Archive of Our Own

It was a very pleasant evening.

Lord Beldaruit had quite the unexpected guest – a long-time friend, now traveling as a nomadic witch. It was one of those visits that stretch well into the night. They couldn’t get enough of talking to each other, and Riliphin didn’t have to worry about getting overly noticed, especially after Lady Vinanna joined the party later.

The friend of Lord Beldaruit’s brought plenty of tales to share from faraway lands: some thrilling, some amusing, some eerie, they flowed like a whimsical yet harmonious melody. And not only that. Soft parcels wrapped in silk or thin paper, small wooden cases, leather pouches laid scattered and forgotten all over the table, the chairs, the floor. Riliphin could guess his master, as well as himself, would spend most of the next day going through them: unpacking, and sorting, and admiring.

One of the gifts, however, received plenty of immediate attention and praise. A tall bottle, carefully nestled in straw and sewn up, was removed from its wrapping and uncorked soon after Lady Vinanna’s arrival. Its contents looked something between honey and amber in color; the liquid sparkled faintly under the light and smelled of sunny meadows. The taste, according to everybody present, was refined and exquisite, a testament to the ability of the renowned highland brewers.

Some hours past midnight the party headed out to Argentgard where the host would see the guest off. Some new topic of conversation must have stalled them, and Riliphin, in waiting for his master’s return, started to tidy the chambers up. He gathered all the parcels, straightened the chairs, swept up the ash. As he collected the cups to be rinsed off, the warm grassy aroma reached him again, and his hands slowed down. Riliphin found himself wondering about the taste.

It must have been the second-hand giddiness of a party or the surreal feeling that small hours brought on, but the idea didn’t strike him as outrageous right away. Lord Beldaruit had always stressed that Riliphin was free to use just about anything in the household as he saw fit, with or without permission. Drinking alcohol was not something that had ever got explicitly prohibited either. And with a wine so rare and spoken of so highly… it’d be a little disappointing to miss out. Certainly, the safest way was to simply ask – but then, there was still no sign of his master, and it was getting so late…

Hesitantly, Riliphin picked up a bottle to weigh it in his hand, and then it was like his body acted on its own accord. His wrist flicked to pour out a serving into one of the clean cups with surprising precision, just the way he had seen the others do earlier. Bewildered by his own rashness, he hurried to put the bottle back and stared into golden liquid now swishing in the cup. At that point wasting it seemed like a worse crime than drinking it. Riliphin took the cup and had a tentative sip.

The taste was oddly elusive, a handful of subtle fragrances that blended into each other so smoothly one could hardly pick on a specific strand. Riliphin only caught a whisper of mountain apple at first. After the second sip he got scarlet lemon and midowdew. Gentle warmth was spreading down his throat, very different from the burn and sting that had been inseparable from alcohol in his mind. The third sip brought on a new discovery: the flavor shifted towards sharper and fresher if he held the wine in his mouth without swallowing. The fourth seemed especially sweet in comparison – and then his cup ran out.

As he got back to work, Riliphin noted that, other than remaining warmth and mild lightheadedness, he didn’t feel much different from the usual. He saw to the cups, put the bottle away with particular care and was just starting to disable the redundant light-nests when Lord Beldaruit returned aflutter and hurried both of them to bed.

*
The party remained an overall hazy single-piece memory, occasionally enjoyed but never revisited in much detail. Therefore, Riliphin didn’t get any incentive to reflect on his conduct until a fortnight later, preceding another, much less exciting visit. Lord Beldaruit was expecting a small group of librarians, so as to negotiate, as far as Riliphin understood, a certain point of contention. He spent most of the afternoon reclining idly, face grave, in a kind of mental preparation for a clash. When he spoke up, it was neither the moment nor the topic Riliphin could anticipate.

“Say, Riliphin, the night when we had that hopeless wastrel over… You might remember the bottle of highland wine among the magnitude of gifts we received. I do not quite recollect: was there any of it left? Lady Eldelle is quite the appreciator, and it’d be…”

He trailed off in mild puzzlement, peering at his student. It was no wonder. Riliphin was running hot and cold and his face – his face must have told the whole story. The mere mention of the party brought the memories back with ruthless clarity and cast a new light on his own actions. What had he been thinking? Acting behind his master’s back in such a way proved him undeserving of trust and messing with treasured possessions of others was surely no better than stealing.

