All I wanted was a shortcake.

This wasn’t difficult. On the contrary, it was the easiest thing in the world. The recipe was public knowledge. All it required were eggs, butter, sugar and a click of my fingers.

No matter where I was or what I was doing, I was guaranteed to turn around to the sight of a freshly baked strawberry shortcake held up by a servant with leaves in their hair from whatever shrub they were diligently hiding in.

Still, I suppose this was my fault.

I’d skipped over the important step of clicking my fingers, after all.

As a result, all I received instead were a platter of counterfeit chouquettes, a cat meowing tauntingly somewhere in the distance and an auntie who’d clearly had enough of entertaining her nieces and nephews.

Before me, a black staff rose as high as the swindler who wielded it.

Wild flames covered its crooked form, and yet far from illuminating the dim bakery, it only blanketed it in fresh shadows. The sinister hue of the flames absorbed the light around it.

Only the grim smile of an auntie with utterly no professional standards could be seen.

“Really now?” I asked, utterly unimpressed. “Are you about to set your bakery alight? If so, I'm more than happy to observe your repentance. From a distance. While laughing.”

Clank.

The staff struck against the ground.

Lashes of black embers flew in every direction. I blew a few of them away.

“You’re not going anywhere, child.”

“Well, I'm not going to go far. Rest assured, you’ll be able to hear my laughter as well as everybody else’s. Your bakery turning into a bonfire will be a community event.”

A snort answered, matched by a flickering of dark flames.

“Do you think I care if this bakery burns?” she said with a flick of her wrist. “It is meaningless to me. With my reputation, it’d provoke nothing but a cry of sympathy. Poor Auntie Hilda. The sweet lady who manages to feed half the yobs in the kingdom. I’ve been meaning to build a better shop. Maybe I’ll even have it in Reitzlake.”

I nodded … all the while raising my hand to my lips.

“Ohohohohohoho!!”

A look of utter grief met my sweet laugh. And no wonder.

Off to the side, a certain clockwork doll was diligently gathering evidence of her crimes.

Fulfilling her duties to the letter, Coppelia was leaving no corner unturned, beaming while idly stuffing croissants, strudels and rolls into a thatched basket, her pouch and her mouth.

Naturally, I was deeply moved. That she’d volunteer to take responsibility for all the poor quality provisions in order to purposefully leave the passable ones for me was a sacrifice I could only accept.

Especially if it served to outrage the proprietor even more.

“Your eyes must be worse than mine, child,” she said, doing her best to ignore Coppelia’s casual ransacking. “Don’t you see the magic pouring forth before you? I can use it to turn your ashes into the first brick of my new store.”

“Is that so? … My, how wonderful. I’ve always been known for my charity. I’m certain my ashes would help draw a record number of customers. It certainly won’t be for your lack of talent.”

“Talent is the ability to make a living beside this rotting bridge.”

I gasped.

“Excuse me! This beautiful bridge is a feat of expert craftsmanship and a major source of taxation.”

“It is ugly. And the hour I move to Reitzlake, I’ll forget about the moss which haunts my balcony view.”

“Then you’ll be replacing moss with the sight of scoffing customers as they pass you for a rival. Frankly, you wouldn’t survive a day in the royal capital. No matter how much butter you douse your hopes in, you cannot wash away the odour of amateurism.”

The staff practically ignited as the end clanked against the floor.

Just once more and this bakery could be replaced by something useful instead.

“There’s no definition in which I’m an amateur! I’ve been baking professionally for 37 years now!”

“Well, perhaps you should have spent 5 minutes realising you’d earn more crowns plying your trade as a roadside mage. That’s apparently where your talents lie.”

A laugh of derision filled the air.

“Oh, how little you know,” said the unscrupulous auntie, her every wrinkle practically shining. “You think that just because my prices are cheap that my magic is as well. Yet I didn’t learn to conjure bouquets like those wretches at the Royal Academy. The magic I mastered was of earth and storm. And the day I chose to become a simple baker was the day the world sighed in relief. I graciously opted to walk the path of peace. Your lack of respect is encouraging me back towards the joy of destruction.”

A spark of energy lashed out from the top of her staff.

It was followed by tiny streaks of lightning arcing within the surrounding flames like a wild thunderstorm. But only for a moment. The magic soon diminished, a dim light returning to the bakery alongside a kindly smile more feigned than any pastry here.

