet dangle but I should be able to work from here.

The groaning of wood against wood sounds from my left as another stool is dragged to my side. That girl shadowing me sits atop it beside me with her own set of a wax tablet and wooden plate to copy words.

Her writing form is pretty good compared with my stiff attempts to carve the wax with the small bronze edge. Maybe a compliment would help keep her from trying to fight me.

“You write well.”

She sends me a sharp look before speaking.

“Ordu words are… easy.”

Her reply is spoken poorly; however, she writes well.

“It is not your language?” it had been on my mind that she would likely speak a different language.

Her reply is a single nod.

From under her hair I can see a bit of her ear, it is angled slightly downwards and the length of the tip would be longer than other mirts. My mind struggles to recall the racial name of that characteristic.

“Are you from the south?” I ask, knowing that the race would be from the south.

Also from the east if I remember some of what my old teacher Darren told me of his homeland in the east. They had been conquered by a kingdom of another race of mirts.

“Yes” she answers.

Maybe I should not bring up things like wars and conquest with someone who I am worried will try and beat my face in again.

Awkwardly I do not continue the conversation, carving words into the wax should be my priority right now. The room is pretty quiet and more talking could be rude so, I focus on studying the wood carvings and how the cuts are shaped.

Some parts are carved thicker than others, to match it I have to twist the edge to widen or narrow my cut. Some cuts start thick and end thin, others go thin, thick, thin.

Maybe it is not that important and is just style?

When I read words in ink they have less noticeable markings and are often just lines with the same thickness. From a quick comparison the width does look nicer when it varies.

If I were to carve the end of my quill I might be able to have the same effect with ink.

That would have to wait for when I can write well enough to match the skill of this wooden plate. I become engrossed in the art of it, putting much time into testing different ways to create the right curve and shape. I only have been copying one word for most of my practice.

My tablet’s wax surface soon runs out of available space, I pause to look around. Maybe I can find someone cleaning the tablet to learn what to do.

There is an area of the room where more tablets are stacked in a small pile. Near the room’s small fire some coals are placed into a clay bowl. Above the bowl is a shelf with a flat metal tool, one of the students takes it and holds their wax tablet over the hot coals.

When a few seconds have passed, they flip the wax side back up and smooth the wax out and return to their seat.

With some resolve I make my way over there to try for myself.

Unfortunately the tool placed on the shelf is a little awkward to reach for with my height. Everyone else seems to be older so they can reach easier. At least the clay bowl is placed on a short stool that I can hold my tablet over.

The warm light from the coals begins to shine against the wax as it turns soft.

When the wax begins to sag slightly I flip the tablet back up and spread the soft wax over the carved words I had made. With a few swipes there was enough smooth space for me to write on again so I place the smoothing tool back and make my way to the seat I had used before.

I hear the word “Ailoe” spoken again to my left, with a glance I see the girl beside me rolling her eyes up for a moment.

Her expression is not directed at me, three others have approached her from behind. Two girls and one guy, I see the guy is trying to show off his wide shoulders and his height. Though he only stands a little taller than the girls he holds an intimidating pose.

The guy shoots a glare at me, in reaction I look away but there was not much threat behind it. It felt like a breeze of air brushing my face. Nothing like the kind of expression filled with hatred that those koblins and goblins had.

Of the two girls, one stands at the lead with a mocking expression as she looks over what the girl beside me is doing.

I should learn some names but then again, I do not want to be apart of this mood. Maybe I could leave to look for some more words to practice to avoid a fight.

I know the girl beside me is tough in a fight.

Checking the guy out, his figure is mostly hidden under clothes; however, I can tell his forearms are pretty thin. Most men I have seen with fighting skill have pretty thick forearms for holding their weapon and a shield.

Even archers have very strong back muscles, the thickness of his neck hints that he has little practice in that as well.

I get another glare from him but I am late to look away.

“What’re ya lookin’ at?” he scoffs.

Uhoh.

“What, are you together with her?” the lead girl says with a smile.

“I’m new,” I begin with, “she showed me where the writing room is.”

“You should keep your distance from her, just some advice.” she adds.

I raise an eyebrow, the guy notices this and begins to lean towards the girl beside me.

“She’s a-” he begins to reach towards her hair when his hand is knocked away.

The girl a violet-red glare back, her posture opens up as she turns around on the stool, clearly ready to fight. The guy does not take the invitation and backs up one step, he notices the looks from some of the other students inside.

They are not going to do anything but maybe he will not risk a fight in front of so many.

Also, is the teacher here?

I look towards the desk where the teacher was when I came but he is not there.

I did hear that the instructors come and go throughout the day between the writing rooms, maybe he went to go eat. I could use some food now that I think about it.

“Hey, you listening kid?”

Oh, he is still irritated.

“I was just thinking about what to eat.” I reply.

His face distorts.

It is kind of nice to see.

“What’s wrong with him?” the lead girl says, leaning towards the other girl.

It is pretty clear she does not care if I hear her.

The room’s orange candle light makes it a little difficult to see the three’s features, they all wear fur coats without any patches or exposed sewing. It must be pretty good quality and new.

