“So. He’s going to talk to a church girl? Nasty business, that can get. It ruins a few nobles every few years or so in the Imperial Capital,” Raehel said as she watched Archmund disappear into the church with Sister Catherine. Once the door had swung shut between them, she kicked the carriage door open and stretched her arms high above her head, her orange hair spiraling wildly in the morning sun.

  “Um,” Mary said, suddenly unsure of how to react now that Archmund was gone, and she was trapped with an eccentric witch.

  “I’m not going to bother them, I assume he left us out here for a reason,” Raehel said. “I know how boring towns like this can be and what passes for a scandal out here. I’m not stupid — I’m a genius, remember?”

  Mary clambered out of the carriage after her. She had a quick conversation with the carriage driver, who assured her he wouldn’t be going anywhere, and kept a close eye on Raehel as she started poking around the town square.

  “Wow, this place really is the sticks,” Raehel said. “You’ve got wood buildings, and wood houses, and wood shacks. Wow.”

  “…Yes? Even the Manor is mostly wood.”

  Mary looked around nervously, but it seemed that while they were an unordinary sight, they weren’t an extraordinary one. The adults were too busy going about their day, setting up their market stalls and haggling over morning groceries, while the few children around focused on the church door, where Archmund had entered.

  “In the Imperial City, everything is made of stone and marble. They stay warm in the winter, and there are Gem Arrays to keep things cool in the summer. Every few feet, there’s an Enchantment that helps keep the whole place running.”

  “How does that… where does the power come from?” Mary said. She had her Gem fan, and she’d illicitly practiced with Archmund’s Ruby of Energy, and both had been utterly exhausting. A whole city running on Gem magic was unimaginable.

  Raehel’s mouth fell open as she gave Mary a sideways glance. “Frogs. Magic frogs. Magic frogs that are constantly breeding, whose spawn die as tadpoles to supply the city with the necessary life force.”

  It was either a ridiculous lie or a truth too ridiculous to be one, and Mary was not in the business of asking questions that would get her killed for no gain.

  “I can see why he chose you for Gemgear,” Raehel said. “You’re not an idiot.”

  “Thank you?”

  “No, I’m serious,” Raehel said. She plucked one of the draying leaves from a low-lying branch, chewed it gingerly in her mouth, then spat it out. Mary winced.

  “Blech. Tastes like nothing, not even poison,” Raehel said. “You hear a whole bunch of horror stories about maids or manservants being trapped into lifelong bondage because they were given Gemgear, right? Their fealty ends up bound up with their local lord, and their only hope of escape is getting strong enough to be Heroes who nominally serve the Empire but practically get to do whatever they want so long as it’s not illegal. But that doesn’t happen, because most of the Gemgear that the Empire lets the gentry distribute freely are useless trinkets. Stuff that nobody can start climbing the ladder with, because if the gentry had real weapons they could start making private armies.”

  She nodded at Mary. “Let me see yours.”

  Mary reluctantly pulled out her fan.

  “Right. This,” Raehel said. “What’s a hand fan even good for?”

  Mary genuinely had no idea what she was getting at.

  “A sword’s good for slicing. A knife’s good for cutting. A bow’s good for shooting. What’s a fan good for?”

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “For… making wind? And for ladies to hide their mouths when they gossip?” Mary said. She wasn’t sure about that one — Granavale Manor had never hosted a grand ball in her lifetime, or indeed any major social gatherings, due to the Crylaxan Plague — but it happened in many of the books she asked Archmund to read to her. Hopefully soon she’d be able to read those own her own. There always seemed to be a few bits he skipped over, when the lords and ladies were getting real familiar with each other.

  “Exactly!” Raehel said. “How are you going to kill Monsters and get Gemgear on your own like that? You won’t. You’d be reliant on the charity of others. So it’s a serious decision, giving someone a piece of Gemgear. It means either he trusts you deeply or he’s an evil, manipulative piece of shit.”

