Chapter 237: A Spot of Tea

The cafe, like much of Dawnstead, is made of white marble. It has a domed, red roof, an open arch doorway with two columns built into its sides, and the outer walls are patterned by religious artwork of Lux Ultima bestowing love to her devout worshippers. Seeing this sort of thing is never not going to be weird for me, I think...

I’m worried about how expensive this place will be, but I hold it in now that I know Opalina insists on spoiling me during our trip. Some battles just aren’t worth fighting.

Opalina and I enter the cafe, and she’s greeted as a regular by a cute Elven waitress wearing a pretty black dress and white apron. In no time at all, we’re seated at a little table next to a stained glass window where the afternoon light casually pours in, making the seats warm and comforting. Tea is served, light chatter is had between the witch and the waitress until finally she bows and leaves us to our important discussion.

After taking my first sip, I tell my older lover in no uncertain terms, “I hope you know that flying has been forever ruined for me, now.”

The old woman can barely hold back a teasing smile as she drops a sugar cube into her cup, stirring gently with her silvery spoon. “A shame. You weren’t half bad at it, for a beginner. Not that you could fly without someone to pump mana into the broom, but still.”

“Pity,” I roll my eyes. “Are you going to tell me what in the hells was going on back there yet?”

“You’re going to have to be much, much more specific, Dear.”

“You could start with whatever that last spell of yours did.”

Opalina brings the cup to her lip, pauses, and basks in its sweet, fragrant smell. She takes a small sip and responds, “I infected him with a disease of my own making.” The witch says casually.

“Do this sort of thing often, do you?”

“Not so much these days,” She laughs, but her eyes lose their warmth. “My intent was to drastically cripple the Sage for several months, giving you ample time to capture him, but we were so far away by the time the spell hit that I’m afraid it lost a deal of power. Not only that but, whatever’s going on in that man’s body is beyond my current comprehension. The Sage clearly has a unique immune system thanks to his constant drug use, which makes me worried that my spell won’t be as effective.”

“That wasn’t the only unique thing about him. I’ve never heard of a Mage who fights quite like that... I wonder if the Association even has that style formally classed or not, or if it’s something he made up himself?”

“I believe the term they go by is ‘Multicaster’. These sorts of Mages don’t rely on big, flashy spells, but rather they cast so many non-verbal spells with their hands that their lack of firepower is more than made up for with their sheer quantity and speed. Of course, this style of magical combat has a very obvious drawback...”

“It has to drain his mana absurdly fast, right?”

“Yes, precisely.” She giggles and tips her teacup at me. “Multicasters tend to have large mana pools in general, yet... the rate at which he cast spells was almost unbelievable. That trick with the extra arms? Ingenious, in a way.”

“And he was constantly summoning mana crystals to top off his reserves...”

“I can’t imagine how his mana circuits haven’t been fried thousands of times over,” Opalina shakes her head, sighing from disbelief. “Mana crystals are diluted into potions for a damn good reason.”

“Speaking of mana circuits, Zutiria wants to talk to you about hers. She thinks you aren’t telling the truth when you said you can’t help her.”

The witch was in the process of moving her cup to her mouth once more, but she stops halfway to consider things. Eventually, she sets the glass cup back onto the plate and folds her arms. “There are indeed several treatments- none of them are worth the risk. Her mana circuit atrophy will cure itself over many years as long as she’s continually expending mana every day, opening the closed circuits bit by bit. Accelerating this process is possible, yes, but foolhardy.”

“Can you tell me why?”

“You have a choice between two options, Dear. I would either have to quite literally invade Zutiria’s body and forcibly pump my own mana into her circuits, or she would have to continually force her body to produce extra mana on its own through repeated mana potions use well past the recommended daily dosage. In the former scenario, she could literally explode or end up brain-dead, and in the latter scenario, she’d become a drug addict.”

My chest becomes heavy as lead when I imagine both possibilities. Zutiria having access to all of her mana isn’t worth that sort of risk.

“Is there really no other option?”

“Not with my resources,” She sighs once more while looking away. “I’ll have a talk with her when we’re home before she goes and gets any more silly ideas in that head of hers.”

“Thank you, I think that would be good for her. She’s beating herself up over the battle with Pimpington, and-”

“Why don’t you tell me everything that went down, Dear? There hasn’t been time to go over the specifics.” She asks with a gentle smile.

Accepting her inquiry, I run down the entirety of the Pimpfort’s events one by one. Opalina listens calmly and quietly as I tell her about the rooms, the traps, my decisions, the battles, and ultimately the confrontation with Pimpington himself. Once I’m finally done, she merely laughs a single time and says, “I stand by what I said before. I’m proud of you.”

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“Thank you, I’m just worried about a lot of things...”

“Samantha?”

“Her, plus the increased aggression that the Duke of Dewhurst is going to have in response to my capturing of one of his most important pieces.”