“Let’s leave, we gave you a warning.” she finishes, turning away to leave the room with the other two behind her.

Okay, that was not too bad.

Looking back at the girl beside me.

I really need to learn her name.

“So.” I begin to say.

She twitches a little and looks over her shoulder. Her eyes look over at the wax tablet I had smoothed over, she isn’t giving me the usual eye contact.

It feels a little awkward now but I should get this over with.

“Your name, I do not know it.”

“Leni.” she replies in a lower voice.

“Kordic. Though my mom and many others just say Kordi… It kind of rhymes with yours.” I rub the back of my head with an awkward smile.

I should take the friendly approach if I want to avoid getting into another fight.

Leni nods, looking back at her own tablet, she fiddles with her carving tool.

“Umm… I should ask where I can get some food before I starve.”

She looks back at me, her face is a little blank now.

Please don’t look at me like that, I just got here and I only snacked on the food I brought with me so far. I know this place has food, I have been copying the word for grain a few dozen times already!

Leni stands up and takes a few steps away from her stool.

“Follow.”

Okay, I will leave the wax tablet here, it is recently smoothed so it should be okay. Though Leni’s tablet is not cleaned, that probably means someone else has to do it.

I follow her out of the room while pondering if I should have told her to clean her tablet.

It may have annoyed her, I have a good mood going... I think.

She is not sending me glares at least.

While thinking about it, that one guy was going to point out her ears before Leni smacked his hand away. Kridimirt ears point up, ordumirt ears do not. Then there is another mirt group whose ears point down.

I ask myself this again but I still cannot recall their name.

If it is a bad topic then I should wait to ask once the mood improves.

My mood improves with food, hopefully hers will as well.

This time I follow behind her as we make our way through the main hallway, it is difficult to really see the details inside the building when only a few candles are mounted along the way. It does provide enough light to see the walls and other people.

However, it could be difficult to find my way without clear markings.

We pass through the very well light room of statues and prayer, it is certainly an easy mark to find. It would be impossible to really get lost when this room exists in the center of the whole place.

Finding anything outside of here will be a challenge.

The writing room I had been in was not well marked, if I could smell the warm wax then I could find a way to tell. Yet, my nose has already been desensitized from sleeping in a room full of pine needle wax.

The wax I had been working with did not have the same fragrance. Maybe it is a different wax?

Leni makes a turn into a different room, I had lost track of exactly where she had led me but the simple layout of the building should allow me to retrace my steps easily enough.

Inside this room I am greeted with a wave of moist and warm air, the odor of cooking starch and roots flows through my nose.

This is where food must be, although it is not as appetizing of a smell as it could be.

Within the room the bulk of the space is filled with long tables and stools like the writing room; however, there are only simple wooden tools and bowls. The bowls are stacked at least ten high in a shallow basin while the tools are in baskets.

I take a closer look at the baskets to see they are mostly for spoons, one basket has a twin pointed prong on the end. Leni simply grabs a spoon and bowl before walking towards the part of the room where the adjacent room connects.

There, a woman is sitting near some bronze pots covered with wooden lids.

When she sees Leni, the woman leans over to carve a mark onto a thin board of wood.

After that, she opens the lid on one of the pots to spoon out a sticky glob of bland paste. The moist slopping sound splats against Leni’s bowl.

I take a bowl and spoon and approach.

If the food is that moist then there isn’t much need for other utensils.

“You are new.” the woman says.

“Not very common to see new faces during the winter.”

“I’ll hear that a lot won’t I?” I ask in reply.

She smiles as the light from a nearby candle flickers.

“Yes, it gets stuffy and boring here during the winter. Many took the opportunity to race up north to Calbin so, it has become more empty than usual. It should be easier to recognize you at least.”

Her hand takes the wooden board as she angles it against the candle light.

“Your name? I keep track of how many meals we provide each day, you get three.”

I look over my shoulder for a moment, Leni has moved over to a nearby table which is empty. She begins to stir and probe the mush with her spoon releasing steam.

“If it is not enough you will need to either pay with your own billets or earn some ration billets some jobs provide.” She adds.

This reminds me of the food rationing in Calbin, I ended up with a pretty big pile of unused billets. They were handed out to me for my healing work by the handful. The rations were just wooden sticks carved into the shape of a billet.

After a short pause, I realise that she is waiting for me to answer.

“Kordi.” I reply in habit.

Ah. Should I have said Kordic?

Too late, the woman carves something into the wooden board before opening the pot to spoon my meal.

The mush slops into the bowl with a weight that could knock my grip loose. Steam rises against my face with little odor, I question myself about how it will taste.

I poke it as I walk towards the tables.

There are not many seated here, the only one I know is Leni and I hesitate to join her.

Or would it be awkward to sit at an empty table?

Part of me would like to just avoid getting into a fight either with Leni or those around her.

My legs pace a little as I debate with myself.

Distancing myself right now would be rude but if I do not would I get targeted by others?

My hands holding the wooden bowl begin to get very hot pressuring me to put the bowl down and let the slop cool on a table.

Leni glances over to me while she continues to stir the hot slop in her bowl marking the end of my time to decide.

