Meetings and Lessons

Brenda had been expecting the witches’ lair to look a bit more like the sort of thing she’d seen in John’s video games, full of stone walls, torch sconces and maybe a cauldron over a fire. Instead, if she didn’t know the books on the shelves were magical texts and the chemicals stored in the cabinets were derived from fantastical plants, she would have assumed she was at some college laboratory.

‘I suppose that was a bit silly of me,’ she thought as Estelle left them to grab Nephele. ‘Estelle isn’t some stereotypical ‘cackle and wart’ sort of witch, so I don’t know why I defaulted to that sort of idea. She’s more like those ones in the videos John tried to hide.’

She glanced back at John and the girls, the odd tension that had manifested after he and Estelle had gone off alone had abated. And that took a weight off her shoulders. She would hate it if his concern over her lack of power ruined his relationships with them.

Seeing them made her heart clench with guilty desire and she quickly averted her eyes, taking a good hard look at the instruments within an open cupboard, hoping her expression was one of curiosity instead of lust.

“It seems we’re going to get a lot of visits from you.” A voice that had to be this Nephele drew Brenda’s attention to the doorway as the pink-haired witch sauntered in. Instantly, Brenda knew her measure. She was used to being the one in control, not in a malicious way, but in the way so many smart and self-assured people were. The type that took the reins because they had a vision and will to see it done.

“Well, you did insist on basically linking up our homes,” John said. “Though I guess this is a bit more than asking for a cup of sugar.”

Nephele laughed and Brenda found herself smiling at how at ease John was. Just a few weeks back, he wouldn’t have been cracking jokes with someone he’d only met the day before. He might not even after knowing them for a while.

‘If only there wasn’t all the danger,’ she lamented.

“No, you just want a translation potion and a way to grant a mundane person magic,” Nephele retorted, though her voice lacked any bite to her remarks. “Those are a bit more complex.”

“The first is doable, right?” Vivian asked, slipping into business mode.

“Oh, we’ve got all the stuff for it,” Estelle cheerfully reported. “I’m going to get right on it once John and I give Nephele the details on what we came up with for Brenda.”

Brenda found herself straightening up slightly when Nephele turned her eyes towards her. It was a critical gaze, as if sweeping her for any flaw and a bit like how a cat would stare at some bit of prey before pouncing.

“I will say from what I’ve seen in my studies that a solution won’t be something simple,” the witch said. “Nor will it be without possible consequences. We can talk about the possibilities available, but in the end, will you be ready to undertake whatever path we find to be the most in line with all our wants?”

Brenda found herself meeting Nephele’s eyes and unflinchingly said, “I would need to hear just what the ideas are and all they could entail before making any decision.”

Nephele’s eyes continued to bore into Brenda’s and she grinned. “Perfect. Too many people are the leap before looking types. Good to see you’re not going to jump at the first chance at magic. So, let’s hear these ideas.”

Brenda felt her head pound as she tried to absorb all the information John and Estelle had presented. She got the general idea but the specifics Estelle and later Nephele had gone into were a bit much for her uninitiated mind.

“So, just to make sure I understand everything correctly,” Brenda slowly said, “this method would fuse a spirit to me so its ability to generate mana would become mine, correct?”

“That’s the basics of it,” Nephele replied. “Normally, this method would use an elemental but that process is one that would mash your personality with its in an uneven mix. Not only is it clear that level of change wouldn’t be acceptable, but you can’t contract an elemental without mana so it’s a moot point. However, the process could be adapted. Despite what our mutual friends may say on the matter, spirits and elementals do overlap on several points.”

“What we need first is more info on the elemental fusing thing,” Estelle interjected. “Once we get that we can see if we can sub in spirit for elemental.”

“From just the basic information we have, I believe it's possible,” Nephele said. “On a metaphysical level at least. There could be issues regarding the inherent strength of the spirit used. Too weak and it could break down before merging. And an animal one could impart some of its instincts over that would be inconvenient.”

“Wouldn’t want to start getting an urge to chase cars,” Estelle joked, trying to lift the mood. After a slight rebuking stare from Nephele, she added, “Anyway, for our purpose, we’d want as fresh a spirit as possible to limit any excess psychic contamination.”

“That’s where I’d come in,” John chimed in. “Or Mason and Cammie could find one. But a fresh spirit with minimum interaction from anyone. There’ll still be some, since we’ll have to ‘leash’ it, but that’s the best we can do.”

“That should be within safe exposure,” Nephele said. “The weight of a human’s full psyche will overpower whatever lingers from handling. But that’s all stuff we’d make sure is on the up once we reach the point of being able to do this.”