“... But Auntie Hilda isn’t known as a soft touch for nothing,” she said, her tone warming. “So I’ll make you the best deal today, my dear. Tell me exactly how you realised there was magic in my wonderful chouquettes, and in return, I’ll tell you something just as useful in return.”

I was appalled … mostly at Coppelia’s choice to prioritise éclairs over profiteroles. One was clearly more suitable for use as a throwing weapon than the other.

“And what would that be, exactly? Hindsight regarding your poorly made life choices?”

The smiling auntie wrinkled her nose.

“No. I’ll tell you all about my nephews. And then we can both pretend this conversation never happened. After all, I’m certain you’ll be far more interested in sharing my information with the guild than bothering to stay and disturb my innocent business.”

My mouth widened in disbelief.

Why … the shamelessness with which she lied was one thing! But the fact she felt she needed to do it at all was the most disgraceful thing here! What was the point of growing wrinkles if not to unilaterally make demands of the young?

If Grandmother saw this, she’d be livid!

“I see. So your visitors in the night weren’t burglars but associates. As expected, those of ill repute flock together like mice to a common inn ceiling. I’ll therefore make you a better offer.”

“There is no better offer, child. None of the dimwits the guards capture can tell you about the horror which truly lurks in the shadows. Only I have that information.”

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

“Wonderful. So it’s either a ghoul or an overgrown badger. In that case, simply point me in the correct direction and I’ll excuse you from soap making in return.”

“Soap making … ?”

“Soap making.” I nodded with pride. “It’s the universal gift of kindness. But for you, the blackness can only be cleansed through learning proper baking techniques. Once you’ve revealed where the ruffians who incite my farmers into drinking during working hours are, I’ll allow you to enrol in a baking course until you can create a single item I deem passable. This is extremely generous.”

The auntie’s smile hardened.

“... My dear, professionalism compels you to accept my considerably more balanced offer. There is something terrifying out there in the woods. The night is darker than you can ever imagine. And I’d be willing to tell you for nothing other than a fair exchange of words.”

“I see … and are these words during or after trying to burn me like the egg wash on your brioches?”

The smile faded entirely.

Fwoooosh.

A moment later, the black staff rose high as blackened flames engulfed it once again.

“I offered you a chance,” she said, her brows a single crease. “A pity. You should listen to your elders. My shadow stretches over any simple mage you could have awoken. Do not be fooled by my humble profession, for I am the shah of nature’s most primal elements. I am the mistress who tamed that which cannot be controlled. I quelled the wrath of the world itself when I was but a child. And now I wield it for myself as a ringmaster commands a whip. Behold, child, and see the truth of my black flames and view what even the masters of the storm feared. In my staff is a blablablabla–”

Ughhhhhhh.

I rolled my eyes and despaired.

It was going to be one of those, wasn’t it? Just one drop of magic and suddenly a simple fireball wasn’t enough. It had to come with a personal backstory.

Sadly for this particular mage, shaman or circus act, my ears had long fulfilled that quota. And so as a fresh array of flames began to dance around her crooked staff, I drew Starlight Grace … and then suddenly blinked as a small knife flew towards me.

Clink.

I instinctively whacked it away.

A moment later, I simply stared at the fallen knife … as did the wide-eyed auntie who’d thrown it.

Still with her staff raised high and swirling with dark flames, she simply stood dumbfounded, her throwing arm outstretched in a pose of a failed assassin.

My mouth widened.

“Excuse me … but did you just attempt to murder me in the middle of your own opening speech?”

She blinked without response.

Nearby, Coppelia was covering her mouth, a rare look of horror upon her face. And for good reason.

Whether in the Fabled Realm of Ouzelia or the Kingdom of Tirea … traditions were respected!

This woman … how dare she use her own mundane speech in order to try to murder me!

The utter lack of chivalry! That was something I did! Not the people gloating at me!

Why … not only was it an affront to decorum utterly without precedent, but she couldn’t even do it right! That knife was so feebly thrown that even a child could have slapped it away!

“... Hm?” The auntie gave a meek cough, her back suddenly stooping as an extra decade of age suddenly weighed down upon her. “What did you say? My … My ears aren’t as good as they used to be.”

I pointed furiously at the knife.

“You … You were just boasting about your unparalleled control over the elements! … And then you threw that instead!”

The fraud followed the line of my fingertip.

Only then did she slowly lower her throwing arm.

“... Well done, child,” she said, a forced smile following a pause. “In truth, I’d hoped to not see my bakery destroyed. It holds many fond memories.”

“You were just talking about deliberately burning it down!”