My morals get the best of me as I sit at the same table, diagonally on the other side from her though. That should be fine right?

I check over my shoulder to see if anyone is sending any bad looks at me for this decision. No one here seems to care here so, I can feel a little relieved.

The food in my bowl is not appetizing as it is a pale tan with bits of dark grain husks. Yet, I am hungry enough that the faint smell is inviting enough for me to scoop a little up and raise it to my mouth.

Ouch, the mush is hot as I touch it with my upper lip.

Licking the bit stuck to my lip off saved me from getting burnt, I spread the small amount around my tongue to quickly cool it.

No flavour.

I imitate Leni’s poking and scooping method to release more steam to try and cool it quicker. There is a sort of twisted sense of anticipation now as I want to eat and get this over with but I have to cool it.

With another look around I take notice that the mood is not that lively, no one is talking amongst each other. Either it is their courtesy to stay quiet while eating or this food drained their will to enjoy themselves here.

I have been in places like that at an Inn in Calbin or the Manour I had become used to the noise and conversations bussing through the hall.

Only the nose of people cooling their meal can be heard.

Plop. Slop.

This is almost torture from my hungry self.

I will use a little magic to pull the heat out from it. It may be a little trivial but now that I have thought of it I want to do it.

With a scoop of my spoon I focus on the pale steamy lump. While fire magic adds heat in a very violent way, Ice magic seems to be about violently removing the heat.

At least that I what I think, there is not much I have learned so far about ice magic compared with fire so, it is not as easy as I had initially thought. On top of that, the pasty slop is holding its heat in very well.

The puzzle before me must be overcome to satisfy my hunger, I could wait for it to cool normally.

Or leave the bowl out in the snow for a bit.

Instead I challenge the slop atop my spoon that I will eat it.

On a more serious thought, I will want to see what I can learn about ice magic while I am here. The mercenary mage Doore did know some cool ice magic but I was not around long enough to ask him anything.

To start with, I am very familiar with water magic and steam is very hot water that becomes a cloudy mist. If the steam stops flowing out then there is much less heat inside. With that in mind I can easily tell if what I do is working or not.

Blowing air over the spoon will cool the surface and push the warm air and steam away, this is the method everyone else in the room are doing. They then stir the cooler surface into the warmer center.

Now then, I could use my magic in a similar way as the air but chill the air more than normal. However, if I can cool it in a uniform way that would be quick and pretty useful.

With my magic I focus on the center of the scoop, I focus on reducing the warmth in the center first before expanding my point of focus outwards.

There is a sense of feedback as I do this, it is hard to really describe but it is something anyone using magic feels. Many who cannot use magic were just unable to find this “feeling” that triggers and controls it.

It also gauges how much mana is being used, there is a pulling sensation as mana is drawn out.

What I am doing is very faint, this may be what some have explained to me as my mana focus being very good. As I grow the focus point it becomes easier to feel and control but also this draws more mana.

In response to this the steam quickly begins to subside.

I bring the spoon into my mouth.

Hmm… a little cool, I got carried away.

At least I still have a full bowl to practice with. I do not mind playing with such a bland meal, there was no impact of flavour or desire to savour the taste.

Within the next few spoonfuls I begin to get the right amount of warmth to reduce and I also get a feeling for knowing the kind of temperature it is at.

But I want to try something different now, I feel more satisfied with something in my stomach I now can relax and do some tests. Instead of just reducing the heat within, what if I push the heat out faster?

There is a similar method to the steam ball I used against that black armoured goblin only I contained the heat’s attempts to break out as I added more heat.

I would not want such a violent release of heat as that, I can try a more gentle method here. For the sake of cooling my food.

To do this I start the same way, focusing on a fine point within before expanding out. The difference is that instead of just doing that I invert the effect. Or so I think of it as inversing. It contains the heat outside of the pocket.

The result releases more steam, I slowly expand the pocket to prevent my spoonful of slop. When I notice it begins to bulge I slow it down to prevent any bursting, if the expansion is too quick my slop my pop. That would be weird if anyone noticed.

It is pretty interesting practice as the expansion should not be even, the slop itself is not even. There are thicker chunks that hold more heat and if I push too hard there is a pocket of steam that will form.

If I was just expanding in one direction it would be easier.

Yet, the result works, I eat the spoonful at the right temperature. Best of all I used less mana. It seems like it is easier to just move the heat rather than creating or removing it.

I have no idea what I could do with this skill.

I am just bored right now.

My eyes look down at the bowl of slop, it is almost empty. Without as much left it cools normally enough to be eaten without magic.

While a little let down I finish the bowl. Belly satisfied, my tongue has also been saved from being cooked, it did not get a tasty experience.

Leni looks like she has just started to work on eating her bowl.

I finished well before her, letting a small smirk cross my lips.

Hm… should I get competitive over this. I have been careful about escalating another fight with her.

My face still recalls the pain of being punched, I healed it but I still remember.

I should use this chance to go, I finished and she has not. Time to go!

She notices me stand and leave with the empty bowl. She will not leave without finishing. Right?