Lord Beldaruit coughed delicately to break the silence.

“Is something the matter?”

“Yes, I- I truly am sorry! It was inexcusable behavior on my part. I should have never touched anything so valuable in the first place and…”

“Now, now, child, there’s no need to torment yourself over this.” Lord Beldaruit lowered himself back onto the cushions. “I, too, wouldn’t call myself a stranger to accidents of the sort. It’s no big loss that we don’t have the bottle anymore. In honesty, I’m disinclined to think it could make much of a difference.”

Riliphin blinked. His poor master, he thought, couldn’t imagine a student of his being anything worse than clumsy. Anyhow, a clearer explanation was probably in order.

“We do still have the bottle, master. But… you might find the contents scarcer than expected.” He laced and unlaced his fingers to keep them from shaking. “I p-poured a cup out for myself. I do apologize.”

He ventured to glance up after a several seconds of getting no reply. Lord Beldaruit appeared to be looking into the middle distance.

“Oh. Did you, then?” he said at last. And then, quite unexpectedly, gave a laugh. “Well! and how did you find it?”

It wasn’t exactly the turn of conversation Riliphin had been preparing for. However, he wasn’t in the habit of ignoring his master’s questions either.

“The flavor seemed very complex,” he started uncertainly, “but the components didn’t reveal themselves easily. It tasted both sweet, like fruit, and fresh, like wild grasses, in turns. I thought there would be bitterness but there was almost none, only a faint, underlying sort…” he faltered and sighed. “It’s so stupid, really. I had never even tried any normal wine. I wouldn’t know what makes this one special anyway.”

“You did pin down a couple of peculiarities that make it stand out among the rest. Yet, it’s certainly true that appreciating the merits of a well-crafted wine takes discernment that only comes with experience. We’ll need to embark on this part of training one of these days.” Lord Beldaruit was wearing a smile that, like the highland wine, seemed to contain a mixture of things. After a moment, he shook it off and pushed himself up briskly. “Now then, if you could kindly bring the bottle? Let’s see if we have enough left to weaponize.”

The leftovers were consequently examined and proclaimed sufficient. Later on that day they played a crucial part in furthering the negotiations between the Great Hall and the Tower of Tomes. Lord Beldaruit used the emptied container to explain the intricacies of wine storage to Riliphin, and with that, the tale of bottle of highland wine reached its end.

Or so they thought.

*
Late night adult parties were becoming something of a tradition at Qifrey’s atelier, and a stray apprentice barging in onto them likewise. On Olruggio’s estimation, it tended to happen just about every other time lately. Coco had nightmares. Agott had sudden urges to check why the lights were on downstairs, or, possibly, also nightmares. Richeh had attacks of nighttime hunger. Tetia had an insurmountable need for company any time she was awake for any reason.

On that particular night the two of them just had the second toast and were going through back-and-forth about whether to keep things light or start on a mix-fry, when first signs of upstairs activity occurred.

“Must be Tetia,” Qifrey inferred based on nothing but the idea of some consistency in the order.

“She isn’t skipping,” Olruggios retorted.

“Well, it is way past midnight.”

Olruggio set his cup down and listened in more closely. The unknown’s descent down the stairs was a rather slow affair, faltering at times. He still maintained Tetia couldn’t keep it that low. Agott would likely be more determined in her step, midnight or no midnight. Coco or Richeh, then. Whoever it was passed the first flight of stairs and started on the second one without haste.

“I do hope Coco will be able to have a restful night today,” Qifrey said, obviously going through similar mental deductions.

“No, it’s Richeh,” Olruggio decided, based on nothing but wishful thinking. In truth, he couldn’t tell for sure. Occasional pauses and mild shuffling could be interpreted both as hesitation and as drowsiness. The unknown was now reaching the final steps (Tetia would have already been talking by that point). If she lingered before the door, then it would be Coco, after all.