Brenda nodded. She knew that this early in their planning, everything was based on hope and untested theory. In a way, this was like being one of the first patients of some experimental medical treatment. Where she knew what they hoped to achieve but did not know if the process was going to be effective.

“I do have one request,” Brenda said softly. “I don’t know much about magic, and I know there’s no way to learn everything in the time it takes to prepare this, but I’d like to learn as much as I can before we do this.”

Nephele smiled at Brenda like a cat satisfied with a hunt. “That won’t be a problem. In fact, given that we don’t know for sure what sort of magic you’ll gain from this endeavor, it would be best for you to gain a good foundation.”

“Oh, I can help with that,” Estelle offered. “At least until we get all the material to start developing our process.”

“Speaking of development,” Nephele said, turning her attention to Vivian. She, along with the rest of the girls, had remained quiet while they had laid everything out, but had been the only one Brenda could tell had been really following along. “Your area of expertise is spell arrays, correct?”

“Um, yes, I’ve studied them,” Vivian answered, flustered by the sudden inclusion.

“I believe there could be avenues where those could be useful to this project,” Nephele cooly said. “And if nothing else, having another pair of eyes with a degree of learning in arcane theory isn’t the worst thing to have.”

“Well, um, I’m not exactly ‘properly’ trained,” Vivian hemmed. “Mostly just stuff I was able to figure out from books.”

“All the more impressive,” Nephele complimented. “We aren’t some elitist outfit that will only work with people with the right paper claiming they know something.”

“I mean, I can help if it makes things easier,” Vivian said, smiling at Brenda. “More eyes means less can go wrong. And I can’t say I wouldn’t mind learning some new things and helping you get the basics down, Brenda.”

“Ohh, this is going to be so much fun,” Estelle cheered, clapping her hands together.

Brenda found Estelle’s enthusiasm infectious and smiled widely. The nebulous tension faded away, no longer was the room feeling like a doctor's office after bad news. Even if this attempt to gain magic failed, she would at least learn more about the magical world her son now lived in and about the people who were walking it with him.

The clang of steel rang out through the air as several of Rowan’s fellows went about training. Most were neophytes like her, still squires learning the ropes from more experienced knights. Demanding teachers but ones that had the best interests of their pupils in mind as they drilled them.

And Rowan’s missteps on the mission with the Warden meant she now had the most demanding one. Her arms burned as she parried what had to have been the hundredth time in the past hour. Adding to her discomfort was a raw throat and throbbing headache from reciting nearly every provision of the Order’s code. From chain of command, to unit tactics, to what to do when entering possible hostile territory, nothing was overlooked.

‘Not like I don’t deserve this,’ Rowan thought bitterly as she gripped her sword tightly in an attempt to ignore the ache in her limbs. ‘This is my tempering. I wasn’t ready before and it could have killed me or Newman. If I can’t endure this, don’t know the code back to front, then I don’t deserve to be with the Order. There is no good in armor that’s too weak.’

Bracing herself for a renewal of drilling, she locked eyes with her trainer. Sofia Ramirez, knight of the Order, stood opposite her, seemingly unfazed by the efforts of their exercise, her tan skin only just beginning to glisten with sweat. She lazily held her sword in one hand, the other running through her short hair, brushing the lone streak of silvery white out of her eyes and back into place among its dark brown brethren. The senior knight wore the same training outfit as she did, a heavy coat of padded material worn under a chainmail hauberk, though she wore it as comfortably as a light jacket.

Without warning, as was Ramirez’s way of doing things, the knight sprang forward, closing the distance between them in a flash, her sword swinging down at Rowan. Rather than attempt to block or deflect the strike, Rowan retreated, forcing her tired and weighed-down body back several steps.

Ramirez’s sword passed through the space she had vacated but the seasoned knight didn’t allow her trainee a chance to counter and swiftly brought her blade back up in an upward swing, one that, if it hit true, would cut its target from hip to shoulder.

Rowan brought her blade up to block, narrowly managing to bring her weapon to bare in time to intercept Ramirez’s. Unfortunately, the odd angle she had her sword at left her unable to block Ramirez’s follow up and the training blade hit Rowan’s shoulder with a dull and stinging thwap.

Rowan held back a grunt of pain as her shoulder throbbed and an uncomfortable tingling ran down her arm. It hurt, but no worse than the other blows she’d taken since being assigned to Ramirez. That was the way the knight trained her. Rigorous exercise, spars that lasted until she could barely lift her sword, and recitation of the Order’s code. Which meant Ramirez would now ask her to recite some passage.