Well, first I need to find where to put the bowl. Fortunately beside the woman who dished out the meal there is also a pile of bowls roughly stacked. I can see some remains running down the sides of the bowls giving me the best kind of clue.

My movements are still awkward, I want to act normal but my motives are not.

With a dull clack I place the bowl on top of one pile and drop the spoon into the basket of used spoons nearby.

Safe so far.

Maybe I am overthinking this?

I make for the exit, through the door and into the hallway.

My stomach feels tense, this should be fine right?

I need to reassure myself that it is fine. I should not be worried about it right?

What should I be worried about? Getting jumped and attacked would be to extreme.

While I make my way through the hallway I feel more relaxed. I know where to go to find my room at least, there I can figure out what to do next.

There is a cold breeze that brushes my face, one of the doors leading outside had been opened for a moment, someone came back inside. I remember this side door, it is where I had gone through before to find the toilets.

I now feel the need to use one, it has been a while.

The cold air outside stings against my face as I partially open the door to slide through. It is pretty refreshing compared to the stuffy and moist air inside. I do not mind taking my time walking through the snow.

From what I can tell there is plenty of shrubs and trees that had been trimmed by hand to keep at a set size. Now only the pines still have green on the branches.

My breath comes out as fog reminding me of my recent tests with heat. I breath out a thick cloud and manipulate it a little to swirl it in the air as it rises up. My attempts are a little off from what I wanted.

Maybe something thicker with more open space between the swirls. To achieve that I would need to get better at containing the heat. In the cold air I have a harder time containing it.

I hear the door slide open from behind, in reflex I look over my shoulder.

Uhoh.

She is there.

Her expression is a mix of relief as she tries to look away to say something.

How did she get here so soon?

Did she skip her food and leave it unfinished or rather…

Her breath is giving the answer away, I had been playing around with my own for a bit and it is not so white and thick as hers.

I then notice her move her lips and cheeks as her tongue writhes around, on her face are traces of pain as she tries to contain her flinching.

Oy, you shoved the slop down without letting it cool?

“You have time to… spar?” she asks.

I must not have much of an expression right now, she caught me. There is only one thing in my mind right now.

“Toilet.” I say pointing over my shoulder.

I gotta pee.

Either way I am now stuck with this. I will have to follow through this or else the twisting in my guts will continue to guilt me.

However, I may still come up with something. Having relieved myself I can think a little clearer now.

When I find Leni again she is still in the snowy yard, gripping one of the wooden practice swords as she stretches.

“Okay.” I call out, “We need some rules first.”

Leni looks at me, her eyebrow raised.

“There will be problems if the training gets violent, okay?”

I do not need to be kicked out or something and most of all having a fight get out of hand again is no good.

“That won’t train us for fight.”

I get that, I had some mercenary training where I had been beaten up for a few days. In the end, Arga and Esken knew when to hold their punches. It is different from two amateurs brawling.

“No foul hits, we will get in trouble again.” I declare.

“You were foul first.”

Ah?

Oh yeah, I did throw an elbow.

“Yeah… I am pretty unskilled at fighting.” I feel a little ashamed at that, but I do have a week or two of actual practice.

“It was good. I want better fights.”

“I want to hone my skill.”

“Hn.” She leers at me.

I leer back.

If I am going to go through with this I cannot back down or else she will trample me into the snow again.

“Hn” she puffs through her nose as her eyes look away.

Her mouth flinches as she still battles the scalding pain.

She turns away and begins swinging her wooden sword.

“Warm ups?” I ask.

Leni answers with a nod, her focus hones onto her form as she swings.

I can tell from a look that she is coordinating her body to swing with more than just her arms. Her shoulders, back, and even legs put some extra force behind her swings. The resulting swing makes a sharp noise through the air.

“You have a lot more training than I do.” I comment as I make a few crude swings.

“My family are marines.”

“Marines?” I pause, never hearing of that word before.

“Fighting on seas… is what we do. Money from trade… protect it with the sword.”

Her broken sentences become more noticeable as her breathing quickens.

“So, they are merchants as well, or just guards?”

“Both, merchant marines.”

Huh, that is interesting. They both fight and trade. It is very different from what merchants like Rembra who focus on just trade.

“Then… why are you here?” I ask, pondering why she is so far inland.

There are no seas here. I have never even seen the ocean nor the large ships I hear sail them.

“Land trade…” Her eyes cast down for a moment before she swings a strong overhead slash.

Exhaling her frustration Leni looks over at me and points her sword at me.

“Spar now.”

My face contorts a little, now she is all worked up for a fight.

Her approach causes my reflexes to raise my guard and Leni takes this as an invitation to attack. With a thrust she goes in towards my belly and while stepping back I pivot to the right to avoid it.

With her wrists I see the sword twist into a slash. Her firm two-handed grip guides her wooden sword around my attempt to parry. Slighting pulling back she becomes able to swing down again at my left shoulder.

Again I evade and attempt to parry her attacks.

This continues as I lose track of time focusing on not getting hit. I still do take a few hits, she strikes my legs and arms mostly. I am able to keep my head out of reach.

While heavily breathing, we both stop.

“No attack?” She asks, wiping some sweat from her brow.