The door creaked open and Richeh appeared before them, somewhat tousled, wearing a cardigan over her nightdress and a single shoe. Qifrey gave her a preemptively sympathetic look.

“Did you have a bad dream?”

“I want a cheese pasty,” Riche answered resolutely.

They didn’t have the pasties proper in the spread, but there was plenty of aged cheese, its mild earthiness perfect for pairing with tangy rootberry wine. Qifrey quickly set to work, mixing up a couple ladlefuls of runny batter, Olruggio adjusted the flames in the hearth. Richeh plopped on the nearest chair with a front row view of their late night feast. The jug of rootberry wine stood right in the middle, tall and proud. Olruggio figured making a fuss of hiding it would just be counterproductive. Best to play the whole thing off as nothing.

It was getting rather tough to act all nonchalant though, as Richeh was now staring straight at the jug, head perched on her hand. To no avail Olruggio shuffled snack plates around the table as a distraction tactic. At last she asked:

“Is there a kind that tastes like bacon?”

Taken aback, Olruggio had to contemplate for a bit.

“Suppose not. Meat is tricky to ferment, tends to just rot.”

Richeh gave a disappointed scoff and oozed further down her seat. At this point she seemed more sleepy than hungry, but the smell of frying was already drifting through the air and there was no turning back.

“Rili says it tastes like fruit and meadowdew. But fruits barely taste anything other than sweet. And meadowdew is like… rainwater.”

A dramatic clang came from the hearth, interrupting both Richeh’s analysis and Olruggio’s attempts to connect meadowdew and rainwater in his head. Qifrey, who was standing with his back to them, had his right hand lax in the air and the spatula on the table.

Riche raised in her seat a little.

“It’s not crispy yet,” she informed Qifrey.

“Yes, yes, a couple more minutes, I think,” Qifrey muttered, repicking the spatula. After some vigorous prodding and flipping, he cleared his throat and offered a painfully casual question: “How far apart are the two of you, again?”

“Two years and six months,” Richeh proclaimed with pride, much like anything that had to with her brother.

“That’s- hardly sufficient!” Qifrey stammered out as he turned around to telegraph mild panic to Olruggio with his whole face.

“Hardly sufficient!?” Richeh bristled with indignation that operated on the same principle as the earlier pride.

“I meant to say, when it comes to indulging in such…” The leaking cheese sizzled on the griddle, taking the attention of everyone in the room and thus sparing Qifrey from any further explanation. Olruggio whipped out a plate. Riche ran over to monitor the state of pasty. It was, after all, a thin line between fried cheesy bits adding to the crunch and giving the whole snack a burned taste.

Some clock marks later the peace was restored, the griddle cleaned. Richeh wandered off to her bedroom midsnack, plate and all. Yet Qifrey was staring into the hearth, where the flames were starting to die down, with a suspiciously intent air. When he finally turned to look at the remains of their midnight feast, Olruggio got to briefly rejoice: surely they were getting back on track. Qifrey’s next words, therefore, were quite a splash of cold water.

“I need to have a word with Beldaruit in the near future.”

It might have taken Olruggio a couple of beats to connect the dots, but the fine details hardly even mattered. He knew full well: in these walls any solemn mentions of Beldaruit were never conductive of any light-hearted partying.

“C’mon, what for?” he rebutted with a sigh. “I’m sure Beldaruit knows.”

“Knows! I’m certain he’s the one behind it.”

“Well, what are you even gonna say, then? That kind of stuff is for a master and an apprentice to work out.”

“Our ateliers are more likely to naturally mix from now on.” Qifrey shot a meaningful look into the stairway where Richeh had recently disappeared. “I dare say this alone makes it our concern, to a degree. Besides, you know how Beldaruit can get. A… different perspective might not be amiss. I don’t intend to be disrespectful.”

Funny that, Olruggio grumbled to himself, covering the jug, how Qifrey never intended to be surly and ‘disrespectful’ and Beldaruit never intended to be overbearing and obnoxious, and yet there they were. The drinking mood was obviously killed for the night, but at least he could console himself with the assumption that he got to sit the impending exchange of perspectives out.

Little did he know.

