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Alcohol Witch
Chapter 9 The Supreme Council's Orders

Chapter 9 The Supreme Council's Orders

A few weeks after the induction of Janick and Seloniel into the Order of Magic, and the knighthood that goes with it, a messenger arrives at the headquarters of the Order of Magic, at which the two resided since.

“Identify yourself!” the Order’s sentry asks the messenger arriving on a broomstick.

“I am a messenger sent from the Supreme Council” the messenger answers, scroll in hand. “It’s regarding Ladies Janick and Seloniel!”

What would the Supreme Council have to tell them specifically? Something regarding the electricity-stealing dragon's death? The sentry then fetches the two witches, only to find both of them ill, in their quarters. They both seem to have back pains, and headaches as well, perhaps resulting from their poor sleep. When the sentry arrives to their quarters inside the palace:

“So… thirsty!” Seloniel whines, in a tired voice, and her headaches mounting.

“Cast an alcohol spell too many last night?” Janick asks her, before the next shipment of magic wine leaves the palace.

“The Supreme Council has a message for you two” the sentry delivers the message to them.

“Just leave the message to… us!” Janick, also suffering from headaches, picks up the scroll and then puts it near the bed, to which she promptly returns.

“Yeah, I might have gone a little overboard with rubbing alcohol magic to heal my burns from using fire magic to forge items” Seloniel belatedly answers her colleague.

Which one is the lesser evil, getting burns from using fire magic to forge or cook items, or hangovers from the rubbing alcohol spell to cure them? Seloniel starts thinking of the price to pay for her uses of magic, especially since, as a witch, she just started learning alcohol magic. However, in doing so, her headaches intensify, causing her to return to bed.

Meanwhile, on her way to her bed, Janick wonders what the Supreme Council would want of them, that is, the king and other major overlords of the realm, want with them. However, her alcohol-addled mind doesn’t seem to function properly any more than Seloniel’s did. Especially since, unlike Seloniel, Janick was much more active in casting alcohol magic yesterday. After all, she filled several barrels of various sizes with magical wine. The Supreme Council, while it lords over us from on high, never seemed to care about the common folk, or even the goings-on at the local level. In day-to-day life, the local authorities are much more important than the Supreme Council's machinations.

But once they awaken by sunset, the two witches feel much less headaches. By then, they decide to read the Supreme Council’s message, with Seloniel being the less hung over of the two, and hence reading from the scroll.

“By order of the Supreme Council, you are hereby ordered to take office in the fiefdom of Laverton at the earliest opportunity” Seloniel reads the first line of the relatively short scroll. “You are to rebuild the village and get its iron production back up!”

Later paragraphs of the scroll give more context as to where Laverton is (on the frontier), the current situation in the fiefdom, as well as what happened to its former ruler.

So that's our final reward for killing the electricity-stealing dragon? Ruling over a distant mining village whose previous ruler was killed in a revolt caused by exorbitant tax rates, and also caused a lot of its former residents to flee? Janick is puzzled by the implications of the Supreme Council’s orders.

“Why did the Supreme Council saw fit to appoint me of all people?” Janick asks, still under the shock of the news. “They know since the electricity-stealing dragon’s death that I am an alcohol witch! Up to this point, all that we have been doing was using magic for industrious purposes!”

“Neither of us know anything about statecraft!” Seloniel points out. “As witches of common birth, we were given knighthood, and hence nobility, as an honorific”

“I guess, we can sell wares at marketplaces on our way to the fief these… Supreme Councillors assigned to us! They will pay through the roof for magic wine from me, and we will then use the money to put Laverton back on track!” Janick starts to think of the challenges she will face as a direct vassal of the Supreme Council in this village.

And then , I guess, Janick will be responsible for the money matters of the fief, since she earns far more from the sale of magical wine than I ever would from the sale of metallic implements and baking, Seloniel wracks her mind, thinking of life as a lady. However, if left unchecked, Janick will be hung over far more often than I would like. I already had a taste of what it would look like before the electricity-stealing dragon was killed, sure, the population would be happy provided we can actually run it tax-free.

“We leave for Laverton at dawn, on our flying carpet” Seloniel gives her instructions to Janick, while they make their checklist of what they need to pack for the journey.