“No.” I reply, taking a deep breath before continuing, “I have pretty bad form for attacking.”

Honestly, I had nearly no practice with attacking. The training I mostly received from Arga and Esken was focused on defense. I have seen many ways to attack, none of which I have enough practice to perform as well.

The cold begins to chill me through my wool clothing, enough sweat has accumulated that I cannot keep warm while the fatigue from sparing is no longer providing the warmth needed.

“I need to dry off to warm back up.” I comment.

Leni nods, she rubs her arms. Her wool jacket had been bugging her so she took it off, now her exposed arms must be getting numb by now.

“Tomorrow.” Leni says.

“... Sure.” I am sure she is talking about sparring again.

This may not go anywhere but it could overtime help myself, even if I just dodge that is a skill that will save me in a pinch.

When I make it into the dorm hall I notice the dorm supervisor Glacia talking with two others at a small table. There are only two tables here with stools, in the dorm hall’s main floor I noticed a few spots where hay and furs are placed during the day for students to rest on while discussing things.

Up the stairs I reach my room I share with Baldwin, number eleven. I double check it since I am not completely familiar with the place. It is still daylight out so the hall is brighter than I had seen it before.

The morning sun is late to rise and early to set during the winter and I only came through here during the morning and night. Some narrow openings allow some light and fresh air inside, it does not warm the hall though.

I make sure to bring a bucket with some melted snow upstairs to my room.

Inside the room I am greeted by the strong smell of pine again. I must have grown used to it over night but after leaving for a while my nose is more sensitive to the smell again.

With the bucket and a cloth I wipe myself off to wash the sweat away. It is cold, yet I remind myself that I will be much warmer later on. The problem is drying my clothes, I can probably use some magic to speed it up.

For now I just hand my wool coat and pants near the room’s small fireplace.

Soon enough Baldwin returns to the room with another sack of pine needles. He must be going deeper into the woods to gather these as I do not find pine trees bare of their needles nearby.

As he begins to focus on his work I remember something from this morning.

“I had been told about finding work… is what you do good for that?” I ask, remembering the advice to find some kind of work to supplement my living standards.

“Hnn… making wax paper is very valuable if you are good at it.” He replies.

“How do you do it?”

“Well… most of us crush it after it has dried enough before baking it to separate the wax.”

Baldwin lifts off a large wool cloth covering a small clay oven set on the floor. With a pair of wooden tongs he grabs some hot coals from the room’s small fireplace to place at the oven’s bottom.

“Grind up some with this.”

Baldwin passes me a small clay mortar with a pestle.

He takes one as well and scoops some dried pine needles into the mortar.

We both sit on our beds for a while as the grinding sound of our labour rings through the room. The needles break up pretty easily once dried so, we pour it onto a bronze tray before grinding a little more.

In time we have enough and Baldwin levels out the powder along the tray so it is only deep enough for a fingernail length.

He slides it into the oven where it fits over some small bits of clay that hold the tray’s edges along the oven walls just above the hot coals. He covers the opening with a wood door and then blankets it with wool.

“The trick to getting pine wax is the right heat, the needles burn easily but the right amount of heat will melt the wax from the rest.”

“Are there other ways?”

“Yeah, one way is to crush the dry needles then wash them. The wax floats so it can be separated that way but then we have to dry it again.”

“How do we separate the wax here?”

“Well… once it cools and the wax hardens I crush it and melt it again, each time I melt it the wax separates from the rest.”

I raise an eyebrow and ponder about how much work that sounds like.

“That is the problem with pine needles, I angle the tray so the wax melts onto one side so there is less of the needle left over. However, there are better plants with thicker wax where it is easier to extract.”

“You do not have any of that here?”

“No, it is far to the south, we can sometimes get some traded up here. Like the tablets used in the writing room.”

Ahah, I had noticed there was no smell of pine on those tablet’s wax.

“I’ve had to make due with squeezing a bit of wax from the needles around here. So, I do not make enough for candles or tablets.”

“Paper?” I ask, looking over at the hanging sheets.

Baldwin nods.

“The pine wax is pretty good for making wax paper, it is more durable because of the amount of needle material left inside.”

“So, we do not want the pure wax?”

“No, I have tried the clean waxes from the south they use for candles and tablets and it makes a delicate paper that tears easier. It is kind of my thing here, some masters themselves have even asked for my wax paper.”

“Oh!”

“Yeah.” He says with a bit of bride; however, his eyes look a little sullen, “I guess I got something out of staying here.”

With curiosity I tilt my head a little, before I can ask he replies anyway.

“I never put enough effort into my studies so no one took me in and I had to pay back for my time here. I had made a deal to stay so long as I pay back in materials that were difficult to get.”

He picks up a sheet of his wax paper, it is slightly dark yellow in colour. Similar to the dried and baked colour of the needles.

“I knew just providing wax paper wouldn’t get me much so I tried a few things and the faculty allowed me to stay for a few more years.”

He lets out a sigh.

“Though, now I have to figure out enough improvements or produce enough to fill the demand or they may cut me off.”

“What happens then?” I feel a little glum asking this.

