107: Coffee research

Catherine’s Perspective

I sat in the rear of the cafe and watched the barista work with my mage-sight. The good thing about my bronze coloured hair was that it wasn’t immediately apparent that I was a mage, which made it much easier to blend in.

The awful girl behind the counter had spotted me, but since I was so far away she couldn’t do anything. I wasn’t here to get coffee anyway, no matter how much I wanted it. Interacting with that evil girl wasn’t worth it. Not even for coffee.

My concentration wavered as I watched Rhea smile, watched her serve an Avonsider girl with the good natured laugh I remembered. To think she’d been a vindictive, awful monster the whole time I’d known her. Shows how good I was at judging someone’s character, I guess.

I shook my head to clear it of thoughts from the past and turned back to the barista. It was the pretty blonde girl this morning. She was quick and efficient with her movements, evidently practiced at her craft. The machine was only part of the process, I was discovering.

Scratching out some more notes into my notebook, I sighed and wondered how on earth I’d get this to work. Maybe it would be better to ask Claih to make a magitech machine, rather than trying to figure out a spell-plant to do it for me. Surely, though, it couldn’t be that hard to make good coffee with magic? Maybe we could teach the buns how to make it? I should ask the blonde girl one day… assuming she hadn’t already bought into Rhea’s lies.

That was the biggest problem, unfortunately. This was all because Rhea hated Ryn and me. If she wasn’t so nasty to us, I could have just quietly lined up with everyone and gotten a coffee no problem. Instead, I was sitting here like a creepy stalker, using my x-ray vision to understand how yummy coffee was made. All so I could avoid talking to Rhea and her brainwashed friends.

God, it was scary how many people she’d turned. Like a zombie infecting a healthy population, she was spreading her transphobic views to as many people as she could. She and her friends had been talking about finding their own magic, of throwing Ryn, me, and the rest of the order out. All so they could be free of, what… a few girls who at one point looked like boys? I wonder what she’d think if she knew about Troy?

She probably didn’t even think about it. When we’d been friends, all she ever talked about was how guys were too gross to date. Each time had been like a little knife to my heart, but for some fucking stupid reason my crush on her hadn’t died. Not until I volunteered for the scouting expedition.

Turns out she hadn’t been a real friend. A real friend would have sought me out when I returned, regardless of what I looked like. A real friend would have picked up the friendship where we left off. Instead, she’d given me the cold shoulder. Ignoring me for a while, before she’d started her little campaign of hate.

It was odd, though, because I didn’t really mind. I’d found real friends out in the chaos of the ringworld beyond the mountains. Hell, even a family, of sorts. A family… and Mer.

A blush crept up my face at the thought of her, how we’d spent yesterday evening on the shores of the larger lake in Ryn’s grove. Nothing overtly romantic had happened, obviously, but it had been nice nevertheless. Mer had hit on me a ton when I was Kit, but she had cooled down somewhat now that I was Catherine.

I didn’t know what to think about her anymore. When I was Kit, I’d been reluctant to start anything. After we’d found Ryn on that trip, self reflection had begun to eat away at me, even as I failed to understand the reasons. Seeing her like that, so obviously happy with her beautiful feminine body, it’d messed with my head. Mer coming after me with all cylinders firing had made it so much worse.

Still, she was so good to me, and I was grateful for her attention. It was her kindness and patience since I’d come out of the fruit that had steadied me through everything that had happened since. I only hoped it wasn’t just me who— 

“You’re being a fucking stalker, Kit.” Rhea’s harsh, hate-filled voice caused me to jump and stare up at her where she now towered over me.

I pushed my glasses up my nose and tried to figure out what to say. Was I being a stalker? Oh, she meant stalking her.

“The only thing I’m stalking is that coffee machine,” I told her, quietly but with a hint of amusement. Everyone had always assumed that because I was quiet, I was a pushover when it came to conflict. Now that I was a small, unassuming looking nerd of a girl, that had been amplified tenfold. It appeared that Rhea had fallen into the same trap.