*
Olruggio walked into it like a fool. Several weeks later, when they were gearing up for a Great Hall trip, he had clean forgotten about that conversation and its ominous allusions to near future. For once the whole atelier was setting out. The girls were to have a routine wellness check, Olruggio needed to pick up some materials and secure a couple of potential commissions, the brushbug tagged along for no reason, and Qifrey… Qifrey, too, had some unnamed business in the Great Hall. Being blind, Olruggio considered it great news: between the two of them it would be much easier to juggle the kids and the appointments. Besides, it wasn’t often they got to form such a procession.

“What’s on your list, Olly?” Qifrey asked as they walked out of the medical spire.

“A couple hours of shopping, all around the place. Then, I gotta stop by the guild and try to track down Myseo. Might have better luck later at night though, I suppose…”

“Hm. Shopping is best postponed as well; we wouldn’t want to be saddled with parcels for the rest of the day. And the girls might want to join us. In that case, shouldn’t we start from Argentgard?”

Olruggio sensed danger at last. “Argentgard?”

“It seems like a perfect opportunity to pay a visit to Beldaruit. It won’t take long.”

Of all the bold-faced lies Qifrey had ever dared tell him…

“Look,” Olruggio said, somewhat hectically. “If you gotta, you gotta, sure. But I- I could use this time to run down to the guild, I guess. Since we’re taking the girls shopping, we should get everything else cleared first, right?”

There he had to stop because Qifrey was giving him the look. That slightly melancholic, resigned and gentle look of somebody who understands everything and doesn’t murmur, only wonders… only wishes…

“Of course, I wouldn’t ask you to neglect your own obligations in favor of mine, Olly. Do focus on your schedule, if you’re busy today. I just thought it’d carry more weight if we acted as a united front. What better way to impart that we, as an atelier, have certain policies in place…”

“Well, sure, just tell him I co-sign everything and…”

“Without a doubt, Beldaruit remembers how involved you were in arranging the matters for Richeh. It’d only be natural for you to speak up when it comes to her well-being, specifically. Perhaps, also more proper than my interference, which could indeed be seen as overstepping.”

Orluggio shut his eyes and massaged his brow for a minute. He was running on about three hours of sleep.

“He’s gonna ask us to dinner, you do realize?” he asked hopelessly.

Qifrey, no longer wistful or meek, broke into a smile.

“Oh, that won’t be an issue. We don’t have to accept.”

*
There remained a faint, rather callous hope that Beldaruit would be indisposed to see them. It was crushed within seconds of their arrival: the Wise in Teachings was in his top shape and they even got to witness his corporeal form. Olruggio was the one who felt himself close to discorporating and floating away under the initial storm of exclamations. What a surprise it was! His dear unannounced apprentice! And with a tie-in friend, just like in the good old times! His grandapprentices around too, the whole set – stars above! That was simply splendid, and they were all to stay for dinner. He absolutely insisted.

Qifrey was withstanding the same storm with a sort of stiff dignity. As his former master started to wind down, he threw Olruggio a look that was probably meant as a cry for help or at least an invitation to speak. Somebody had to announce the reason of their visit, and Olruggio supposed he was offered the honors. Shamelessly, he crept back a little, taking shelter behind the nearest cusp of silverwoods. There had been enough self-sacrifice on his end for the day.

Left to fend for himself, Qifrey straightened his back further and started in a rather somber tone.

“There are some points that need to be addressed, especially in the case we’re all to enjoy your hospitality tonight.”

“Oh?”

“I’m inclined to think that we differ in our stances on getting young witches exposed to the habits that can prove harmful to them.”

“Hardly anything to fret about,” Beldaruit countered with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I will, of course, refrain from smoking around children.”

“Much obliged, but that’s not the key issue,” Qifrey informed him icily.

“In that case, unless you believe we will set to gambling after dessert…”

Olruggio, seized with a sudden feeling that he couldn’t take another moment of this, poked his head out of the silverwoods: “Drinking. He’s talking about drinking.”

Qifrey didn’t look appreciative enough, and Beldaruit’s eyebrows started creeping upwards, slowly but surely.