However, the cold, hard truth is that they need to be mindful of a key reality: they must advertise on the marketplace that they can make their life anew in Laverton at every marketplace they are going to encounter on their way to that village the Supreme Council gave them in recognition for their deeds. Or else there may not even be a village anymore…

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

At dawn, awakened by a rooster, the two witches start preparing their besoms, barrels gear, and other supplies on the flying carpet on the top floor of the Order of Magic’s headquarters. Or more specifically its curtain wall. Before they leave, Janick has a question for the grandmaster of the Order, who intercepts them prior to their departure:

“My lord, I have a question for you” Janick asks him, ignoring even some of the most basic facts on the Supreme Council and the Order of Magic. “Do you sit on the Supreme Council? If not, who do you know on it?”

“The Order of Magic answers directly to the Supreme Council. Due to your Order of Magic membership, you two as well. Because you two lived almost your entire lives in your own corner, as do most people, really, I am not surprised to see you treat the Supreme Council as some distant ruling body with no real day-to-day impact, despite its role in lawmaking and public security” the grandmaster points out to them. “May you serve the Supreme Council well in this distant land”

Laden with supplies, the carpet takes off, and the pair flies in the direction of Laverton, landing to ask for directions, given their lack of familiarity with the land. And they also ask about marketplaces where they can set up shop to sell their wares (or, in Seloniel’s case, repairs are also fair game).

Upon arriving at one such marketplace, the pair wastes no time setting their stalls up, with, on one hand, Janick casting alcohol magic on her trusty puncheon to fill it with high-priced magical wine, and, on the other hand, Seloniel selling metallic implements alongside repairs to these.

“By order of the Supreme Council, this town shall supply vagrants to repopulate the frontier” Janick yells between two sales of magical wine.

“What’s in it for the vagrants?” a customer asks her before ordering magical wine.

Janick attempts to conjure an answer for the customer. “The Supreme Council decreed that frontier settlers will be tax exempt so long as they remain on the frontier”

Oh boy… if we pitch life on the frontier as being, well, tax-exempt, this means running our own businesses, and using their profits to fund the fief's operations, is the way to go, Janick feels like she painted herself into a corner by telling herself that Laverton is going to be tax-exempt. The Supreme Council will be unhappy if we lie to potential settlers, but I have no other idea than to keep selling magical wine as I am currently doing, and Seloniel to keep using fire magic to work metal or bake.

And yet, since non-magical blacksmiths are far more common than alcohol wizards selling magical alcohol, Seloniel seems to be doing more of the pitches about life on the frontier, even when her hands appear to show signs of burns because of her use of low-level fire magic.

“What does the Supreme Council plan to do on the frontier? The frontier is a rugged land, no place for witches to just go around using magic willy-nilly” a customer comments about the Supreme Council’s plan to (re-)settle the frontier.

“Apparently a mine was discovered on the frontier, but the previous lord of the mine was killed in an uprising” Seloniel answers that other customer.

Axes, pickaxes, hammers, saws, to name only a few tools I know the frontiersmen will need and hence I will need to make. However, I am aware of what it means for me: more magic, more burns on my hands, the harsh reality of using magic for metalworking sinks in, and she prays that, at some point, some priest will come along and cure the frontiersmen as needed.

But then, knowing that a mining village will need more than just miners and metal workers, she starts realizing that perhaps some vagrants might have turned to vagrancy because of a dearth of opportunity.

At the end of the day, however, Janick, having filled her puncheon of high-priced magical wine several times over using alcohol magic, falls asleep on her stall, and appears to have vomited shortly before she fell asleep. However, Seloniel appears to suffer from pains in her arms while trying to take a sleeping Janick back on the flying carpet.

By this point, Seloniel’s arm pain becomes more intense and she feels like she needs to cast the rubbing alcohol spell on her arms. Which heals her hands and arms to her satisfaction but she starts getting hiccups as she hauls the empty puncheon as well as the money.

After a night spent at a local inn, Seloniel asks a question about rubbing alcohol magic to Janick before resuming their journey.

“For a while now, you kept selling magical wine, but why is it that you didn’t sell rubbing alcohol on the market?” Seloniel asks a hung-over Janick, even though Seloniel feels like rubbing alcohol can sell.

“My head… hurts!” Janick answers, not feeling well enough to provide the real answer. “Maybe later”