“I’m sure it won’t be anything you can’t handle. We’re going to increase the Guild’s defenses, and on top of Nikita, you’ve got Snow and the kittens to protect the homefront. Peri and Cherry might not have combat experience, but as Beastfolk, they’re still a good deal stronger than average humans. As far as Her Highness goes, we’ve already discussed this. She needs to speak with someone in her family about the Royal Blood, someone who can actually help her.”

“I know, I know...” I hold my forehead in my hand and lean into it. “Things will work out, and we won’t squander the momentum we’ve gained. We have to keep going on the assault.”

“All in due time, my sweet, precious little man.” She giggles warmly as she finishes her tea and hails the waitress to pour her more.

Something comes to mind that I’d forgotten. “Oh, speaking of Sam, I forgot to have you magically appraise her new sword before we left...”

Opalina looks to the side and makes a strange expression before sidestepping this topic. “Oh, I’m sure there’s no rush on that, Dear. But, more importantly, tell me what else has happened during my trip. I’d love to be caught up to speed.”

For the next few minutes, the conversation takes on a lighter tone as I catch Opalina up on everything else she’s missed. I tell her about Zutiria’s recent purchase of the Eronomicon, to which the witch is somewhat floored over. There’s a nefarious interest in the subject obvious in her flickering purple eyes. I’m very torn, and I feel that should Opalina ever get her hands on that book, then my days in this mortal Realm would be numbered. I can’t decide whether the thought excites or terrifies me more.

When I tell her about the hunchback Zutiria purchased it from, Opalina surprises me because she actually knows who I’m talking about. The old witch says she’s visited the castle of Igor’s master back when he was alive to do business with him on a few occasions. Apparently, that Mage was just as much of an asshole as Igor has led us to believe. Opalina confirms what I already expected. She can’t undo the curse, as that’s just not the sort of magic she knows.

While I’ve read a few books on the matter, Opalina clarifies it once again for me. Casting curses is ‘black’ magic, and curing them is ‘white’ magic. The difference between the two is well-defined but straightforward. Black Mages like Zutiria and Opal use magic selfishly, for lack of a better word. They change reality and enforce their wills on a whim, whereas White Mages are motivated through helping others and use their magic to benefit those around them.

This simple personality divide actually changes the nature of one’s mana, making it hard for the different classes to learn the opposite styles of magic. I suppose this is also where the stereotype of Mages being unhelpful and self-absorbed comes from, as it’s rooted in a degree of fact. Black Mages are notoriously difficult to motivate them to do anything apart from their own studies and interests, explaining why Zutiria never bothered learning any cleaning spells.

Incidentally, this is also why Opalina developed her own unique style of entirely original healing magic. She changes reality by going inside her patient’s body with her spells and mending the problems through adding hormones, magically stitching wounds, reshaping bones, and so on. It’s fueled by her own scientific knowledge of anatomy. By comparison, White Mages heal by pointing a staff at their target and casting a simple healing spell, and that tends to be that.

While not impossible to break curses, hexes, and jinxes as a Black Mage, it’d be time-consuming and expensive. First, many tests would have to be done to figure out the nature of the curse, and then we’d have to gather or buy all the alchemical ingredients for whatever potion is necessary. Even though Opalina is sympathetic and interested in helping Igor, she verifies that it’d be easier to just wait and see if our upcoming healer is a White Mage or not. My wallet agrees.

After we’ve had our fill of talking about the kittens, Snow, and everything else Opalina has missed out on, the conversation briefly circles back to the battle we just went through. “Even if you were holding back, you were much stronger than I could’ve imagined, you know. It was scary, but I was impressed.”

“I didn’t want you to ever have to see me like that, but ah, well...” The witch sigh and slumps backward in her seat, the light from the stained glass window pouring onto her face and illuminating her glasses. “Using so much magic was risky of me, but it’s not like I had any choice.”

“Why is it risky?”

“Mages have unique magical signatures to their magic. For instance, if Zutiria and I were to cast the same spell, it might look or ‘feel’ different.”

“Yes. Your aura when casting some of your spells was...”

She frowns. “You don’t need to clarify. I understand. The point is, certain Mages are very skilled at searching for unique magical signatures. There are precautions one can take to keep scrying eyes off, but say if a witch were ambushed mid-flight, she wouldn’t have time to take them.”

“And you’re saying you don’t want to be found by one of these Mages.”

“Technically, I’m not saying anything. Any implications you draw are your own.”

“The implication is that you’re some sort of criminal who people are looking for,” I say, leaning over the table with curiosity. Staring at my lover’s face reveals an aloof expression that only vaguely considers my words. “Opalina... who really are you?”

The witch tilts her head, looking up and away. It takes her a moment to get there, but she returns my question with an evasive smile and tells me, “Ask me again sometime later, and I might tell you a bit about me that very few people know about. For now, just remember that I’m someone who loves you very much.”

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