“You see, my dear Qifrey, when I said ‘dinner’, what I intended to communicate was indeed a classic dinner, not the kind that gets followed by a cocktail party. Besides, why would I… how old are the dear girls, again – ten?”

“Twelve.”

Should have gone with ten, Olruggio thought, taking refuge amidst the nature again. Might have bought them all a year or two down the road.

“That would be rather an early start,” Beldaruit pointed out with gentle concern. Olruggio rested the back of his head against a trunk and slowly exhaled. There they go. Qifrey was going to spontaneously combust just – about – n…

“As I keep saying! Were you even listening? As a matter of fact, I have no idea where the bottom line goes for you, seeing how you consider your own apprentice, who’s only marginally older…”

“Qifrey,” Beldaruit cut in with a certain measure of steel, “children have their own ways to show you when they are ready to tackle complicated matters. I never sheltered you, did I? And look at yourself!”

If Qifrey looked at himself, it definitely didn’t help to brighten his mood.

“Complicated, yes, challenging, yes, but this is just – unnecessary recklessness. And for the reference, you weren’t above trying to keep me on a short leash up until the fourth test!”

“Up until the third test, at the very most. And since we’re touching on the topic of unnecessary recklessness, may I remind you…”

So, they were taking the predictable route down the memory lane. Olruggio could just as well get comfortable in his hideout – and shoot it, he really hoped the far-end stall wouldn’t sell out early. With a sigh he let his whole body sag against a behemoth clasp of roots. If nothing else, at least he was stuck at a place with unbeatable emotional microclimate. He had heard people actually took the trouble of traveling to the gardens just to decompress. If he tried his damnedest to tune those two out, he too might gain some inner peace. Never let anyone say Olruggio of the Torch doesn’t do anything for his health.

He took several steps deeper into the grove, stopping in a quiet spot shielded by the trunks, and raised his head. Up above, the silvery sheen of leaves seemed to fill the whole space between the trees with gentle glimmer that didn’t strain even Olruggio’s overworked eyes. The air was still, yet the light playing off shiny surfaces created an illusion of motion here and there. He tracked the flickers lazily, feeling his thoughts start to wander. Perhaps he needed to sit down, he expected he’d be getting drowsy soon enough.

What he definitely didn’t expect was to suddenly meet someone’s eye.

Olruggio and the stranger, half-hidden among the upper branches, stared at each other in silence for a few moments before the realization came that it wasn’t, in fact, a stranger. Richeh’s hair, Beldaruit’s robes – it all added up to the other kid from that accursed atelier. Riliphin was the name. For better or worse, Beldaruit’s apprentice turned out too well-mannered for them to arrive to a tacit agreement of subsequently ignoring each other. The kid tucked the book he might or might not have been reading under his arm, slid down and landed some paces away to offer formal greetings.

“We’re here to disrupt the rest of the day for your master and you,” Olruggio reported in after half-heartedly returning them. “Sorry about that.”

Riliphin turned his head to where the hotbed of disruption was located. He was twisting his hands nervously.

“There seems to be a misunderstanding. I fear predis Qifrey really has the wrong idea of what has occurred. I should probably explain…”

Olruggio shrugged.

“They just needed something to kick off from. It’s sort of a quarterly event. Never mind, let them have at it.” He attempted to contemplate another silverwood trunk before giving up and rubbing his eyes instead. “Why were you kids discussing wine bouquets anyway?”

“Richeh sent me a list of snacks that were withhe- that is, not given to her at the atelier. I sent back a few that would survive the journey and commented on some of the others.”

Olruggio blood ran a little cold at that. He had a creeping suspicion all this had some relation to the last month’s incident when Richeh showed up while he was trying to connect two cogwheels on the common room’s floor and dropped a couple of butterseed cookies in front of him. “This is for you, master Olruggio,” she said then with a remarkably solemn air, and he said, “Thanks,” and shoved both at once into his mouth. Come to think of it, maybe they were mix-seed crackers? Crap. He was really going mental over those cogwheels back then. He’d better casually check where he was sitting on that irrichehtation scale, in the light of a shopping trip and everything.

