I wake to the <i>tocking</i> of a tall shadow in a pitch-dark corner,


    rhythmically breaking the murky silence. The old Elm Clock, dragged


    in from the hallway when I was no more than six years old.


    Thick curtains glow silver at the fringes, spilling white light


    across a faded carpet. It’s the only light in the room, just enough


    to see the fuzzy edges of my old room. Enough to see the blankets


    tossed every which way, to see how my tail has scored holes through


    the silky sheets. Such a waste, as always.


    I should know better than this by now, but the moment I’d seen


    Helena off to the guest room, I’d stumbled to my own bed and fell


    straight into it. I couldn''t do that without making sure all my


    scales were covered, most places, but...


    Oh, my mother would hate me for it. Father, too. That might just be


    the best part.


    <hr>


    Crawford Manor is never silent, even in the bright, cold hours of the


    morning. The whisper of wind over curtains, the rhythmic brushing of


    enchanted brooms...


    And now, the clinking of teacups as I pour myself some tea. It''s a


    symphony of the senses I''d heard every day for years, descending down


    into the lobby to find out what nonsense my parents wanted from me.


    The memories are clear as crystal. She''d be here, ready to send me


    off to a tutor, or give me a disappointed frown for something I''d


    done the day before.


    Until they weren''t there anymore, and my chair replaced her old


    favorite. I burned hers after the reading of my parents'' wills, and


    finding out what they''d planned for me.


    I take a sip and close my eyes, sinking into the plush chair. "Gods,"


    I groan to the empty room. "She''d hate this tea. Too floral.


    Good."


    "Hmmm?"


    A sleepy voice drifts down from above, and I draw myself out of my


    thoughts.


    "Ah, you''re up," I smile lightly, jerking my chin in


    Helena''s direction. She’s coming down the stairs to the lobby in a


    cozy-looking blouse and trousers, though I’ve no idea where they


    came from. "Hope the house didn''t bother you in the night."


    "I am, and ah, I did sleep well." Helena says, nodding


    slowly. She gives me a lopsided smile, running a hand through her


    rather messy looking hair. "The... um, the Manor actually woke


    me up by opening the curtains, but I don''t mind."


    She yawns, stretching her arms out. “N-not <i>much</i>, I mean."


    I gesture to the table in front of me, gently tapping a claw against


    the teapot. "I don''t really do breakfast, sorry, but we can pick


    it up in town. Tea?"


    She slumps into the chair across from me, reaching straight for the


    teapot. "Perfect. You''re too kind. No need to buy me breakfast,


    really!”


    Doing my best to ignore poor tea etiquette, I take a long sip of tea,


    lifting up my tail and bringing it around to my lap. Her eyes lazily


    flick down to my hands, to my blackened claws and the scales peeking


    out of my robe.


    "I crashed into you, <i>probably </i>bruised something, and you


    asked for help." I shrug, doing my best to remain casual. A tug


    of my magic makes my claws fade away, before I can damage something


    expensive. "Benny likes you, the Manor likes you..."


    I trail off when I see Helena''s blush, hidden poorly by the lip of


    her teacup.


    She coughs, shakes her head, and sets her tea down. She sticks her


    arms out and stretches, her whole body shivering with the strain. A


    few blinks and shoulder-rolls later, and she suddenly seems much more


    awake.


    "Mm. Th-thank you. And I can keep... using your library? Or is


    it your family''s?"


    I don’t stare at her for all that.


    I <i>don’t</i>. I am Dame Ivy Crawford, and for all that I’m not


    popular, I still have the dignity of my title, probably. And surely,


    people know that I’m the only Crawford left? Maybe she thinks I’m


    the infamous Amelia Crawford’s distant cousin?


    So, instead, I raise an eyebrow, leaning forward to set my teacup


    down with a clink. She’s one of those scholarly sorts; I have just


    the thing for her. “You did mention you’d been here a few times,


    so, I kind of guessed you were using it. You don’t seem like the


    type to explore Old Imperial dungeons, and ours is mostly renovated,


    anyways.”