‘Just have to hope it’s not one I’m still spotty on,’ she thought as she **** herself to stand at attention. ‘Really don’t fancy having to do another five K after this.’

As Rowan waited for the question to come, Ramirez regarded her with piercing eyes. That was perhaps the most striking feature of the knight, her electric blue eyes. They always gave the impression of being intensely critical of everything, but for the last few days, Rowan had been the subject of her gaze. And the knight hadn’t been restrained in pointing out her flaws.

Each had stung, but she took them without complaint. She had no right to.

“Alright, that’s enough for the day,” Ramirez barked. “Rest up. We’ve got a mission tomorrow.”

That hadn’t been remotely close to what Rowan had expected and her surprise must have shown on her face because Ramirez added, “Don’t think you’re off the hook for your screw-ups. This is a mission that will go more smoothly with you in tow, so there’s no way around it.”

“What does this mission entail, ma’am?” Rowan asked. There was only one circumstance she could think of where her presence would be beneficial at this point in time. But surely the Lord Protector wouldn’t put her back in for that.

“You and I are to represent the Order as we undertake an excursion through one of John Newman’s barriers,” Ramirez stated. “The Lord Protector believes it would be best for relations between the Order and Pruzonia if you were a part of this, given prior experience.”

Rowan almost spoke out with an assertion that the Warden would have been a more appropriate fit, but managed to hold her tongue. Of course, such options had to have been considered, and the Warden surely had more important tasks to attend to. Rowan listened as Ramirez gave her the rundown of what the particulars and their objectives were.

“We are to engage in whatever contests Newman’s powers put against us, but we are not to show off,” Ramirez said firmly. “We are not to make it look like we’re purposefully failing, but our larger objective tomorrow is to promote cooperation with Pruzonia. Pull back when you can and when doing so won’t make it obvious.”

“Understood, ma’am,” Rowan resolutely said. It was an odd thing to be asked to not put her whole effort into serving the Order, but she could see the line of reasoning. The Order really didn’t need anything from this ‘Quest’, not as much as these goblins apparently did.

‘I imagine if we do somehow win, we’ll give up the prize as a show of good faith,’ Rowan thought.

“We are departing at 0700 tomorrow. I expect you here at 0630. Dismissed!” Ramirez barked before turning on her heel, leaving Rowan to start the ritual of ensuring their sparring area was put in order.

Sofia Ramirez steadily marched towards her personal chamber in the barracks around Brighton Manor. As a knight with high standing, she could live anywhere in Springfield, but she found comfort in being able to quickly respond to a call to arms. And if anyone wanted to strike at her, they would have to do so against the full bulwark of the Order.

As she went, nodding at those who stopped to salute her, her mind wandered, working over the strategy for tomorrow. Or as much as she could, given the scant details known.

‘I am not a fan of these unpredictable missions,’ she thought. ‘And from the Warden’s account of a normal barrier from this Newman, I can only assume things tomorrow may be far more chaotic.’

With no particulars about what was going to transpire or concrete goals beyond fostering good relations with the newly emerged Kingdom, she could only consider her and Donnelly’s skills in a general sense. Thinking of her newest charge, she sighed.

Her arguments against sending her back into the field with only a few days worth of her training weren’t enough to sway the Lord Protector and she couldn’t fault his logic no matter how hard she disagreed with it. A friendly familiar face would go a long way in cementing good ties and showing that they weren’t overly penalizing Donnelly for her missteps would make them seem less dogmatic and intimidating.

With no recourse, all she could do was keep a close eye on her pupil and remind her how to conduct herself. Hoping that her lessons had stuck wasn’t enough and Sofia didn’t put much stock in things she couldn’t directly affect anyway.

Her musings came to an end as she reached the door to her room. Without preamble, she opened it and strode inside the spartan chamber. The only piece of personalization was a photo on her nightstand, slightly faded by time, depicting a younger, smiling Sofia standing next to a pale young man and holding an infant wrapped in a pink blanket.

Sofia paused as her eyes fell on the photo, her heart clenching as it always did upon seeing the distant past. Allowing herself a moment, she longingly stared at the photo, before closing her eyes. She took a deep breath and began to stow her gear. She had to rest for tomorrow. Even if the mission was one the Lord Protector and the Warden considered one with low risk, she wasn’t going to treat it with any less seriousness than a mission to the heart of an enemy’s territory.

She wouldn’t be the cause of another disaster.

Thanks again for reading this little story. If you liked the chapter, please hit that thumbs up, and if you want to support my writing, check out my Patreon at https://www.patreon.com/ScrapCrow. Get access to my chapters before they’re published here and join my private Discord.