“She didn’t mention the highland wine specifically. I think something different was implied,” Riliphin continued in the meantime. “But it’s the only kind I’m familiar with, so…”

The word had Olruggio switch gears from his atelier woes pretty fast.

“Wait, you said highland? That highland?”

“Um, the meadowdew kind? If that’s what you…” Riliphin must have assessed his expression and rushed in panic. “I- I realize it was very self-indulgent and wasteful! I shouldn’t have…”

“No,” Olruggio said flatly, holding his hand up. “Nope. Don’t go regretting it now. That’s just unnatural. Nobody has ever lain upon their deathbed and thought, ‘Oh, I wish hadn’t tried the highland finest’. Darn. Thinking back to the kind of swipes I started off with… ‘s a miracle I didn’t go abstinent for life.”

Riliphin was looking at him with wide eyes.

“I… understand,” he said cautiously. Then, after a few beats: “If you don’t mind me asking, do you feel this way because you have also tried it? Or because you never have…”

Olruggio answered with a sour look.

“No need to rub it in, okay?”

“M-my bad. I’m sorry but I think our bottle was finished last week.”

“Figures.”

A particularly indignant shriek made both of them turn their heads towards the clearing. Olruggio thought it might have been Beldaruit, but honestly, at times like this the two sometimes got hard to tell apart. He strained his ears a little to make out what stage of the whole production they were reaching. The fifth exam… something about Arklaums… Easthies… Easthies? Olruggio furrowed his brow. That seemed alarming. The combination hardly even made any sense. They could be veering into a whole new direction, for all he knew. And he still had a good dozen of items on his shopping list.

An intervention was obviously required. However, Olruggio knew from experience that stepping in with peace-making efforts was like plunging into a vortex, especially in his case. He scanned the area for any sources of inspiration. Naturally, one of the first entities his eyes landed on was Riliphin, who was likewise observing the scene, with a somewhat tragic twist to his mouth. That sight was enough for Olruggio to get a rough outline of a plan.

“You know what, on second thought, you were right.”

“Right?..”

“You really gotta go explain. The whole situation.”

Olruggio made an encouraging gesture in the direction of the war zone. Riliphin didn’t appear much encouraged, which was fair. He inhaled and exhaled slowly. Then put the book he was still holding into a safe nook between the roots. Then straightened his cap and tucked in flyaway strands. At that, he must have ran out of preparations to make and, with one last uneasy glance at Olruggio, set out at a moderate pace.

Olruggio crept behind him to the edge of the grove. As the person orchestrating the whole thing, he felt it was within his rights to observe. Discreetly, of course, in between the trunks – he had no intention of reminding anyone of his existence. The visibility was not the best but he could just about make out Riliphin approaching the duo and offering Qifrey his share of formalities. The dead quiet that fell upon the former master and the former student as they realized they weren’t actually alone (the empty shell of Olruggio hardly counted as a presence) felt deeply satisfying.

“Predis Qifrey. I apologize but I couldn’t help hearing some of your discussion. It appears that certain events have been presented to you in a light sadly disadvantageous to my master. I beg for an opportunity to clarify the matters.”

“Riliphin,” Beldaruit muttered. “Why, this is most peculiar – I could swear you have left.”

“Yes, I needed to reference a scheme. I came back.” As no response followed – and which could have? – Riliphin determinedly turned his attention back to the main point and his eyes to Qifrey. “Please, understand that my egregious imprudence was in no way fostered or encouraged by Lord Beldaruit. I acted without his leave and in his absence. The responsibility for any trouble befalling your atelier, therefore, rests solely on me, and I deeply regret being the cause.” There he must have reached the point he had mentally rehearsed up to, Olruggio assumed. “Did… did Richelette do something?”

In the duration of this avowal Beldaruit made to speak several times but eventually settled on crossing his arms and aiming his own unfaltering glare at Qifrey. Qifrey, on his part, looked like he was being slow roasted alive. In contrast to his ex-master, he seemed in no hurry to say anything at all and, when compelled to by the last question, rather fumbled with his words.