She gaped at me for a second, only barely concealing a sneer. “Are you calling me a thing?”

“No, I’m not,” I sighed, wishing she’d just go away. God, conflict was exhausting.

“I can’t believe you let yourself become corrupted by… by that witch,” she said, evidently unable to think of a way to twist my clipped response. “Look at you now, Kit. A parody of femininity.”

Frowning up at her, I tilted my head in curious bewilderment. I didn’t really hate my old name. It was gender neutral enough to not bother me at all. Hell, it was part of my new nickname, Kitkat. I loved that nickname so much. I guess she was trying to hurt me by using it, though?

She opened her mouth to speak again, no doubt another nasty comment, when a wailing siren began to go off. It was so loud I flinched. “What was that?” I asked.

“It’s an attack,” someone nearby answered, a guy who wore the green and blue armband of the militia. “The three chirps at the end, they mean an attack. Two for natural hazards. One is for internal.”

“Shit,” I swore, and leapt to my feet. “Bye, Rhea.”

She didn’t reply, instead spinning on her heel and rushing off. The look she’d given me was no more friendly for the new common danger we were in. How in the hell was she still fixated on me, rather than the ongoing blare of the siren? That was a lot of hate to be carrying around.

Whatever. I rushed out of the cafe like the tiny, fearful child that she thought I was, and headed for the obrec lodge. They’d know what was happening, I hoped. Mer might be there too, and I wanted to be beside her for whatever was coming.

****

The obrec lodge was a hub of frantic activity as they geared themselves up to fight. Evidently someone had decided that they were going to side with Avonside in whatever impending conflict was on the horizon.

I dashed through the cloud of busy people until I found Otho directing a bunch of rangers to get their gear ready. I noticed something strange as I came up to them. They were unpacking crates of intricate looking crossbows, while their normal bows sat abandoned in a pile against the wall.

“Otho, what’s happening?” I asked urgently, still breathing heavily from my run over here.

He glanced over to me and nodded a greeting, although it was a grim one. “Steel Ones. The outer perimeter just sent word. We have about half an hour before they arrive.”

“How many?” I asked, stunned. What the hell were Steel Ones doing all the way out here? Had Grace’s hypothesis about technology drawing them in been correct?

“At least six dozen basic units, called Crawlers, then fifteen Armourclasts, which I believe you have encountered before. Finally… There are two Kingbanes. These are massive, about the size of a small fortress,” he explained, even as he scooped up a large canvas sack from a pile and tied it to his belt. “The last time a force of this size gathered, the Empire of Anve was toppled.”

I felt all the blood drain from my face. Fifteen of the things we’d fought all those months ago? How were we meant to win this? Ryn had improved a ton as a combat mage, but she was only one girl. As for me? All my spells were based on utility and stuff. I only had a few basic combat spells and a shield spell.

“O-okay,” I said, taking a long, calming breath. “Where do I go? Where is everyone meeting?”

“Out by the gate, I think the idea is to go and meet them in the valley rather than let them take aim at the town,” he said, pulling a small orb out of the sack at his waist to inspect it. It was made of glass and wrapped in twisting wire. One side had a little protrusion that I realised was meant to be fitted into an arrow or bolt.

Pointing to the orb, I asked, “What is that?”

“It’s a fairly simple magitech arrowhead,” he explained, pulling a bolt from the quiver at his waist. “You replace the normal head with the orb, and it will explode when the glass breaks. Metal tipped bolts do nothing against the Steel Ones, so we use these instead. They’re expensive, but we keep a supply on hand during every expedition.”

I nodded, interested in the orb but not enough to keep me there asking questions. I was so lost in my anxiety over the coming battle that I forgot to say goodbye. Instead, I just hummed thoughtfully and turned away to rush out towards the gate. How were we meant to fight the incoming death robots when they were so overwhelmingly powerful? Would I even live through the day?

QuietValerie