    “What?” Helena frowns, taking a longer sip of her tea. “Oh,


    this is excellent, thank you.”


    “Huh, you’ve got taste, too. Mincadian Green, though I’m pretty


    sure there’s something floral in there with it. Blame Benny, they


    made it.” I offer a thin smile, then shake my head. “So. You’re


    here for my library, Helena. Why?”


    "I''m training to be a mage, and I can''t afford the


    apprenticeship fees," Helena begins, pausing to take a sip of


    tea. She wrinkles her nose, exhaling sharply. "And the Church


    won’t— ah, nevermind."


    She shakes her head, waving it off. Gods, now I just want to know,


    and here she is dangling it all just out of reach.


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    I just shrug, though. No use in pressing her, and I''d rather stay out


    of the Restoration Church''s business. I''ve had more than enough of


    their nonsense over the years.


    "And your library, Ivy, has this incredible selection. I knew


    you had a few, but, I-I-"


    “It’s ridiculous.” Helena straightens, jerking her chin up,


    setting her tea down, and jabs a finger straight at me. Her green


    eyes gleam with an inner fire, and it''s enough to keep my jaw shut.


    "Ivy Crawford, I cannot believe your family left this whole


    collection to rot! You have the entire set of Classical Magecraft in


    pristine condition. Even the banned volumes! And don''t even get me


    started on your alchemical section, by the Restoration it''s..."


    She goes, and goes, and goes, and I just watch on with a cup of tea.


    Two cups, then three, and a tray floats over to take our cooling


    teaset. Helena even hands her teacup over without so much as pausing


    for breath; good Gods this woman has a lot of air in her.


    First, there''s library maintenance, then the importance of education.


    A little ramble about banned books being foolish, but she seems more


    resigned than anything towards that part.


    I feel something primal building in my gut, pressing against the


    sheer absurdity of the situation. This meek girl is talking down to


    me, as if a Restorer has any right to do so. It''s odd, certainly, but


    the rest of me can''t help but get caught up in her passion—


    A snort plunges the room into sudden silence, and it takes a moment


    to realize that it''s coming from me. I huff, choking down a bubble of


    something, and then let it go in a fit of entirely unladylike


    giggles.


    Helena snaps her jaw shut with a click, cheeks flushing a bright red


    as she mumbles something I don''t quite catch—too busy laughing. She


    coughs, shakes her head vigorously, and then speaks again.


    "You''re laughing at me, aren''t—"


    "Gods, n-no," I wave a hand, copying the movement with my


    tail. The gall of a member of the Church telling me what to do with


    my property. She clearly didn''t know our history. "No, you''re


    fine. Just, here you are, yelling at me about not using my books.”


    I take a calming breath, finally, and spread my mouth in a broad,


    toothy smile. It''s more the smile of a beast than a human, and it''s a


    very powerful tool available to me.


    ...she flinches. Figures.


    I breathe in and out, collecting my thoughts. "People don''t


    usually have the guts for that, Helena. It''s just... refreshing, I


    don''t know. And a little funny to hear someone go all scholar on me."


    Helena smiles back unsteadily, shifting in her seat. She mumbles


    something, and I have to lean in a bit to listen.


    “...can’t just leave them all to rot, and I want to learn from


    them.”


    I glance over to the corner, where a pot of tea is busily making


    itself. A gentle probe confirms that it’s the cleaning enchantments


    again. I add a little magic to them, just in case.


    “I think they’ll be fine, don’t worry.” I smile at her again,


    then raise a finger to stall her incoming point. “But. Yes, you can


    keep visiting and using my library, sure. I’m not gonna let you


    walk those back to the Restorers, and you’ll have to ask permission


    if you want to bring anyone in here. Once I leave again, ask Benny.


    Other than that, go ahead.”


    She’s smiling broadly now, nodding along. “I—yes! Thank you.


    You don''t—this means a lot to me.”


