Chapter 17: Chapter 14: I believe you

“So where’s the snow spirit? I’ve been waiting for it to show up.”

Al taunted as I picked him up from the snow. Heather and her friends were wearing away at my patience with how long they stayed out there. 

“Shut up.”

“Haha. Seriously though, you might as well have said it’s how you summon Santa.”

“I said that because it’s a non-existent tradition from a town she knows nothing about, so she won’t question it.”

“That is, if she believes you.”

“Yeah.” 

She did seem skeptical of what I said though.

Now that I actually think about it, the on-the-spot lie I spouted was probably pretty obvious.

“Well, she didn’t look like she was going to confront me over it out there, so we can hold it off for now.”

“You could just tell her the truth, you know.”

“Yeah but… even if she believes me, it’ll get weird if she tells her friends.”

She doesn’t seem to be the type to keep secrets, given how open she is.

“She didn’t talk about your snow spirit thing though.”

“There is that….”

I don’t know anymore. 

“Anyways, how did your magic come along?”

“Didn’t work. Either I can’t do it or I need practice.”

“Dang.”

“It was a good idea though. Besides, it’s winter soon, so we’ll have plenty of chances to try.”

“Yeah.”

I said as I closed the door to my room behind me.

Time to dry and polish him.

Come to think of it, I’ve never opened this tin of polish that they gave me, huh.

Al just never looked like he needed it. Maybe it’s something to do with the sword housing a soul?

I thought back to the rust eaters.

Let’s wipe him off just in case.

Oh right I’m probably going to make something for Heather today.

Hope she doesn’t try to dig any further.

 

Heather came out of her room this time with a scarf. 

“Let’s go!”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, right, can we stop somewhere before we go shopping?”

“Sure, but where?”

“Just this café I saw the other day.”

“A what?”

“Wait, you’ve never heard of one?”

“Towns in the middle of nowhere don’t enjoy many luxuries.”

Well, I don’t know about it being a luxury but given how it doesn’t sound English, it’s at least above my pay grade.

“Ah…” 

“Well, just give me the rundown as we go.”

“Okay! It’s my treat!”

“Thanks.” 

 

“We’re here!”

Heather said as I looked up at the oak wood building before us.

There were two wooden tables set outside along with a few benches, both of which were covered in snow. 

From what Heather told me, a cafae is just a fancy word for tea shop.

Ah wait, the sign out there said “café”, not cafae.

Once inside I was immediately hit with a sweet and fancy aroma nothing like what I expected. 

The interior was well lit with simple decorations unlike the smell that persisted.

There were already quite a few customers, all of whom looked at least a decade or so older than us and definitely better dressed than me.

“Table for two please.”

“Right away.”

A man in an apron guided us to a table.

I’ve only read that this was how restaurants worked but I guess that also extends to cafés, or any store that requires tables and a menu.

Now then, the menu…

…

…….

Heather did say it was her treat and all, but…. these are really expensive.

Just tea costs five pennies, more than how much I’d earn in a day if I was still at the bakery.

And there’s also this “hot chocolate” thing they have at two shillings…. Who’d be dumb enough to spend that much money on a dr-

“I think I’ll go with a cup of hot chocolate, how about you?”

Of course.

I guess I just don’t get rich people.

Well, it’s her money.

“I’ll just have a cup of fruit tea.”

“Sure!”

I didn’t want her to think that I picked the cheapest one to be considerate, so I went with one that costs only one penny more.

We gave our order to the server and waited.

“Why the hot chocolate?”

“It’s been a long time since I had one.”

“You have it often then?”

“Back before I moved here. Used to love it during winters.”

“You drink liquid gold during winter?”

“Hehe, no. Gold isn’t sweet, dummy.”

“But it’s two whole shillings.”

“That’s because the ingredients were shipped here from down South.”

“I see.”

If it’s shipped all the way here, then it makes sense why it’s so expensive.

“Hope it’s worth it then.”

“For sure, want to have a sip once it’s here?”

“Sure.”

Not everyday I can taste something more expensive than Al.

The server soon arrived with our beverages. Heather got a mug of some dark brown liquid while I was given a glass teapot with two cups. The contents of the pot was light orange, with a slice of lemon floating in the pot.

“Don’t think I can finish this myself.”

I guess it would make a bit more sense why they’re so expensive. I’m guessing they’re meant to be shared within a group.

“Want me to help?”

“If you don’t mind. It’s your money.”

“Just let me finish this mug.”

“Okay.”