“I do not get to stay in the dorms and receive food rations or use the facilities here. I would have to set up a shack nearby to sell what I make for a living.”

He sarcastically chuckles, “Basically, I have to live on my own and not leech off the monastery.”

“Not that I want to do that anyway, it gets more and more difficult over time to gain that benefit. Unless you get to join the main bunch we all have to make it on our own eventually.”

“Do you have any more time yourself?”

“Hmmm, like I said, I need another breakthrough to be worth keeping around. Paper with good magical properties is what I am aiming for, the staff is pretty eager to get good paper for writing magic spells onto.”

“Just like the ink?”

“Yeah, they have some good magic ink recipes but no good paper ones.”

“None?”

“No good ones, the paper they have is too delicate and brittle. Most pieces tear just from writing and it does not survive the strain of a spell activating.”

“So that’s why.” I reply.

Back in Ferrel I recall how the herbalist Darren had a few spells written into paper that could be activated once. Because of that he never used them, the cost seems very high as the valley is remote and out of the way for most merchants.

“It is one of the jobs we can do here, there are a few scribes here who are experts at writing spells on wood and paper. Many of these are traded for food and materials, we supply most of Condrica’s scribe spells.”

“Would you be able to join them?” I ask.

Baldwin frowns but keeps a simple smirk on his face.

“No. Well, sure, if I am old and connected well enough they will. Buuuuut.” He takes a deep breath, “my spell craft is lacking compared with my scribe craft.”

“I take it you need both?”

“Oh yeah, meticulous skill and artistic talent for writing combined with mastery of at least one spell.”

“Then they produce that one spell?”

Baldwin nods to my response.

“For now, there is more demand for paper. The scribes actually do not have enough magic paper to supply their production. I guess there is a chance to learn later on but there is good profit with my current plan.”

He then slides out a big clay jar, the heavy bottom grates against the wooden floor.

Baldwin opens the wooden lid to scoop some kind of light coloured powder.

“Anyway, aside from wax, this is pith from some sedge which is usually used to make paper… not easy to get any during the winter of course. I stock up some during the summer to use over the winter.”

“Pith?”

“I gather some sedge plants from the river and lake beds, they have a soft core on the inside of the stems that can be eaten. However, it can make parchment, or I add some wax to strengthen the paper.”

With a small scoop, Baldwin pours some of the pith into a flat and square pan. Mixing a very small amount of water by dripping it from his fingers he packs the pith into a thin layer.

“The skill behind this is more about patience and knowing what to look for, I will have to press, dry, moisten, and repeat before it is ready. During this I add in some of the oily wax that we bake out of the pine needles.”

“How long does it take?”

“Weeks.”

“Oh.”

“Yup, which is why I have a bunch hanging at different stages.” He raises his head to showcase the different sheets hanging around the room.

I had a feeling that was the case but never did I know the details about how the sheets were made.

“Well, you can help me out as an assistant and I’ll throw some rations or billets your way whenever I sell a batch.”

“Okay.” I nod.

It seems like a good deal to pass the time.

We begin to set up some more space to press pith into wet sheets to dry. When the wax melts enough we brush a thin layer over before pressing some more.

Eventually the sheets will become thin and the wax will add protection against moisture that would cause the finished sheets from deforming again.

In a few days time, I have my own sheets of wax paper. I find that the paper will dry quickly after being pressed; however, each pressing will make the paper more thin. Tinner paper has a nice feel to it, light and soft.

The cost is that it is not durable, a sharp quill can tear through if I am not careful. I found that it only takes three days to make an acceptable sheet which can be sliced into four pieces for most book spines.

When Baldwin talked about spending weeks on his sheets, he refers to the magical sheets he makes. The specifics on these were left out, I can guess there is another ingredient he uses.

For now as his assistant, I make regular paper for him as a way to pay him back for his teachings and the tools he has. This is not a long term occupation for me, I can see he will likely not share more of his secrets and I am okay with that.

With three weeks passed, I am going to venture out for some more studies.

This is what I resolve myself to do as I pull the wool covers off and rise from my bed.

My morning routine begins with checking the paper sheets I prepared the previous night, the ones ready for sale are piled together in a square shaped basket of reeds. We usually trade them once a week. Mostly for extra supplies and a few billets.

I have some food stocked in my room to eat in the morning before I continue outside the dorm. While I am not as new here as I used to be, the halls are still fairly quiet. The other residents simply continue past me, only Glacia ever greets me.

Today she is still sleeping, part of her duties requires her to make a nightly sweep so, she likes to sleep in and is never up in the morning.

There are very few residents up at this time as well. The reason is simple, it is raining.

Again.

The snow is now almost completely gone, I can find a few patches under the pine trees where the rain cannot reach.

With such a heavy downpour all week the snow cannot hold together. So, it is cold and damp. No one wants to do much in this kind of weather, it was cold in the Calbin winter sleeping in a makeshift shelter of ice.

However, it was also dry up there.

The cold sticks to the moisture of the rain, only my thick wool layers can keep the wet out.

It also sucks for making paper, the drying time is much longer. I had hoped to double my production once I became familiar with the timing, then the rain fell and the paper dries slower.