“No… not really, other than displaying some interest… or, rather, disinterest, in relation to something you supposedly said…” Happening to meet eyes with Beldaruit, Qifrey got some of the fight back in him, from the look of it. “However. Since the subject came up, I’m bound to point out that it requires very careful handling. I might appear overly cautious, but I’ve witnessed too many talented, reasonable witches fall victim to intemperance, to the point where their health or career began to suffer for it.”

Olruggio could have sworn Qufrey’s eye darted somewhere suspiciously near his silverwood hideout.

“Early experience can be quite deceptive and warp the future perspective in a dangerous way. It fuels overconfidence and tempts one to turn a blind eye to the ill effects of abuse. The boundaries of what’s acceptable and proper blur more easily than it may appear. And the life of a witch offers plenty of excuses to forgo moderation – from harsh weather to sometimes overbearing hospitality of our patrons…”

Olruggio was sure of it now: Qifrey was indeed drawing inspiration for this spirited sermon in the whereabouts of his lifelong partner. The staring grew so persistent that Beldaruit seemed to have caught up and started sending inquisitive glances in the same direction. Riliphin wavered for a while before peeking where everybody else was looking. Olruggio wasn’t crazy about the trend.

“…but that only means practicing good habits makes a part of the duties we perform for the public, as well as a crucial component of our own well-being,” Qifrey wrapped up at last. Olruggio yet again tipped his head towards the maze of silver branches above. Odd as it might sound, he was starting to feel that inner peace hit. He was doomed to die in a gutter. They were all doomed to die in a gutter, it appeared, with the bar being set where it was. And maybe that was okay.

“Yes, predis Qifrey,” Riliphin said in a small voice, breaking the brief lull that had fallen over the clearing. Beldaruit cleared his throat and folded his hands neatly in his lap.

“Thank you, Qifrey. That was an impressive piece of self-reflection from somebody who has been – how did it go? – forgoing moderation since age sixteen. Yes, I do know all about the wyrmherders’ ale. No, I never believed you quite so susceptible to migraines. Honestly. I could have supplied you with something better.”

Qifrey, from the look and sound of it, gritted his teeth.

“I fail to see what my personal history has to do with the general principle.”

Right, they hadn’t yet touched on the whole mess of Qifrey’s wyrmherder phase yet, Olruggio realized with his newfound serenity. There goes. Twenty clock-marks at least. But at that moment, fully unexpectedly, Riliphin looked between the two and chimed in:

“Master? If I’m not mistaken in my assumptions, we’re to host a dinner tonight. Will there be any additional instructions for the cooks?”

“Oh dear me, so we are!” Beldaruit exclaimed, somewhere between thrilled and panicked. “What’s the time? The food restriction lists, first – they should be in my study, second to fourth drawer… Qifrey, what did you have for lunch?”

*
A little later they were walking down the hall towards the market stalls, still mildly dazed. The silence, albeit somewhat tense one, felt like a miraculous gift to Olruggio. He had, upon consideration, given up on Myseo. Time constraints aside, Myseo was most likely to be spotted at a tavern anyhow, and Olruggio, a fire magic expert, knew when to not fan the flames. Their atelier was about to become painfully clean, he could tell, for the next several weeks, until the awkward recollections faded a little.

Even though what felt like an eternity had passed, the girls weren’t dismissed and waiting for them yet. It was a shame, really, as the silence seemed to only grown more tense. Olruggio had never been so eager to hear a “Gee, master Olly!” on any occasion. He rubbed the back of his neck and tried to take the matters into his own hands.

“Not a bad lecture, overall. Guess you could consider it a first rehearsal for the time we have to preach abstinence at your own atelier in… five to ten years.” In truth, he was about to say ‘a couple’ but managed to regroup in time.

“I can only hope I’ll be getting more backup from you at that point,” Qifrey shot back.

“I’m already working full time as a handy cautionary tale, ain’t I?” Olruggio grumbled. Then sighed. “So… shopping? We probably have enough time to hit a couple of spots, the boring kind.”

Qifrey looked around in uncertainty.

“The girls could be here any minute now. But then… I suppose I know a decent tea store right around the corner. We couldn’t just show up to dinner empty-handed.”