“Yes, but words and actions are often different. I merely wished to instil a life lesson before you died.”

“That wasn’t a lesson! Nobody … Nobody else would do such a thing! Do you have the slightest idea how long people wait to do a cackling speech against me? That’s the greatest highlight of any schemer’s life! It’s the memory those banished to crafting soap on an island devoid of hope or warmth cling to! … How dare you insult their effort!”

“You misunderstand. I simply saw no need to expend my magic to simply do away with one surprisingly observant adventurer. But I see now it’s unwise for me to hold back.”

Fwoooosh.

Once again, the crooked staff rose amidst a sweep of black flames.

Black flames, which despite their impressive appearance, weren't quite melting the air in the same way that similarly powerful flames cast by those in scandalous undergarments did.

“Very well, child. I will show you a passing glimpse of my magic. Although in truth, even that is too much. The oceans and mountains bend to my will, enough that the masters before me each conspired to see me banished. For threatening my reputation, I will allow it to be the last sight you see–”

Suddenly, a dazzling array of light burst forth from the tip of the staff. Like a rainbow forced into a tiny box and then unleashed all at once, the darkness was dispelled to a blinding light.

I wasn’t watching.

Instead, my eyes were on the auntie’s hand as it disappeared behind the counter … only to reappear with a loaded crossbow.

Twang.

Specifically, a crossbow with strings so loose that the bolt came with all the speed of a dying snail.

It easily broke in half against Starlight Grace’s waiting edge. And yet as the two newly made pieces fell, it was all I could do to stop my jaw from striking the floor along with them.

An attack in the middle of her own threatening monologue.

Not once. But twice.

And this time with a weapon so poorly maintained that the greatest shock was that it could even work.

To say I was appalled would be wrong. I was incensed.

“Excuse me?!” I threw up my arms in utter disbelief. “You have a staff right there! It’s even glowing! Why are you trying to murder me so underhandedly?! Simply throw a fireball!”

The most ineffectual rogue I’d ever met gawped.

Her widened eyes stared between me and her crossbow, as though that it would somehow mount a defence for her. It didn’t.

I let out a gasp.

“You … You can’t, can you? … You are a double fraud! Is enchanting pieces of bread all you can do?! Is anything you claimed true?!”

I waited for the response.

Eventually, a far more subdued auntie lowered her staff. The crossbow slid from her other hand.

“I did meet a shaman once,” she said stoically.

“Is that it?!”

“No. I also watched him accidentally incinerate himself with a lightning bolt. I took his staff.”

“Can you use the staff?!”

“... I can make it channel minor illusions, yes. There are runes which perform the effect. I believe it’s to enhance the aesthetics of any spell cast.”

“Well, I certainly hope there’s a rune for summoning a mixing bowl! You’re going to need it when undertaking your baking course on Soap Island!”

The double swindler made no reply.

Instead, she did what anybody else caught in her position would do.

She pursed her lips, feigned a look of aloof pride … and then turned to flee.

Betraying her vigour, she dismissed all notions of creaky knees to sprint at a pace to outdo every brigand she was doubtless associated with. But that wasn’t all. As she dashed into her kitchen, she whacked her stolen staff against a table, then immediately tossed it high behind her.

A white glow turning to crimson filled the core of the staff as it flew towards me.

“[Spring Breeze]!”

As the staff was duly propelled back, all I heard was a brief cry of surprise before a failed mage dropped to the ground in a pose I was all too familiar with. I did the same, followed by Coppelia as she tossed away all the strudels in her basket to hide beneath that as well.

Bwooomph!

A moment later, I blew the flour away from my face as I gingerly rose.

There, somewhere in a kitchen smothered by a blanket of white, was a groaning figure whose hands were still desperately shielding her head. A large shaft of sunlight from a newly made window above highlighted all the ingredients she’d be collecting for her journey to redemption.

Creeeeaaak.

And then … a door opened behind me.

The minotaur knight crouched just enough to allow his head to peek inside. A greatsword was in his hand, making the act of squeezing himself through a doorway even more problematic than it usually was.

Eventually, he entered, stooping as low as he could.

His wide eyes looked at the trembling auntie on the floor. At the newly installed window of a partially destroyed kitchen. At the sword in my hand. And then lastly at me.

“... By any chance, are you responsible for my younger brother being sent through the air?”

I blinked.

“No … ?”

The minotaur stared at me.

After a while, his gaze returned to the state of the bakery. And then he simply nodded.

“Oh,” he said. “... Okay, then.”