“Master, master! You’re so good with woodworking.” Gillibert observed.

It was the very next morning after Alard’s visit. The mage was sitting at his dinner table with a few tools around, carving a cup on a block of wood. It was early morning, and he had a terrible night of sleep, mostly due to Alard’s quest.

“I’m barely doing the minimum.” he replied, blowing away wood chips. “I’m still incapable of doing the hard part of the work with my own hands.”

He levitated the cup and, using magic, started forcing the wood to carve itself, molding it like clay and making some intricate and pretty details around it. He repeated the process in the middle section of the cup and then landed it on the table.

Grabbing a thick and ill-smelling mixture of tree sap he produced and a piece of cloth, he started gently applying it around the newly done wood cup. When the process was finished, the object looked like it was wet and sticky.

“Why did it turn shiny?” Gillibert asked, looking at a bit confused.

“Is a mixture to protect the wood, it's called a varnish. After it dries, it will look glossy.” Isemberd explained.

He took another small block of wood.

“Master” the owlet called, walking a bit, “Did you make that thing on our dinner table? To make it pretty on the sides of it?”

There were some very well-made details carved on the side of their table. Intricate designs on the wood, made with a very delicate technique, that represented leaves and branches.

“It wasn’t me. But that is an outstanding work.” he replied, pushing his chair a little so he could touch the wood. “It was either made by a very skillful and dedicated carpenter… or by a mage.”

He could learn the truth if he wanted, but decided not to. The dinner table was there for them, and it served its purpose well, and that was enough for him.

“Why don’t you try to make it without magic, master?” Gillibert suggested, looking excited to Isemberd.

The mage left out an annoyed sound.

“I’ve never had the chance to learn. Let’s just say I’m just now starting to explore my options a little.”

He stopped and glanced at his own hands.

“I feel like learning, but…”

Still gazing at his palms, he stood silent, and the owlet didn’t insist on the topic, feeling his discomfort. Lately, after so many surprises and visits, they were getting better at understanding each other without words, a very necessary skill if they wanted to keep their disguise.

Gillibert flew to his shoulder.

“I bet you’re going to be really, really good at it.”

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Isemberd raised an eyebrow while focusing his eyes on examining the wood block.

“Why did you say that?”

“The house is looking prettier and nicer every day. Master is a very dedicated person, you only do things at your own pace.” The owl said, very serious.

Isemberd nodded. That morning, Gillibert was sounding way more serious and wiser than usual.

“I disagree.” He retorted. “But thank you.”

He took the wooden block and his carving tools again and slowly started to work on a new cup.

“What about a tea cup?” Gillibert asked, taking two cute steps on his shoulder to look at him. “We’re having more and more guests lately!”

“Since when you’re so sharp again?” Isemberd mumbled. “Indeed, a tea cup is a nice option.”

Gillibert stood there watching his guardian carve the wood slowly, sometimes answering and sometimes ignoring his unending chitchat. Soon, that glimpse of wisdom disappeared from the owlet’s demeanor again, and he started sounding like a cheerful child once more.

Hours passed by, and the wood block was turning into a simple tea cup, with a very twisted handle and a bumpy interior. Isemberd sighed as he levitated the object to look at it.

“It looks… erm… you know, almost good, master!”

He shook his head.

“This looks awful. I should simply buy a new one, or fix this with magic…”

Gillibert waved his wings.

“But! But! Isn’t that cheating?”

The mage frowned.

“Why would it be?”

“Master’s point was to carve a tea cup, right?”

Isemberd agreed.

“Yes, and I did, but I heavily dislike the result. Maybe next time…”

Gillibert hopped around the floating tea cup.

“Can I have it?”

Isemberd hesitated. It was the very first time Gillibert asked that sort of thing.

“Why’s that?”

It tilted its little head, as if it was obvious.

“It was the very first tea cup master carved with his own hands! It is special, you know!?”

“Gillibert…”

The owlet gazed at him, sincere and with chest puffed out. The mage sighed, defeated, and nodded.

“All right. But is too big for you.” before the owlet could answer back he himself added: “But I guess you’ll… grow up… right…?”

He grabbed the chisel again and gazed at the object, lost in conflicting thoughts about the situation. He took a peak at the window. The noon was moving on, and he still had a lot of work to do.

“Can you do me a favor?”

“Master! What a dumb question! Of course!”

“I’m having that feeling again. Can you fly around the groove and take a look around for me?”

The owl opened its wings, excited.

“Yes! I’ll be right back, master!”

Isemberd never stopped being amazed at how fast and powerfully Gillibert could jump into flight without making too much noise. It was clearly a supernatural sign, but he still couldn’t properly point out the source of all of that might yet. Neither the source nor the price for having it, nor its consequences.

Alone in his kitchen again, he glanced at the tea cup. With one gesture, the whole house closed itself. Another one and the wood started carving itself again, while the gray eyes of the mage were lost in his deep thoughts on the future.

Slowly the teacup turned into a perfect replica of the porcelain black one he liked to use, a gift from Alard. He grabbed it and carved a big G on the outside of it’s base. He had a lot to think about, but for now, he would leave his mind linger on a pretty teacup made of wood.

One more or less carved by his own hands.