The Greyfield Chronicles

The manor's dining hall could seat a dozen comfortably, though it usually only had Venza, Nora, Lucius, and more often than not, Vosmer. It was on the east side of the main house, cordoned off by a pair of sliding wooden doors.

On the far end from the door, three great glass windows taller than any person Venza had ever met looked out onto the eastern gardens, lit up as they were by lanterns hanging from posts.

To the right was a connecting door towards the house's kitchen, though Venza had rarely poked her head in there. A wood and glass display cabinet occupied the left, holding enough liquor to keep the entire town happy for a day or two should Lucius ever decide to give the bottles away.

Her father sat at the head of the table, near the windows, with his wife at his left, Vosmer on his right. Venza took the seat next to her mother, with Aiela in front of her.

Magical stones fixed in lanterns on the walls cast the room in a warm, gentle yellow glow, illuminating dinner: Braised pork in a thick, sweet sauce served with carrots, greens, and fresh bread.

The adults had opened one of her father's bottles to enjoy, leaving her and Aiela with a choice of milk, apple juice, or orange juice. Venza went with the orange.

It didn't take long for them all to dig in.

"So, who taught you your magic?" Nora asked after cleanly swallowing some food.

Aiela finished her mouthful before answering. "My grandmother."

"And where is she now?"

"Gone," Aiela said.

Unlike her husband, Nora didn't take that at face value. "Gone where?"

"Honey, I don't think that's-" Lucius began to interrupt, but Nora held up her hand.

"Let her answer, dear."

Aiela gave Nora a curious look, then answered, "I don't know. She's not in the habit of sharing."

Venza couldn't really see her mother without craning her neck, but it was obvious Nora had an appraising look on her face. "So she trains you to be one of the most advanced mages of your age and then just leaves you to your own devices?"

"She's a woman of whimsy," Aiela answered. "Truthfully, I believe she took me in while in a good mood, more than anything. She's not prone to charity, though she does have a thing for making deals."

A moment of silence as Nora ate another mouthful while thinking. "Your grandmother, how powerful is-"

Her question was interrupted as Nora fell into a coughing fit. Lucius was immediately up and next to her, rubbing her back for warmth.

Nora had been prone to her coughing fits more and more. Despite the commanding presence she displayed when receiving them, Venza knew she spent most of the day resting in her room.

"Are you alright, Lady Greyfield?" Aiela asked. There was something in her expression that Venza couldn't read.

Her mother could clearly understand it, though, because Nora now looked at Aiela with some concern as she drank a glass of water. "I'm fine. It's the damned Mana Sickness."

"My sympathies," Aiela offered. "I've never seen it before, but I know of it."

"I'm assuming your grandmother's never had a problem with it, then," Nora said, fishing for information.

"Oma's never taxed herself beyond her capacity, to my knowledge," Aiela answered. "Perhaps back in the day, when she had not yet reached the height of her power."

If Venza had any doubts her mother knew who Aiela's grandmother was before, they were gone now.

"I'll think about it overnight," Nora said at last. "But for now, you can stay in the guest room across from Venza's."

"Thank you," Aiela answered. "I will try not to make you regret it."

Nora nodded, and then the conversation moved on. Lucius brought up the subject of the Bloodbeaks they'd fought in the afternoon, and asked her opinion.

"You say these creatures are impervious to mundane weaponry?" Nora asked, pointing the question at Aiela.

"Correct," Aiela answered. "It's a standard Protection effect."

Nora hummed, contemplating.

"Light them on fire or douse them in acid and they won't come out unscathed," Aiela explained. "But you probably understand that already, Lady Greyfield."

Nora nodded, indicating she did understand. Her next statement was directed at her husband. "A corp of a dozen mages should do it."

"A dozen?" Lucius repeated. "It's not that I'm being stingy, but that's a lot of mages."

"They don't have to be great," Nora clarified. "You're mainly looking for ones who can imbue short-term enchantments, like Aiela did earlier. The number is for safety. Someone with skills for making longer-lasting ones would be ideal, too."

"I'll look through the roster," Lucius said. "Thank you."

"By which he means I'll look through the roster," Vosmer said, giving Venza a conspiratorial wink that made her chuckle.

"And make sure they're briefed on how they're expected to use their magic," Nora reminded him.

"Dear, these are all graduates from the-"

"Remind them please," Nora insisted. "You'd be surprised how single-minded graduates from the academy can be."

"How do you mean?" Aiela asked.

"Odolenian military doctrine considers mage corps long-range bombardment units by default," Nora explained.

Venza nodded along. She'd heard her mother rant about this before. Nora considered it a waste to have mages use nothing but their long-range spells since more often than not a group of archers could accomplish the same.

"What a waste," Aiela concurred.

Nora's lips curved into a smirk. "How would you wage war with magic?"

"Keep me around and you might find out," Aiela offered.

Nora snorted, the least ladylike Venza had ever seen her. "I hope not, but I'd be curious to see it."

There was a knock at the door before one of the male servants entered. "Begging your pardon, milord, milady."

"What is it, Steve?" Lucius asked.