I poured myself a cup and gave it a few blows to cool it down before taking a drink,

…

That’s actually pretty good. At least, a lot better than anything I’ve drank. A lot more flavourful, to say the least.

I took another sip and looked over at Heather, who looked like she was melting in heaven.

“Ahhhhhh…. Right to the gut.”

“It’s that good?”

“Hell yeah, here.”

She put down her mug and nudged it over to me.

She’s already finished one third of the cup.

“Thank you.”

I gave it a taste.

…It’s a unique flavour that’s for sure.

Is it good? Yes.

Would I ever pay two shillings for it?

No. 

I handed it back to her.

“What did you think?”

“It’s great. But I’ll stick to my tea.”

Maybe for her, there’s some nostalgia attached to it, or maybe it’s just a different palette, or perhaps she just values money less. 

Either way, she clearly enjoys it a lot better than me, so it’s better in her hands than mine.

“More for me then.”

And so she went back to utopia.

It’s like she’s in her own world.

In a way, she always was. Our backgrounds and wealth status aside, she’s always surrounded by a bubble of people while my bubble usually just has one person, her or Al. 

And yet she takes me to a place of the upper class. 

Why? Maybe she’s just like this with everyone, maybe she just wants to entertain a loner, or maybe it’s just another one of those show off moments for her. Who knows. I can come up with theories all I want but at the end of the day, why should that matter?

No matter the reason, we’re here now and I thank her for it. That’s all there is to it.

And hey, this tea is delicious, so I can’t complain. 

“Ah… now I want another one.”

“We still need to finish this tea.”

“Oh yeah.”

She downed that one really quick, huh.

As she poured the tea, she asked.

“You were lying about the snow spirit thing, weren’t you?”

So it came up. 

I looked her in the eye to see her staring back. 

Well, looks like we’re crossing that bridge.

Should I just tell her the truth? 

The thought of that led me to all kinds of possibilities. If she believes me, I don’t have to hide my conversations with Al anymore. Maybe she might even know a thing or two, given how much she knows about magic.

But what if she doesn’t? She could assume it’s another lie, or laugh at such an absurd story, or deem me crazy and shun me.

That doesn’t sound in character for her though….

“Yeah.” 

There’s no use in denying it, given how obvious a lie it was.

Her eyes widened, surprised at how straightforward I was.

“So then what were you doing with your sword?”

“That’s… well….”

“Just tell her!” 

I can imagine Al screaming at me. 

Do I even want to?

Even if she believes me, she could feel uncomfortable that someone’s been eavesdropping on us the whole time.

Or she might let her tongue slip and get others involved. While she might believe me, they might not be so trusting.

“Hah… Just forget it.”

She sighed, seeing my discomfort.

“Sorry for putting you on the spot like that. If it’s something you don’t want to answer then I won’t force you.”

“It’s not that… but… I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for? What you did was strange, sure, but everyone has things they’d rather not share. I should be apologizing for cornering you.”

She took a sip of her cup of tea.

“Mm! Yeah this is really good too!”

“And it doesn't cost two whole shillings a cup.”

“Hey, it’s money well spent!”

“Well, you do you.”

I finished my cup and got a refill.

It’s not that I don’t want to tell her. 

I really want to get this burden off my chest, to not have to tell a friend to shut up just because someone else is around. 

And I’m really bad at covering my tracks for that matter, given how she’s asking me about it, so it would just make everything easier if I spill the beans.

I say all that but in the end I never act upon it.

“Coward!” 

The imaginary Al shouted at me. 

He’s right though. While I wouldn’t call myself a coward for doing so, I’m scared of what could happen in the various possibilities. 

Hah…. 

At least the topic was dropped for now.

 

Still, at the end of the day, what do I do?

I thought as I grabbed some eggs.

Ever since I left the café, I’ve been running circles in my head thinking about it. 

The risk honestly isn’t that high. She’s a good person, I know that much. 

And yet I can’t seem to trust her on this.

Maybe given more time, that would change, but I don’t think it will.

And I really don’t like keeping people waiting...

I could ask Al about this but he’ll tell me it’s my decision or to just do it…

“I don’t think we need that many strawberries.”

“Ah.”

I caught myself stacking at least four boxes of strawberries on top of each other.

“Oops.” 

“You also took too many eggs.”

“Oh.”

“Something on your mind?”

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“Wanna take a guess?”

“Your secret.”

“Bingo.”

“Sorry for bringing it up.”

“No… It’s…”

“It’s…?”

“...probably something I’d have to tell you eventually.”

“Just not now, I’m assuming.”

