The older side of Creave was the epitome of disorganized beauty. Narrow cobblestone streets and uneven steps wound around brick houses and shops that claimed their spots wherever they liked, yet managed to fit together like a perfect puzzle. A stretch of clear sky was visible between red roofs. A canal ran through the center of town, sporting riverside merchants on boats. Blossom trees lined the waterside. In a few months’ time, the ground would be covered in a carpet of petals. Somewhere around the corner, a bard regaled the afternoon with his flute. The sound of flowing water, the rustle of leaves, and the peaceful hustle of the townsfolk blended like a seamless, harmonious melody.

The magic woven within the lands of Ilias threaded themselves in every fiber of Creave, rolling through the town and across its countryside, manifesting as unrestrained meadows and wildflowers, and ending in lush hills. It ran through the blood of the people, thriving with diversity, manifesting naturally through their fingertips.

Rin inhaled the familiar scent of Creave: fresh apples, roasted chestnuts, freshly-baked bread. She felt at home, like she had known the place all her life just like the warm patchwork blanket her grandmother had made for her when she was a child.

When she first set foot here three years ago, it had been a breezy afternoon on a late spring day. The vast countryside greeted her with a dozen colors. Sunlight drenched the meadows and wildflowers bobbed in the wind, flashing their gold petals among the bright green blades of grass. The rustling of the leaves, the gurgling of water from the nearby brook, birds chirping loud and clear –

Everything had sparkled. Welcoming her.

At that moment, she felt that everything was alive. Not because of magic, but because it just was.

*

Shortbread Factory was a unique building, previously an old studio with a loft and remodeled into a living space. Its name had been coined by Edwin over tea on a random afternoon – to Mirelle’s delight and Cnaris’ disapproval.

The dining room was filled with the comforting scent of roasted chicken pie Mirelle made for dinner. Two people glowered at each other over a pot of mushroom soup on the table.

“I am not taking any extra classes,” Rin said, enunciating each word.

“Tell that to your father.” Cnaris lifted his cup of tea and sniffed, appreciating the aroma.

“How about telling him to mind his own business?”

“How about going along with what he says for once?”

Rin’s mentor and landlord, Cnaris Salinas, was a man in his early thirties. He was once a professional assassin, before he decided to quit and start working for the Council for reasons he refused to reveal, and Rin had no interest in finding out.

He lived on blunt sarcasm and had a pure hate relationship with dirt and untidiness, so he was forever clean-shaven and wore clothes that had been ironed. He had only two kinds of expressions, differentiated by a small frown. One was his usual poker face; another was when he discovered a giant bag of dust bunnies hiding at the back of his kitchen cupboard.

This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

Rin inhaled, trying to remain as calm as she could. “Why does he think I need extra classes? I’m doing fine!”

“He thinks you’ve been going on too many assignments and falling behind in studies,” Cnaris said in a flat tone that matched his expression. “I think he got a hold of your lackluster midterms.”

Unbelievable. “That was just once -” She clenched her fists, red rising in her face, realizing how childish she sounded. “What makes him think he can make decisions for me?”

When he hasn’t given a damn about his daughter for years.

“He said if you object, you should inform him of your reasons personally,” Cnaris said, still wearing the same bored expression. “I’m done becoming his mouthpiece.”

Comprehension dawned on Rin. “Oh, so he just wanted me to show up.” She slammed her hands on the table. The glassware rattled. “I’m not going!”

Cnaris tutted. “If they break, I’ll deduct the damage from your pay – plus interest.”

“All right, all right, let’s all settle down.” Mirelle came out of the kitchen and set the freshly baked chicken pie in front of them. Serving slices on plates, she said, “Why don’t you give Rin a break?”

Mirelle, housekeeper and peacemaker, proudly accepted her role as the motherly figure who watched Rin grow through her rebellious teenage years. She was the only other inhabitant of the factory warehouse that Cnaris claimed as his house and office, and was undeniably the biggest contributor to the household. She could clean the dirtiest of rooms with a wave of hand, but she preferred manual labor. Magic was meant to facilitate, not to make people lazy.

Sparkling glassware, spotless furniture, timely meals, hot tea, and the best shortbread in town. Without her, Cnaris and Rin would be living like beggars, like how it had been before they met her. Most importantly, her words broke fights between the two hotheads eighty percent of the time. Ten percent of the time, she was indifferent. The other ten percent involved Rin’s father.

“I’m not going anywhere tonight or the night after,” Rin declared. “The assignment was tiring; I need rest.”

“You don’t have a say in this. After all, you’re just a freeloader.”

“You take part of my wages for each assignment,” Rin said, appalled.

“Yeah.” Cnaris rolled his eyes. “As if that’s enough to raise a stubborn mule and deal with her father, who calls every other day. Don’t you think I deserve more credit?”

“Cnaris!” Mirelle admonished.

Rin set her cup down with a thunk.

“I knew you would object to the extra classes, so I prepared an alternative.” Cnaris held up a slip of paper between his fingers.

Rin snatched it from him and opened it. Inside were the details of a new assignment due in the next twenty-four hours. She stared at it, incredulous. “Am I a slave now?”

“Rin just came back from her last assignment. Aren’t you being too hard on her?” Mirelle frowned, handing out the plates.

“I think it’s a perfect excuse. I do need to give your father an explanation,” Cnaris said with a hint of smugness. “Tomorrow night, at that location.”

Great, she thought, skimming through the words written on the paper. It sounded like a job for more than one person. Neither Kazu nor Edwin were back.

Cnaris sipped on his soup. “I’m also giving you a chance to take out your anger.”

Her mentor sure loved being vague.

“Don’t push yourself, Rin. If you don’t want to do it, just say so.” Mirelle rolled up her sleeves. “I’ll fight him for it.”

That made her dissent diminish ever so slightly. But she had already made up her mind.