"I've been told the men are currently celebrating at the tavern," the servant answered. "And are asking if Lieutenant Vosmer would like to join them. Something about him being a hero."

Venza didn't know if this was normal for most military outfits, but her father and Vosmer never shied away from rubbing elbows with the soldiers.

"I can drop by for a few drinks," Vosmer answered. "You coming, Lucius?"

Lucius shot a nervous glance at his wife, but she nodded. "I'll probably turn in early, anyway," she said, smiling. "Have fun, boys."

The two of them finished their meals and set off, bidding the rest of them good night. Venza watched the door as it closed behind them, wondering what that was like- to be celebrated as a hero by the soldiers you fought with.

A part of her complained that Vosmer never would have gone into battle if not for her and Aiela. The more prudent part of her told that part to shut up and stop acting like a child.

"This is your room," Venza said cheerfully. They were in the second floor halfway, almost right above the dining hall. "Mine's right here."

Venza gestured to the opposite door, right in front of Aiela's.

Aiela eyed the door in front of her, turned the knob, and made an appreciative hum. "This is really mine?"

"For the night, at least," Venza answered. "Hopefully more than that."

Venza hesitated. She didn't think her mother would say 'no' in the morning, but…

"If you can't stay here, I'll- I'll put in a good word with one of the servants-"

Aiela looked taken aback, but smiled softly. "I appreciate that."

"Of course. I was the one who brought you here, after all," Venza answered. "It would be bad if I didn't do all I could to see it through."

"Ah, still trying to be my shield, are you?" Aiela teased.

"O-of course," Venza stammered. "Like I said, it's my duty."

Aiela didn't answer, seeming content to let her stand there feeling like an idiot. Instead, Aiela's bag floated into the room, setting itself down in front of the bed. Venza had never seen magic used for such mundane things. Her mother certainly never did the chores with spellwork.

"Um, good night!" Venza said. "And, uh, the bathroom's the door we just passed. Don't forget to lock the door if you use it."

"I'll keep that in mind, Venza. Good night."

With that, Aiela closed the door, and Venza turned to her own room for the night.

Aiela

She touched the control orb responsible for the room's lighting, willing the wall-mounted light stones to give a dim glow. She hadn't entirely been on board with this little life-changing decision Oma had, but she knew better than to refuse the most powerful Witch in history.

Aiela hoped Nora Greyfield had the same sense. The room they'd furbished her with was almost as large as Oma's hut, at least physically. Oma's hut was a lot larger on the inside than it looked, though most people wouldn't know that because of how dark the interior always was when there were guests. When it was just the two of them, the hut was usually quite well lit.

Her room's walls had been painted a solid, light green. She'd have preferred something a bit darker, but it would do for now. She could always convince them to let her paint over it later. A four-poster bed occupied one side of the room, with an empty wardrobe and cabinet available for use. She'd been provided a book shelf with no books, though Venza had mentioned a library in passing. A single throne chair sat in one corner of the room, looking out onto the gardens of Greyfield Manor through a paneled window.

Aiela sat down on the bed, feeling less tired than she expected. Dealing with the Bloodbeaks and attempting to cast Regrowth without enough power had been exhausting, but dealing with the damned healer dwarfed both of them combined.

Lily Jones. She'd remember that name, assuming she stuck around.

She was confident Nora wouldn't toss her out, but there was still a smidgen of doubt. A plan had to be drawn up for what to do. Maybe she could convince Nora. Then again, perhaps not being right under a competent mage's nose would actually be better for her.

As her thoughts trailed, the light in the room suddenly dimmed, lower than she'd set it. She smiled, realizing what that meant, and turned to the throne chair in the corner. It had changed facing, no longer looking out onto the garden but instead towards her. A deep shadow had engulfed it entirely, such that she could barely see its outline. She could, however, tell she was no longer alone.

"Good evening, Oma," Aiela said. "Was the sorrow of parting too much for you?"

A glimmer in the darkness meant Oma was smiling, her razor sharp iron teeth reflecting light. "Not even a day apart and your cheek has grown, girl."

"You told me to grow a backbone," Aiela answered, shrugging her shoulders. "What are you doing here? Not that I don't appreciate the visit."

"I just came by for a chat," Oma Mala answered. Aiela noted how she hadn't mentioned with whom.

"Must be nice to have so much time on your hands," Aiela quipped. "Being practically immortal and all."

"Maybe after a few decades you'll figure it out," Oma Mala answered. "You wouldn't want to be stuck a nine-year-old forever, would you, girl?"

Aiela grimaced at the thought. "Certainly not. Some degenerate might make untoward advances on me and claim I'm older than I look."

"I doubt anyone who tried would survive that attempt," Oma Mala commented, chuckling darkly.

"They might survive as a cautionary tale to anyone else who thinks about it," Aiela answered. "Are you far away?"

Oma Mala huffed. "I'm never far enough away that you're out of reach."

The lights slowly flared back to life, and all Aiela could see was an empty chair, now facing towards the bed rather than out onto the gardens.

"Good night, Oma," she spoke to the empty room.

"Good night, girl," the witch's voice answered back.