“That’s what I’m pondering.”

“Well, just don’t go thinking too hard. I don’t mind you not telling me at all if you don’t want to.”

“Sure.”

Let’s just focus on the task at hand for now then.

It would be bad if I start making mistakes while baking.

 

Heather’s POV:

“Alright, I’ve set the hourglass.”

“Can’t wait.”

Abigail finally said and took a seat at our table, eyes wandering off. Now that she’s done her work, she can go back to mulling things over, I guess.

We didn’t really talk much along the way back, probably because of what we talked about in the cafe. 

God dammit why did I have to confront her about it, 

At least the fact that she’s considering telling me means it’s probably not something bad, like she committed murder and was washing the blade in snow for some reason. 

She slumped down, exhausted.

“I give up.”

“Huh?”

“What do you think? Should I just tell you?”

Hey, you can’t just give up after all that thinking! Think of how much time you wasted already!

But I don’t think that’s what I should answer. 

Something like “it’s not my choice to make”, is at least, a more polite way to answer the question.

But should I tell her that?

What her question basically amounts to is “Can I trust you?”. Be it not to tell anyone of her secret, that I won’t mock her for it, or whatever baggage comes with knowing.

I mean… probably?

Depends on the context but it’s not like I can’t keep a secret, so I guess yes?

It’s the first time someone’s shared their secret with me but I'll try my best.

But still…

“You’re just pushing your responsibility onto me.”

“That’s…. yeah.”

Why’s she so open about this? 

Jeez… 

“I don’t think I have to tell you but you should make that decision on your own.”

“Mhm.”

“But I’ll say this: whatever happens, I’ll be on your side.”

“Sounds like a line from a romance novel.”

“Ah.” 

“But thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Kinda embarrassed but hey, glad I can help. Hope I sounded sincere enough.

“Ah, the tart’s probably done.”

Oh!

I waited with eager eyes as she took out the strawberry tart and let it cool a bit.

 

“Alright, I’ve decided.”

Abigail finally said after about ten minutes of silence. 

I was only beginning to chow down on the tart at that point.

“I’ll tell you.”

“Mhph!”

Ah jeez hold on hold on hold on!

I quickly swallowed, careful not to choke.

“Let me finish this first. I want to savour it.”

“Alright then.”

She sat there and waited.

Ah jeez. Was it really right to have done this though? Now that she’s agreed to tell me, I’m starting to get second thoughts. 

Just what am I going to get myself into?

Oh well. I’ll just enjoy this tart first and think about all that later.

I finished up and asked.

“Alright! So then, what is it?”

Abigail took the last bite of hers as well before hesitantly saying.

“My sword is uh… kinda possessed… or something like that…”

Hwat?

“Like…. I think there's someone living in it? That only I can hear?”

“Okay…?” 

That does explain some things though, like why she carries it around all the time or why she blanks out murmuring to something that isn’t there. Or her talking to someone in her room when no one’s there.

Come to think of it, she never really did that during these little scessions, where she doesn’t bring her sword.

And what does that have to do with putting it in the snow? Did it ask her to?

And only she can hear it? Isn’t that what we’d call an imaginary friend?

Her answer only led to more questions.

She poked me.

“You okay?”

“Oh, yeah. I was just thinking about how that kind of explains some of your behavior.”

“Alright… well, it’s a bit awkward but would you want me to introduce it to you?”

“Sure. Let’s clean up before that though.”

“Oh, yeah.”

She might as well show me when we head back to our rooms.

I’m still skeptical about some parts but I’ll play along for now.

As we cleaned, I heard her breath a sigh of relief.

I gave her a hug. Her neck was covered in sweat.

“Finally got that weight off your chest, huh.”

“Y-yeah…..”

“Don’t worry, I believe you.”

“Thanks.”

She hugged me back. 

While it would be a lie to say I completely believe her, it’s not like I think she’s lying. She could have just been hallucinating or developed an imaginary friend out of loneliness. But that's not something I should tell her upfront, at least, not after she finally said it.

We finished up and walked back.

“So um, what’s the sword like?”

“He’s…. hard to describe. Kind of childish, cocky, but there to help when needed. Really cheerful too. He’s apparently a swordsman who graduated from here a decade or so ago and died on the battlefield.”

“Huh…” 

I guess I should give him my respect. He must have suffered a lot during the war. 

“I don’t really get why he’d appear in a sword ten years later but hey, it happened and now I gotta live with him.”

“I see.”

“We’re here.”

We went into her room.