“Well, I can always practice some magic and dry it.” I say to myself as I stretch my legs.

With a deep groan I push open one of the doors, its joints are even soggy as a tide of rain hammers down against the ground.

The large outside toilets are no longer popular, the small once built into the monastery almost always have a line up now. Even at this time, people are waking up to relieve themselves.

Hastily I run through the torrent of rain, take a piss, and I begin my usual morning run.

Which is done outside, through the woods, in the rain.

I know this is crazy; however, I am now very adept at drying my clothes with magic!

This pride drives me to quicken my pace, the moisture is actually easy on my throat. I had done much running in the freezing winter where the cold and dry air would raw my throat. The feeling would make me almost taste blood from the swelling.

That is not the case here.

Although I am quickly soaked, there is a refreshing feeling as the hard rain washes my sweat away.

Soon I hear another noise, the woods are filled with the sound of rain pattering against the trees with only my soggy steps splashing against the wet ground. Now I hear a distant splashing just behind me.

I continue along until my route returns to the monastery, over my shoulder I look to see behind me. The rain falls so heavy that each drop splashes droplets high enough to cause a light mist.

Through the mist a figure emerges, running along my trail through the mud and dead grass that the snow had covered for months. It is not easy to run in these conditions, I sometimes tell myself that it is better training for my ankles.

With a slight smirk I appreciate my strange outlook, probably from the running high.

“Wh… what funny?” the figure huffs out.

I focus on Leni, the figure tailing me. Just as I am, she is soaked head to muddy boots.

I sigh while still breathing heavy from the run and squint at her before replying, “... Why are you... wearing that?”

“... Huh?” She looks down at herself.

Leni is wearing her full wool coat, a hood, and long skirt with extra layers inside judging from how thick her clothing is.

“Cold... outside.” She replies, I can feel it is cold as well, our breath still clouds from our mouths.

“And… who is… going to dry it?”

She pauses for a moment, looking up at me with a blank expression. Her wet ash brown hair sticks across her face as the rainwater soaks through her hood into her hair.

“... You.”

I frown at her response, I left my heavy clothing behind before going outside. Sure it is colder but it is also less I have to dry off later. Thick Bulim wool is not easy to dry!

I am relieved that she is not pestering me to fight as much, instead she probably understood that there is not much for her to learn from sparring me. We do train together and she arranged her own training to match my own.

This is because I can heal her sore muscles and dry her clothes…

“Can’t let you beat me.” she says after catching her breath.

I had tried a few things to make up for my lack of sword skill but Leni is very sharp when it comes to fighting. Her poor speech hides that intelligence.

We walk together back to the main building, I am not in a hurry to get back, I am as wet as I can get anyway. I do feel that she has her smarts but the loud sloshing sounds of her drenched clothing brings me to question that again.

At the edge of the building we come to an overhanging part of the roof for shelter. Leni takes off her heavy coat with the hood attached and tosses it at me.

“Hoah!”

I react, its weight nearly knocks me over as my knees buckle. The double layers of wool on this coat that reaches the knees with long sleeves holds enough water that I may as well be hauling a bag of stones.

This must by why she didn’t catch up.

I see her happily stretch as the huge weight is now off her shoulders.

Other mages here have used magic to dry out their clothes, it is not a common practice in order to conserve their mana. However, as a way to practice a spell they will set up a collection of wet laundry for a student to draw the water from.

The dorm actually has a schedule for a collective laundry group who are skilled at setting up a magic spell for drawing water. They then take turns drying the group’s laundry in a bulk load and others can send their laundry if they pay.

If I compare their method to my own, I take longer and draw less at a time. They will set up a circle with runes that amplify and control the effect.

For me, I take a piece of wet clothing and slide my hand along it. Each stroke draws off water with a little magic but I need to make a couple of strokes to get all the water.

The thick wool coat Leni tossed me is taking a lot of strokes, each stroke finishes as a great splash of water springs out. Maybe I should figure out the bigger spell the dorm uses to draw it all out at once?

It is intimidating to consider, I felt a lot of mana being used for it while the biggest strain I feel from my stroking method is a sore arm.

Either way, I have no connections with the students or teachers for those spells. They seem to be pretty guarded, there are no open recruitment efforts I have seen.

Well, my next plan is to learn something else.

Baldwin’s paper production let me learn some connections for making potions, something I have some experience around. Potions are probably the secret ingredient for magic paper that Baldwin does not share.

“Time to go.” I say to Leni, having finished drying our clothes.

“Hmmm.”

She is very bored, that is what I have learned over the few weeks with her. Leni is not the only one I have noticed this with, many young students that cannot find regular teachers have to keep themselves occupied.

I do not know what she has taken for education; however, many of the teachers and senior students left for Calbin. The shortage of peers has left more younger students out of things to do.

Before I set out, I return to my room and grab my bag which has four clay jars. Then I go back down the stairs of the dorm again. There is not much of a hurry, the market is not going to be busy yet.

For a market, it is very small. In the main hallway through the three connected buildings there is a room dedicated for supplies and trade. A wide door on the wall allows a loaded bulim to walk in to be unloaded from the nearby barn outside.

