Chapter 35: Chapter 29: A New Java-fiend is born into the World of Magic

 

Come to think of it, I had never caught the name of the customer who had come to us for a potion. Mary said it was bad form to do so. Often, she said, customers would come in for cures and potions for “sensitive” matters, such as for love, impotence, or other such things. So avoiding asking names from customers was part of a way of maintaining trust with the clientele.

 

It’s really rather similar to the laws in place in the mundane world protecting patient privacy rights. It’d be downright illegal for doctors to share personal information about patients, and people have the right to privacy when it comes to medical matters. While my background in microbiology was more focused on research rather than clinical work, even someone like me picked up a bit on the whole medical ethics side of things.

 

So I never really thought it odd that I never really picked up her name, and if anything I had assumed I wouldn’t have stuck out much in her mind. She must have been focused on other things at the time, seeing as she was there buying a glamour potion. While Mary sold love potions on occasion, she much preferred potions that boosted the customer’s attractiveness rather that an outright “love” potion.

 

Rather than outright binding the customer’s target to their will by purposefully messing with their sense of affection, it was, in Mary’s mind, much better to sell a potion that boosts the attractiveness of the customer. If there was a spark already there in the targets mind, then the glamour potion would merely help to fan it into a relationship. It’s a much more natural approach that leads to a stronger bond overall.

 

Love potions, on the other hand, would be the equivalent of dousing everything in gasoline and setting of a WP grenade. Thing’s are probably going to go up in a very spectacular manner, that will catch the attention of everyone around it. And just like a WP grenade, the legality of it can be questionable and in many cases someone might die.

 

Explosive magic may be destructive in its own right but the amount of damage that can be done by unrestricted obsessive affection can be on a whole other level. Beyond regular love, it can be a force that can endanger the lives of many and cause all sorts of …

 

“M-miss apprentice?”

 

Oh, right, I came here for a reason…

 

“You’re…”

 

“I believe we met the other day at the Madness Witch’s house, Miss Apprentice.”

 

“Right, I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to bring it up, since you were buying… How’d that go anyways, if you don’t mind me asking?” Since she brought it up, it must be okay to talk about. So much for discretion.

 

“Great! I have another date with him planned for tomorrow night. I really can’t thank your master enough, the potion worked like a charm.” She seemed rather animated, like her joy was enough to power through any awkwardness on my end. So she’s one of those extroverts people always talk about...makes sense considering she’s a businesswoman on the rise.

 

“Glad to hear it,” I responded. It’s really all I could say.

 

“Oh, how rude of me. I just remembered I never actually introduced myself to you. I’m Eva, the proprietor here at Eva’s glass-works. Why don’t you take a seat?” She gestured towards a stool by the counter. I took a seat, as she went in the back room before shortly emerging with a teapot and two mugs. After pouring tea for the both of us, she spoke.

 

“So, Miss Apprentice, what brings you here today?” She asked.

 

“Please, call me Rose. I want to have something made,” I reached into my pouch, grabbing the schematics I sketched the other day. “The cone shape at the top is important, and this flange doo-hicky right here is important for pouring...well, you’re more of an expert on this than me of course. But I want it pretty close to the dimensions in the schematics. I did manage to draw it life-sized so you can just go off that.”

 

The glass-worker, glass-smith? Whatever you call someone who works with glass, drew closer, forehead wrinkling as she pondered the schematics I had unrolled on the counter. She thought for a moment, before finally speaking.

 

“It’s simple, and wouldn’t take too long to make, but what exactly is it for?

 

“Brewing coffee. It’s… actually, that drink I gave you when you came to the cottage.”

 

“That stuff?! It’s called coffee? Where did you get it? I’ve been going aaaaallll over town for the past week asking about it! I’ve never had anything like it, and no one’s been able to sell me any! I didn’t even know what to ask for! People assumed it was some evil potion after I said I got it from the Madness witch’s place, but that stuff was too amazing to possibly be evi….” she paused, visibly struggling to regain her bearing. “Sorry. So, you say it’s for brewing… Coffee?”

 

“...yes.” I get the feeling I’ve created a monster.

You are reading story In the House of a Witch at novel35.com

 

“And where do you buy this...coffee?”

 

“I found the beans from a captain at the docks. It takes some prep work in order to actually get it to the point you can drink it however.”

 

“Oh...”

 

“Like, first you need to roast the raw beans, and trust me it’s a very finicky process. Then it needs to be ground. This glassware piece I’m asking you to make is for the final step, where you pour hot water over the grounds to actually make the drink. You fold filter paper into a cone, which goes in this part of the glassware, right here.” I gestured to the schematics to help illustrate. The glass worker, Eva, was watching my every move with an intense, hungry gaze.

 

“This isn’t really how I remember making it at the cottage.”

 

“This way, with the filter paper, cuts out some of the bitterness.”

 

“Okay… I’ll make this for you. But…”

 

“But?”

 

“Give me some coffee! That’s my payment! And you have to teach me how to brew it!”

 

I guess entrepreneurs and coffee are a match that’s just made to be.

 

---

 

Walking back from town has me a bit on edge. Look at it from my perspective; I have yet to have any trip to town be uneventful in this world. The first time there was both a weird deity and a bandit attack. The second time I didn’t even get to walk back, and was forced to flee the city on a broom, with a stalkerish half-elf clinging to my waist.

 

You know the saying “once burned, twice shy.” I would say everything I’ve been through has been a bit more than a simple burn, even if there’s been a minimal amount of physical harm done to me. It’s safe to say I’m pretty keyed up. Which is how I noticed the jackalope.

 

Mary did say they’re edible, after all. It’d be nice to contribute at least a bit to the household. I’ve been doing the learning part of being an apprentice, but outside of helping with making beer and gunpowder I still feel a bit inadequate when it comes to helping around the house. Mary does all the cooking, and even brought home a metric fuck-ton of bear meat a few weeks ago. The least I can do is bring home some fresh meat after spending the day sorting out my own projects.

 

` I slowly creeped forward towards the rabbit, taking care not to step on any of the twigs scattered about the forest floor. While I moved I focused inward, willing the innate energy within me to mask my presence from the animal. Finally, I crouched down behind a tree less than a stones throw from the antlered bunny. Then, reality kicked in.

 

What the fuck am I going to kill the jackalope with?

 

Lets see. I have a sword. That could work. If I got close enough. It’s probably not impossible, but it’s really not likely. The heels on my shoes aren’t exactly ideal for running. Even sneaking up this close to the rabbit is kind of impressive. Go me. I also have another pouch of mercury fulminate that Mary insisted I bring, “for self-defense.” While the Monty Python fan in me kind of wants to give it a try, blowing the rabbit to smithereens would be counterproductive.

 

Can I use magic? Probably, but that leads to the same issues as the mercury fulminate. With my limited magical repertoire, I’d end up ruining the meat. What to do… as I glanced down, I saw a rock. I feel stupid.

 

Picking up the stone, I focused on the rabbit. Taking aim, I wound up my arm, and let the rock fly...Hit!

 

As sad as things are for the rabbit, I feel rather pleased with myself. It looks like rabbit stew is on the menu for tonight!