“Alright, Heather, this is Al, Al, this is Heather, yadayadayada.”

“Um…. hello?”

She stood there paused for a few seconds before going.

“Al?”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, give me a second.”

She sighed.

“Hah…Why are you stuttering?”

“...”

“You’ve seen her before, haven’t you?”

“...”

“What, so I’m not included in people now?”

“...”

“How…. alright, I won’t question it. Let’s just say he said hi too.”

She sighed, annoyed.

“He’s…. quite the something, huh?”

“Feels like I’m dealing with a four year old.”

“Haha… um… thank you for your efforts during the war?”

Talking to something that isn’t really there feels kind of awkward.

“He says he didn’t do much, so there’s not much to thank for.”

“I see….”

This really does kind of feel like she just has an imaginary friend.

“It’s… kind of hard to believe, isn’t it?”
“Well, it’s either you’re telling the truth or you have an imaginary friend you think is the sword.”

“That’s…  not really something I can deny.”

Thankfully, I thought of something on the way here.

“He can hear me, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, then there’s an easy way to test that out. We have you leave the room and I tell the sword a password or something, and he’ll repeat it to you.”

“Good idea.”

She went out the door and called to me.

“Just this?”

“Maybe further back, the walls aren’t really that thick.”

“Got it.”

I waited a bit and assumed she at least couldn't hear me if I talked normally.

“Well, you heard me. Password will be H P M Z. H P M Z.”

I paused for the sword to get all that.

“Alright, you can come back.”

I opened the door and called to her, to see her about five meters away.
“H P M Z.”

She said before we were even back in her room.
“I assume you didn’t hear through the door?”

“No, Al was panicking cause he can’t memorize four letters. So he shouted at me as you were talking to him.”

“Hehe alright then. That confirms it.”

“Thanks… Shut up Al.”

“What did he say?”

“He’s whining that I told you.”

“Pffft. Don’t worry, it’s not like I can tell someone else about it.”

“Still hurts his pride, at least, what little of it he has.”
“Ah. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, he’ll get over it.”

“Sure…” 

Are we sure this is fine?

Well, if she says so. If he can be this active after a war has happened, he can probably get over anything.

 

Nothing much happened after that. I just went home after we talked a bit more.

That resolved a lot, actually. 

I guess it’ll make it kind of awkward when I can’t hear Al. Maybe there’s some sort of magic that can help with that?

I could borrow some books on ghosts from the library…

I laid on my bed, staring at the ceiling.

…..

So she was able to say it.

Was she not afraid that I was lying when I said I’ll believe her?

She didn’t even ask me to promise not to tell anyone. Does she just have that much trust in me? Actually, she probably just forgot. I’m reading too much into it, like always…

Dammit.

I wonder…. Will I be able to return that trust one day?

That one day, I’d be able to tell her? Or maybe even Amy and the others?

…

Well, one day isn’t now at any rate. No point in stressing over it.

…

Yet I do.

God damn it. 

I shook my head wildly.

Just forget it forget it forget it!

Hah…

What will I do when that time comes?

Oh for the love of-

 

Author’s notes: I’ll probably make an extra chapter with a bit of dialogue of what Abigail talked about with Al after Heather left as well as what Al said in the introduction with Heather. As for the chapter itself, I never intended for Abigail to tell anyone about the sword but I wrote myself into a bit of a corner by letting Heather commit an investigation. If I don’t give it a payoff, then what’s the point of adding that? I had a vague outline for the general events of the story when I was brainstorming it but this certainly does change things a bit.

Something I wanted to show about Abigail was how she doesn’t really care about what happens around her as long as she isn’t severely affected, as seen with how while interested in Heather’s reasons, she ultimates doesn’t poke any further while when she was questioned over what she’s hiding, she starts thinking about it a lot deeper. 

A few background worldbuilding details here, yes, I based this loosely off of the middle ages in England. Call it cultural appropriation, call it whatever (That might just be me taking weird courses for school). I just wanted to make it a bit closer to an actual European setting compared to the fantasy series I’ve seen. Though naming the currency doesn’t do much, huh. Well shit. For context on prices, a 12 pennies is a shilling, and Abigail’s wage was 4 pennies a day where she’d work 6 hours per day. So yeah, 36 hours of work for a cup of hot chocolate. Shipping was made expensive because monsters rule the sea and shipping would require a fleet of escorts to fend off monsters of the deep. At least, those are just some personal worldbuilding stuff I came up with while writing this chapter.

I’m procrastinating more and more and I’m sorry for that. But as always, I thank you very much for reading.  

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