  “Archmund wouldn’t be—”

  “Right! Exactly!” Raehel said. “I don’t know exactly why he gave you that thing but I’m so relieved there’s some kind of bond of mutual trust here.”

  “Honestly, I think it was an accident,” Mary said. She couldn’t reveal that he’d messed up and this was compensation, or a way of hiding that mistake, and that she’d run towards the offer instead of shying away from it. Whenever she came into town, she turned a blind eye to the fraying shabbiness of the townspeoples’ clothes and the inflammation of their skin and the gauntness of their cheeks. Was it so wrong, to want three meals a day and properly-fitting clothing and large bathtubs with soap that smelled nice?

  “Well, not my business,” Raehel said, which was odd because she’d spent the past day or so making Mary’s magical prowess all her business. “Have you used that thing yet?”

  Mary recalled when she’d create a vortex, sucking all the air out of a circle of fire, nearly suffocating Archmund in the process. “A bit.”

  “Can you show me?”

  “Show you? How?”

  “What do you use a fan for? Cool me down.”

  Feeling rather foolish, Mary flapped open the fan. Even the ribs and leaves of the fan were made out of translucent green crystal. She gave it a few flaps back and forth, aiming it roughly at Raehel. She didn’t feel anything of the magic circuit between her body, soul, and the fan that Raehel had described in their casual lessons the day before. She yawned.

  An autumn wind blew past Raehel, carrying orange and brown leaves that matched her hair. She pulled her purple robes tight to resist the wind and held on to her hat. A sign in the market square fell down. A basket of fruits tumbled over.

  Raehel looked at her in disbelief. “How long have you been practicing with that, did you say?”

  “Not too long.”

  She didn’t mention that Archmund had asked her to spend at least two months pouring her magic into one of his Rubies, which had grown her capacity. Because that would have been illegal.

  “Alright. Because that was a lot more power than I’d expect.”

  Raehel walked up to her and studied her closely. Mary didn’t like it when she did this, especially when the older girl prodded at her arm.

  “A fan’s purpose,” Raehel said, repeating Mary’s earlier words, “is making wind and hiding gossip. I wonder.”

  “Is that… is this good?”

  Raehel chuckled. “Look, if the boss is going to spend all his time running around talking to people, we can find a chance to train you up properly. You’ve been basically groping around in the dark when it comes to power, and magic, and all that — nobody ever wants to train the help to actually, y’know, be good at things — but he wanted you to sit in on the lessons. I’ll teach you the tricks on how to use magic for real, so if you ever want out, you can.”

  “Mary!” Archmund’s voice came ringing through the square.

  “As nice as he is, a boss is still a boss, isn’t he?” Raehel called just quiet enough for only her to hear, as Mary briskly walked over to meet him.

  “Young master,” Mary said, bowing slightly. “Have you finished your preparations with the Church.”

  “Yes, it’s the same as it is every year, I presume,” Archmund said with his usual wholly unearned confidence. “You brought a notebook, right?”

  Mary nodded. She hoped he wouldn’t ask her to take notes. While she could read, her handwriting was still horrid. Her shorthand was illegible to anyone but her.

  Which, knowing him, was what he wanted.

  “We’re going to talk with a lot of craftsmen. Whenever they mention numbers, could you write them down?”

  Now that she could do, and easily. Archmund turned to Raehel.

  “Would you like to come with us? I doubt it’ll be interesting at all to you, but—”

  “No, I’ll come, I love seeing how the poor manage to be happy,” Raehel said. “It’s really inspiring!”

  Archmund looked vaguely disquieted by that. “Alright. Please don’t talk more than you have to. If you see anyone with higher magic potential than normal, let me know afterwards, I guess.”

  “Oh, what a fun idea.”

  This whole next bit would be perfunctory. Nothing ever changed in Granavale County. Every Harvest Festival was just like the last. They would talk with the townspeople and alleviate their concerns and ensure the Harvest Festival went well, and then they would all go back to their homes and live their normal lives, as different as all of them were.

  “Come on,” Archmund said, as if he’d heard her. “This is actually important.”