    “I gathered,” I let my grin fade, reaching out for a teacup as


    the whole tray returns. I’m pretty impressed with it, honestly;


    cleaning enchantments aren’t exactly designed to handle teamaking.


    It’s light, sweet, and would go great with some bread.


    “Hey,” I say aloud. “There’s a bakery in town I spotted last


    night, and while I don''t do breakfast, I could go for a snack. I need


    to go down anyway for the job, so would you like to come?”


    Helena gives me an odd look before agreeing. Not sure what that’s


    about.


    <hr>


    "I''m not twelve anymore," I grumble, hefting the pack over


    one shoulder. "Benny doesn''t need to give me a day pack."


    I see Helena smiling out of the corner of my eye, the traitor.


    "At... at least the view is good?" Helena manages, audibly


    restraining a laugh. "You don''t get to see the city laid out


    like this often. Um."


    You don’t, not really. Not unless you live on the cluster of hills


    north of the city, which are largely owned by rich folk like me.


    Helena is understating it, too.


    Craumont is one of those old, pre-Collapse cities: a mess of curves,


    parks, and plazas with only the canal and the main road providing


    semblances of organization. Despite everything, it works, as all


    things Imperial do. It''s even nice to walk through—well, except


    when you get almost-mugged like I did.


    And underneath, barely tangible even to my senses, is the pulsing of


    Craumont''s ancient Imperial wards. Now those are beautiful.


    "I guess," I say finally, strolling to a stop to take in


    the view. "It''s kind of a mess, and it''s definitely a bigger one


    than when I left."


    Helena purses her lips, reaching down to fidget with her slacks. I''m


    glad she chose to keep them; it''s a much better look on her than the


    purple curtain she called a robe.


    "It''s not that bad. And it has gotten bigger! Um, did you leave


    before or after the fire?"


    I suppress a snort. The fire. My cousin’s mother had hired mages to


    ‘upgrade’ the ancient Imperial wards on the city, and the results


    were predictable. "More of an explosion, honestly, I don’t


    know what those city mages were thinking, but sure. What about it?"


    "Well, they made a new district across the tracks and gave it a


    fire brigade after that! I got here a few weeks after.” Helena


    says, standing on the tips of her toes and pointing at the somehow


    even messier sprawl past the train station. I''d seen some on my way


    in, sure, but only the vague shapes that a rainy night offered.


    "Huh," I say, for lack of better words. A slight smile


    crosses my lips. "Thanks for the history lesson."


    Helena flushes a cherry red. "Um. I thought you''d like to hear—"


    "I said thank you. I do want to hear it." I flash a broader


    grin at her, shaking my head. "At least someone cares about this


    damn city, right? I guess <i>someone </i>has to, since I sure don’t.


    Well, other than Lord Craumont.”


    "I— yes, I do." She sighs, kicking her boot against the


    cobbled path. Without another word, she starts walking away.


    I run a hand through my hair, pulling it over to one side, and start


    up after her. She seems like she could be interesting, and I’ve


    gone and insulted her home. Bleh.


    "You, ah," I start, not quite finding the words. I cough


    and try again. "Helena? I''m paying for breakfast, if you still


    want to join me."


    It takes her a moment to respond, time enough for me to catch up and


    see her confused expression.


    "Of course?" Helena says slowly, "You offered, and I


    trust you."


    She pauses, her green eyes meeting mine. There''s an inquisitive spark


    in them, the same one she got earlier when she went off on a rant.


    "Why do you ask?"


    I huff, gesturing off vaguely instead of answering. My tail flicks


    from side to side, carving a divot in the ground. “No reason.”


    She laughs at me— laughs! "So you said it was a bakery. Is it


    the one on Sharrow Avenue? Because their flatbreads are <i>amazing</i>."


    "Not too far from the constables station, right? I''m not into


    plain flatbreads. Do they have any jams?"


    "Jams? On flatbread? Why?"


    "In case they don''t have jam doughnuts, of course."


    “Jam doughnuts? Is that what’s popular in the bigger cities?”


    Time can really fly when talking about food, as it turns out.