Godric and Renwar were on the outskirts of town. Rain trickled off the sides of mushroom capped rooftops as a heavy downpour filled drains and gutters. Renwar held an umbrella over his head but Godric embraced the rain, letting it hit his face as he chugged down a can of mead.
“Aren’t you afraid your armor’s gonna rust?”
“It’s aluminum,” he drank more, “like this can; it’s cheap. It doesn’t rust like iron or steel.”
“And that crawlers gonna bust it all up.”
“Exactly, so why wear my expensive stuff?”
“Well, it’s light and you’ll want to speed for this fight. Gives you more chances to slice at its soft spot.”
Godric crumpled the can, throwing it across the muddied streets. “I’ll desecrate it.”
“You’re an edgelord. Don’t drink your mead so fast.”
Godric ignored him. He shielded his eyes against the rain and looked up to observe a school of bulbous, striped fish that swam above them.
“The weather’s shit.”
“Do you wanna go inside somewhere?”
He didn’t protest. The two went toward the base of a short, stout building with a mauve cap. A culture of smaller, identical mushrooms grew around it and at its front hung a wooden sign: an engraving of a coffee cup.
A bell rang as they entered. The place felt warm and cozy - a distinct contrast from outside. Renwar noticed a fire burning underneath a stone hearth. The rest of the interior was made of lacquered wood and the air smelt of a delicious coffee roast. Apart from them, there were no other customers.
“I don’t want coffee.”
“Not even a little for the road? It gives us an excuse to chill here until the weather clears up.”
“I have more mead in my bag.”
“You’re a ‘fuckin addict. It isn’t even lunch yet!”
“I fight better when I’m drunk.”
“You do everything drunk. Anyways, I want coffee. Do you think you could get me some?”
“What? No, Ren.”
“What’s it to you? It’s only one silver. You get to keep everything else we get from today, remember?”
Godric groaned, apprehensive, and walked towards the front counter. Behind it stood an aproned barista waiting for him.
“Hi, what can I get for you?” Her voice was bright and bubbly.
Pangs of anxiety melted Godric. He hung his head low, staring at the uneven wood paneling on the floor. His thoughts became cluttered, his breathing constricted.
“A cup of coffee.”
“Would you like room?”
“Umm, what?”
Upon meeting her direct eye contact he froze. Her traffic-colored hair was tied up in two buns and a lace choker clung to her neck. She was adorned in chains and jewelry and underneath her apron was a revealing top that had Godric spiraling.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Despite her vibrant colors and abrasive fashion, her soft facial features limned a quality of innocence. She was fierce but sweet, and reminded him of princesses he saved in games on his terminal.
“Would you like room for cream?”
“No, thank you.” He had no idea what she meant.
“Okay, that’ll be three silvers.”
Godric unbuckled a leather pouch at his waist and grabbed a palmful of silver coins. He quickly handed her three and put another two into a tip jar.
“Hey, thank you!”
“No worries.”
She turned around to face a giant beaker and grabbed a paper cup. Steaming coffee drizzled out.
Godric saw a pair of tiny bat wings that sprouted from her waist. They looked small enough that they couldn’t support her flight, he assumed. They must’ve been vestigial - a random trait left from traces of a demon bloodline, like his third eye.
“You look strong. Are you going to the catacombs?”
“I, uhh, am.”
“That’s cool! You look like a fighter.”
“Yeah, I’m a sword guy.”
“So where’s your sword?”
He paused and considered how to respond. “I can create one, using magic.”
“You mean a soulform?”
She turned around and faced him with a curt smile. Godric looked at her, astonished.
“How do you know what that is?”
“I know lots of things. I work here, but I’m a student at the Spire.”
The Spire was the most prestigious magic academy in all of the Dragon Zone. Hidden in the badlands of Tumunzar, the only reliable way to get there was through portals, like Snowpea’s.
She handed him the coffee. “And I’m sorry, but I don’t believe you.”
“What?”
“You don’t have a soulform.”
“Why not?”
“They’re too rare. I’ve been at the Spire for over a year and I’ve only ever seen like, two. Plus, they’re an innate ability. Not magic.”
“Well how was I supposed to know you’re a magic user? I do have one.”
She cackled. “Really?”
“Really. You don’t have to believe me.”
“Alright, then, show me.”
But before Godric could respond, he felt someone tugging at him.
“Heyy, thanks for the coffee, bud. Let’s get out of here!”
An anxious Renwar escorted him away while the barista cocked her head, staring at them with a vexed look.
“Not covert, Godric. Aren’t you supposed to be laying low?”
“Relax. I didn’t show her anything.”
“It’s not me they’re after, it’s you!”
“Nothing happened.”
“Why would you even tell her about that?”
“She… asked. She knows about soulforms.”
“All the more reason not to say anything! Were you trying to impress her?”
“No!”
“It’s great you’re finally getting over your fear of talking to girls, but what if she’s a spy?!”
“She’s not a spy, Ren!”
Then, an abrupt crackle came from behind them. They turned around and saw the barista brandishing a wand, the tip of which expelled sparks. She conjured a crystal blade that hovered midair, and with a quick thrust of her wand, it flew toward them.
All in one motion, Godric pulled a pulsating stream of light from his chest and cracked it like a whip. As he did, it straightened and solidified in his hand, shattering the crystal into pieces.
The light dissipated and revealed a wicked longsword. Its double-edged blade was matte white, like bone, and had several spiny edges. The crossguard and pommel looked bizarre and were made of an organic material that looked like coiling tree roots.
“So you do have one…” the barista cooed. She pursed her lips and pressed the tip of her wand against her cheek.
“You mad bitch!” retorted Renwar.
“Ah, careful. You don’t want to upset me.”
“You're crazy, attacking us in the middle of a coffee shop?!”
“This is my shop, and I’ll do what I please.” She turned to face Godric. “Oh, don’t look so concerned. I had to know if you were the real deal!”
“And what’s it to you?” Said Godric, gritting his teeth.
“A soulform is an extension of one’s soul. Your’s is so pretty! It almost looks like you, in an odd way. Are you gonna stab me with it?”
“And are you with the Order?”
“The Order?”
“The Order of Cinder! Are you here to get me?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I said I was a student at the Spire and I merely had an academic inquiry.”
“Well, you can fuck right off. I don’t care about your dumb school and I’m not going to humor you.”
“Is that soo…”
Godric bent his knees. He positioned his feet shoulder-width apart from one another and held his sword at a 45 degree angle, ready for any attacks.
But Renwar jumped between them. He unholstered his crossbow, which was already loaded, and fired a shot at her.
The barista looked startled and jerked her wand through the air in a horizontal line. ~Bamf! She disappeared in a puff of smoke.
Godric let go of his sword and it reverted back into a stream of light that went into his chest. Renwar let out an exasperated sigh.
“Still don’t think she’s a spy?!”
“I don’t know what she is! Let’s get out of here before we find out. And take your damned coffee.”
Renwar snatched it from him and went up to the tip jar, shoveling coins in his pockets as he took a sip.
“Eww, gross! There’s no cream in this. Don’t you know anything about coffee?”