“Who among us has experience with enchantments?” At Bernigi’s question, Dahlia, Idaea, and Lucia raised their hands; Lucia expressed her disappointment about lacking magic. “And you, Jonas? You seem to be more than powerful enough.”
“Embarrassingly, I am not versed in the craft. I was unable to use magic until my blight, and I did not study it during college either. I am capable only of offensive fire magic.”
“You have an opportunity to try now if you wish to take it. With just a hardening spell, you can split firewood with a training sword—even break bones with a chair or table leg.”
“I would be delighted to learn from you, sir.”
Dahlia was touched by the first half of the exchange, but then it got a little too dangerous for her liking. Judging by Jonas’s smile, they might simply be joking—though you could never really tell what noblemen were thinking.
“And you, Marcella? Are you familiar with enchanting?”
“No, I’m afraid all I have done is repair stone flooring, stairs, and the like.”
“I shall teach you, then.”
“Would that be all right, Lord Bernigi? I, erm, am but a commoner.”
“All who sit around this table in the workshop are equals, are we not? Besides, many with earth magic are also skilled at enchanting. When it is used to make stonelike products such as clay bricks, the results are always easy to identify.”
Thus began Bernigi’s crash course on magical enchanting. Placed atop a large plate was a smaller one, then in went the mixture before being enchanted. The small volume of the liquid limited any risks that might occur from failure. “First, gather the magic in the palm of your dominant hand, then spread it out flat. This is not offensive spellcasting, so draw only from the very surface of your internal magic, channel it into your fingertips, then bam! Drive it in!”
Skill in enchanting did not a good teacher make. The elderly man instructed based on whims, and his two pupils scrunched up their eyebrows. Still, something seemed to have clicked in Jonas as he let his magic flow out of his right arm.
“Something like this, perhaps?” Jonas held his hand over the little plate, and the mixture began sizzling. There was a brief flash, which disappeared in a shimmering red haze and left behind a mound of coarse red granules on the large plate. “Forgive me, for I have failed. It appears that I have burned it.”
“Nay, the liquid has fully transformed, not burned. I am sure you have given it your magic, and this is a great result for your first try. With repeated practice, you are sure to master it!”
Jonas squeezed his right hand shut. “Thank you very much!”
Correction: perhaps Bernigi had what it took to become a magical toolmaking instructor.
“Next is Marcella. Try to strike it hard—wham!”
“Wham. Okay!” With a shriek, a splattering of tan sprayed everywhere. Opposite Marcella was his boss, who was struck by a few grains; the pea-sized spheres rolled across the floor. “Dahlia! You okay?! Gods, I’m so sorry, I must’ve put in too much magic! Er, forgive me, Chairwoman...”
“I’m all right, don’t worry.” Obviously, she took no offense to him speaking like an old friend—that was what they were.
Bernigi was less than impressed, however. “Master Dahlia, are you familiar with Marcella on a personal level?” The nobleman must’ve been bothered by the vulgarity.
“I was friends with him long before I became chairwoman. His wife and I grew up together, and Marcella was even one of my guarantors when I founded the Rossetti Trading Company.”
“Ah, I understand now.” He looked pleased with that explanation.
As Lucia flew to fetch a broom and swept the floor, the light brown beads rolling around in the dustpan caught Dahlia’s attention. “I’m wondering if a more concentrated blast of earth magic could make finer granules...”
“Oh, are you conducting an experiment on the slime powder? I would love to get new data!”
“Madam Idaea, allow me to use my earth magic. I shall also test the grade-C powder.”
“If you could, please, Lord Bernigi!” Her periwinkle eyes shone like the midday sun—not for the former marquis but for slimes. Dahlia decided to keep that observation to herself, though.
Speaking of Dahlia, she placed a large plate before Bernigi, filled a small one with more of the mixture, and placed that one on top of the first. Then, Bernigi pointed his palm toward the stack of plates and ever so slightly cocked it to one side. Prang—it was even sharper than when Marcella had tried his hand at it earlier, and the large plate was buried under a heap of tan beads. Bernigi moved on to the grade-C slime powder. The color was a little different on his second go, ranging from tan to tawny, but the most noticeable change was the fine grain size.
“Perhaps yellow slime reacts according to the type of magic used? Or maybe it’s how much magic?” Idaea spoke to herself as she scribbled down some notes.
“Dahlia, can I touch it?”
“Yes, but as a precaution, put these gloves on first, Lucia.”
“It’s really smooth, but the bits aren’t soft at all, so I don’t think a cushion filled with this stuff would have any give to it. Don’t even get me started on what would happen if it were to rip.”
“Oh!” Smooth, fine, and hard pellets—Dahlia had owned something like that in her bedroom in Japan. “I’m sorry to pester you, Lord Bernigi, but could you use your magic the same way but double the amount?”
“’Tis but a trifle. I could make a hundred times that, should you ask me to.” Of course, a former marquis would be on a totally other level. After Dahlia refilled the plate with liquid, Bernigi enchanted it as easily as he had promised.
Dahlia thanked him, then wrapped all of the pellets in a large handkerchief and tied it off at the top. She gave the sides a squeeze, confirming her hypothesis that it would be yielding yet supportive. The toolmaker had to keep herself from giggling.
“Master Dahlia, it is not as elastic, and I fail to see how a powder would be effective for lining armor.”
“Without a very strong fabric, that pack will undoubtedly burst.” Both Jonas and Bernigi doubted its efficacy.
“I think this would be better for the Tailors’ Guild—Lucia, feel this.”
“Okay! Ooh, this is fun...” She did as instructed, and she squeezed, and squeezed, and squeezed as her lips curled upward. Despite the smile and gleaming dayflower eyes, the couturier’s expression was a little unsettling. Lucia stood up and approached Bernigi—all the while squeezing that pellet-filled handkerchief, of course. “Lord Bernigi, you said you could make a hundred times more, right? Could you please do that? Right now, if possible!”
“Erm, yes, of course.”
The elderly man seemed overwhelmed by Lucia’s fervor, and Dahlia empathized. Marcella smiled awkwardly, and Jonas had no words as he tried to remove himself from the situation. Idaea was still jotting down notes, yet to return from her own world.
“Dahliaaa, a hundred times more of the mixture, please!”
“I’m on it.” She headed to the test chamber again, and where she went, Marcella went too. This time, when she finished her task, Lucia and Bernigi were the ones who rendezvoused with them.