Near the back of the bookstore building, the room that used to be the storage room beside the stables was now completely repurposed to become a kitchen. On the opposite corner of the door, there was a stone stove with a smoke escape tube above. Right beside it, a wooden table occupied the rest of the wall, while on the other side of the stove at the adjacent wall laid another long table and a water tank. Closer to the door, the last wall was hidden behind wooden shelves that served to store food.

Anne had just finished the drawing of the last array on the stone grinder on top of the long table. Similar shining symbols could also be seen on the stove and the wall over the water tank. Technically, auromancy didn’t fall within the abilities of a bookmancer, but such limitations were just details in front of her creativity and resourcefulness.

Of course, her master would have been against using other arts through her bookmancy since ‘All pages and chapters of the grimoire should work in harmony towards the specialization of the bookmancer’. However, her song was unique and only she could be the compositor of its lyrics. Moreover, she was more inclined to ‘defiance’ than ‘harmony’, so she would rather stretch her craft as long it could get without breaking.

Auromancy had been one of her most subversive ‘stretches’. The magic art used a combination of ancient symbols popularly known as ‘arrays’ to control arcana essence into enchanting objects. The enchantment could be used for a variety of things, from simply locking/unlocking doors to creating golems. Most magical artifacts were crafted through the means of auromancy. Spatial bags, enchanted weapons and armory, magic locks, and magic shields were just a few examples of the craft.

However, the ‘trick’ that allowed her to use arrays without crippling her own craft was an adaptation of two bookmancy techniques instead of proper auromancy. The idea had appeared when she was studying the concepts of crafting training books and enthons, which were techniques still beyond her crafting abilities. She could repair the books but was still a few steps short of crafting them.

Yet, the obstinate bookmancer had used the unpracticed theory to create a whole new technique which she named craft-mirroring. As balance demanded, the technique would come at a cost, the mirrored craft would be limited by the complexity and could only be used with high comprehension.

The ‘enchantments’ she placed on the grinder would rotate the stones and replace the need for manual grinding. Though it wouldn’t save a lot of time, it would reduce the effort of the task. Now, the usefulness of the enchantments of the stove was at a completely higher level. Unfortunately, she was missing a few fire essence materials to put to use.

Anne took a few steps back and observed the new kitchen with a prideful expression. It would take some time but the building was becoming each day more to her liking. The bookmancer stopped daydreaming and proceed with her next chore, preparing some Gods’ blessed and well-deserved food.

She got the basket of wheat and started pouring the grains into the central opening of the grinder while activating the arrays. The symbols carved on the top stone glowed before enchanting the piece to rotate. The grains that got between the fixed and moving stone pieces were ground before transforming into rough flour that fell from the borders of the stones into the bowl below. The task was strangely satisfying, even though it was only the first step of the preparation. Unfortunately, her relaxing time was suddenly interrupted by a quarreling duo.

“Mistress, please tell this insufferable tree that she should stop putting plants all around the building. The bookstore has strictly environment requirements, and she doesn’t understand the concept of humidity.” The familiar pleaded as he eyed the supposed treefolk with disdain.

Anne had already prepared a speech to scold and send them away, but she was stroked with a moment of confusion, the question did hold some merit. However, before she could ponder over it, Spring moved towards the grinder and ‘said’ excited:

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“Spring do it?” She was getting better at sounding the words.

“Yes…” The bookmancer was surprised for a moment, but her smile quickly caught up with the situation. Spring loved being useful, she couldn’t have asked for better help.

“Spring, you need to pour the grains of the basket…” Anne tried to remind her but was interrupted by another shocking event.

Both the mistress and the familiar stared awed at Spring calmly dropping golden grains which grew magically from stalks on her arm. ‘Can she do that?’, Anne thought. If she could do it with the soul tea, it shouldn’t be so far-fetched to repeat it with other plants, then her ‘soul’ was only bound to the tea sapling. Countless questions and possible explanations passed through Anne’s mind, but Spring continued to grind the golden grains unconcerned about anything.

“I’m not an expert on treefolk, but that isn’t something they should be able to do…” The storeowner thought out loud. The cheerful Spring suddenly stopped the chore to stare confused at her mistress. She still couldn’t completely understand complex sentences but she got the general meaning of them.

“Spring, not treefolk?” The blessed being voiced a whistling sound while pointing the thin viney fingers to herself. There was a hint of disappointment and even despair to the question, which made Anne worry about Spring’s thoughts. Being so young and emotionally immature, Spring should have relied on the few concepts that explained her existence and also made her distinct to create some self-perception.

“Not a common treefolk. You’re… a special treefolk.” The bookmancer quickly explained, leaving some leeway to be truthful without hurting the not-quite-treefolk’s feelings.

“Special…” Something akin to a smile stretched in the former homunculus’ fibrous mouth. In her mind, special always accompanied good things.

Anne ignored Spring’s moment of revelry and got some of the newly ground golden grain. The rough flour felt unreasonably soft and refreshing to the touch. It exhaled a fragrance of flower and greenery.

“It’s nature essence!” She exalted and turned to the smiling Spring.

“Spring, how much of this grain can you produce?” She asked while trying to hide her expectations. Anne didn’t want to pressure the young girl.

Spring seemed to be pondering how to answer, but instead of trying to think of a word to quantify it, she willed the rest of the grains that she could produce directly into the grinder. The bookmancer quickly understood her meaning and could only force her face to hide the disappointment. It was better than nothing, but still too little. However, a shining thought appeared on Anne’s mind.

“Spring, can you plant a sapling of the golden wheat in the backyard?” The bookmancer asked slowly, trying to find the right words for it.

The blessed servant nodded enthusiastically and they left to test the idea. Their current garden had been expanded and was heroically resisting the cold winds of the approaching winter due to the Spring’s care and possible blessing. Of course, the wheat had already been harvested, so only the soul tea tree, the growing pink apple tree, the sunflower, and a few greens still remained from her initial seeds.

However, the once humble and frail garden now extended all the way to the well with the addition of half a dozen types of flowers. A few days after transforming, Spring had started recovering flowers from the seemingly withered weeds around the bookstore. And whatever blessing the servant developed had been maintaining the garden ‘flowerful’ through the rigorous autumn ending. The treefolk-like girl shouldn’t be able to maintain the garden through winter, though unexpected had become the standard for her.

Spring went around the flowers and small trees as if she was dancing, probably looking for an appropriate place to plant the golden wheat. Anne knew of the existence of such arrangements, but it was something only herbmancers or anthomancers mastered.

She stopped in an empty plot past the well and sat cross-vined on the ground. After a good ten minutes, Spring extended her arm to the ground revealing a light yellow sapling that had grown from her palm. Anne was expecting the girl to pluck the sapling before burying it, but she just stayed there, arm stretched, seemingly whispering something and touching the sapling delicately with her other hand. It looked as if she was appeasing a young child. Then, against all of Anne’s expectations, the sapling detached itself from Spring’s palm and ‘walked’ down the palm before sending its small roots into the ground.

Anne stared at the sky and drew a deep breath. It seems that endless surprises would just keep going on her way. The life of a bookmancer was so interesting, not boring at all.