The market is messy, with mud and grass spread around from the wet bulims.

In the mornings there are a few people here with food and other supplies from the local area who supply fish, meat, and vegetables everyday. Occasionally a load of grain comes on a bulim, but these do not come during the winter and spring.

Grains would have to come from stockpiles and the monastery stocks up during the autumn season. Vegetables that are delivered from preserved stocks or recently foraged from the woods that are mostly frozen roots.

Either way, at this time of the year there is a shortage of stocked vegetables and grains. Anyone who farms would be planning to plough and seed their fields. Dry meat and fish is mostly what I find here which is a wonderful treat after having grain mush all day.

Most of the activity here now is trade done between those in the monastery, I met a few faces from trading paper.

Over to my left there is a stand with two bins and the attendant Morgana.

“Morning, Kordi.” She says as I approach.

She stands a good head taller than I do, her orange wool dress is mostly covered by a heavy white fur coat. Her dark brown hair is pretty standard for an Ordumirt, her eyes are a rarer green colour though.

The market has a fire going to provide warmths; however, the big doors on the wall do not insulate the room very well. Her chilled and drowsy complexion is shared by most of the others in the room.

I sling my bag down from my shoulder and she leans in to look with curiosity.

“I tried making a few potions with your ingredients.” I reply, the jars clank as I set the bag on her stand.

“Hmm~?”

She slowly opens the bag to peek inside before removing the bark cork plugging one jar.

After leaning in she takes a few sniffs.

Her expression lightens, “Oh~ grincer.”

Morgana dips her finger in and has a taste.

Her eyes open wide.

“Keh!” Her finger is spat out as she coughs.

“Ke! Keh heh!” Her eyes close tight for a moment.

“Okay… I’m awake now.” She composes herself and fans her face with her hand.

“That is a strong pinch paste with grincer herb.”

Her impressed expression looks onto the jar before she continues to say, “The concentration is excellent and there is a lot in this jar. It is a good ingredient as both work well as stimulants.”

Her eyes look to the next jar.

“This one is~?”

Under the next lid she inspects the red paste inside.

“Ah~ Blood leaf paste… boiled just right.” she comments, rubbing some paste between her fingers.

“Next is~!”

Her nose puckers a little when the lid is opened, the slight sound of bubbles rising releases the smell of fermented juice out.

“Pickled Cama root~” she says with delight, pulling one of the roots out.

It is dripping from the vinegar juices with a bluish colour.

“Dyed in Rain Week to improve its effect on mana flow~”

She places the root back into the jar and plugs the lids.

“Now then~” She looks down to me, her expression becomes stern and cold under her gentle smile.

“This is all pretty basic, isn’t it~”

I feel a chill run down my neck like daggers pricking along my nape.

Morgana is someone who practices in potions. While the other potion brewers are more withdrawn, Morgana is very open to talk with others about potions. She had been very friendly when I came by to purchase ingredients, even recommending the Cama root as a cheaper alternative to using the less common rain weed.

“Another one?”

“Poor kid.”

I hear some whispers from the people nearby.

“In some small villages this would be passable for potions, here they are just ingredients.”

She rests her head to the side.

My throat feels heavy, I knew there was more about potions that what Darren had taught me from what Rembra has said. Maybe this was not enough of an impression to persuade Morgana.

She seems to have lost more of her interest as she reaches over in a lazy manner to the last jar. After opening the lid her movement stops and her expression does not change from her slight disappointment.

Morgana dips her finger in to draw out some of the dark green paste inside, an eyebrow raised slightly as she stares at the glossy texture.

Next, her fingers come close to her nose as she sniffs it.

The expression on her face still does not change.

For a moment she hesitates before tasting it.

There is a pause, it feels so long. That batch was a very strange experiment, I had hoped to ask for advice about what to do with it.

The others were my hope to win her over to share some information.

“Petoto Seed Oil…” she says, breaking the silence.

“Pine needle…” her eyes look at her fingers as she continues.

“Cama juice…”

“...” she pauses again.

“My~ How interesting.” Her cold expression breaks as she smiles again, clapping her hands together.

My chest lightens in relief, somehow my experiment left more of an impression than I had thought.

“Solid enough basis for processing ingredients and the creative potential to do more~” she rises from her seat and comes around the stand to my side.

“Would you like to come by and help me in my workshop~?” her expression beams down at me as her head tilts to the side, her fingers weave together.

“... Okay.” I reply in a dazed mood.

“Yeay~” she lightly remarks, standing close beside me to guide me out of the market.

Her posture lowers and her fingers run down my neck.

She whispers to my right ear from behind.

“Maaaybe you will share that secret ingredient with me~?”

I get a serious chill from those words, maybe I should have tried another teacher.

End Notes:

I had to go through and make sure the chapter wasn't scattered all over the place, that can happen when writing small bits over a long period of time.

I have also done more background lore which is not shown here. It is a habit of mine and with the amount I have stocked up it will take years at my current rate to get through it all! >_

Hopefully you guys don't forget too much of what is going on... I do!

At least I have documents detailing characters, flora, locations, etc so, I don't forget who someone is. =P