NOVEL SIMPLE Spoiled Rotten
The rest of the flight to Dawnstead went by fast. I still don’t like flying, but after participating in an all-out air battle, it’s safe to say I’ve experienced the worst of it. Conversation dries up. Both of us want to focus on our thoughts until we can properly sit down, so we don’t put much pressure on filling the silence beyond a scarce comment here or there.
After another ten minutes of soaring over the many forests, farmlands, and hamlets of Arrark, I see the capital city approaching just beyond a patch of rolling green hills. Built atop the gentle river waters of Arrakia’s Rush, Dawnstead is an expansive city surrounded by a sizeable hexagonal wall that protects it from siege in times of war. At once both astonishing and perhaps overindulgent, If I had to pick a single word to describe Dawnstead, it’d definitely be-
“Shiny, isn’t it?”
“...Yeah,” Most of it, anyway.
The vast majority of the capital comprises meticulously constructed, white, opulent architecture that stretches proudly into the sky. The bustling streets are lined with prominent marble statues of ancient heroes, as well as numerous extravagant effigies honoring the Goddess Lux Ultima... and what I assume are grossly inaccurate representations of her angels. Speaking from the heart, Dawnstead is a tad gaudy for my liking. I’ll be the first to admit this is mainly down to the fact that looking upon its brilliance for too long hurts my sensitive eyes.
However, a particular part of the city stands as almost a mirrored reflection of this heavenly splendor.
In the dead center of Dawnstead lies a massive, brooding palace- Castle Mourneheart- wherein rules Duke Osbourne Gloomcrest, the Duke of Arrark. This entire structure and its dread courtyards and labyrinthine gardens are dark as dark can be. Gargoyles in the shape of dastardly demons look down upon the city from atop their winding barricades while shadowy knights adorned in abyssal armor and tattered capes guard the grounds with their lives. Hanging on both sides of the castle’s front gate are two massive, flowing banners the color of blood that depict the noble black raven of House Gloomcrest.
When viewed as a whole, Dawnstead looks like a painter started rendering two entirely different landscapes at the same time before accidentally spilling one canvas onto the other.
“So... I assume there’s a story behind the castle?” I ask Opal as we fly past the walls of Dawnstead, passing by an outgoing air caravan of Cargo Mages carrying crates of magically shrunken goods affixed to their brooms.
She laughs while bringing the broom into a steady descent. “You’ll get the chance to ask its owner soon enough, my love. Brace yourself. We’re about to land!” Opal gives me fair warning before diving further toward a mostly empty street. Before we crash, the broom begins slowing as she pulls up, putting us level to the paved ground.
We both dismount, and as Opal magically un-summons her instrument of flight, I collapse on the bricks to begin gasping with relief. I feel more than a few passersby stare at me while making their way down the street, but I don’t let it bother me. I’m too grateful beyond words that my feet are firmly rooted to the earth once again to care how odd I must look.
Opal smiles and taps her hair bun with her wand, freeing her illustrious brown curls to fall down the length of her back once more. With her hair swaying in the gentle breeze, my mature lover bends forward and extends her gloved hand to me, saying in a loving tone, “Welcome to Dawnstead, Dear. I’ll do my best to help you enjoy your stay here at the so-called Contrary Citadel.”
As I take her hand, all the built anxiety in me fades and is replaced by a familiar calm. Not from any spell, no, just the comfort that being around Opal naturally brings. As I look at her now, though, I find my thoughts drudging back to the sky battle where I felt her magical aura in a way that I’ve never experienced before.
“Is... Is something the matter?” She asks.
I sigh and dust my pants clean. “No, I’ll be alright... that was just a lot to take in, and I’m not necessarily talking about the Crystal Sage.”
My response does little to calm the concerned Mage, but she pushes it away after a sharp breath of air and clasps her hands together. “I’m sure. Luckily for us, there’s a nice little cafe I often visit whenever I’m in town. Let’s go and have ourselves some tea to help our nerves settle, shall we?”
Determined to show her my affection despite the many questions I have, I extend my arm for the older woman to latch onto. “We shall,” I say as Opal giggles and wraps her arm around mine, squishing the side of her gratuitous breast into me. The witch then leads me to the curb and whistles very loudly. She summons a nearby horse and carriage coached by a dapper-looking Orc wearing an undersized top hat and monocle with a rotund belly bulging out of his fancy dress shirt.
“Oh, no. I don’t mind walking.” I try to insist, only for Opal to shush me by placing the tip of her finger on my lips.
She correctly guesses that I didn’t want her paying for me and gives a strict warning. “Don’t even. You’re getting spoiled the next two days, and that’s that.”
“Yes, Miss Hart...” Sarcasm coats my voice, prompting the witch to roll her eyes. I don’t see any point in arguing, so I acquiesce and allow her to pay the coachman. Opal takes out a small, dark purple wallet from her bra. Once she opens it, a magical display appears, asking for a number. She scribbles an amount with her finger and then reaches inside to withdraw the requested currency. Opal goes on to give the Orc three five-pieces of gold, which must be more than the coachman asked for because he lights up and tips his little top hat at my lady.
Opal smiles as she opens up the carriage door, leading me inside. There are two sections for passengers to sit on, but we sit together on one side. Opal wraps her arm tight around my own with a warm smile. The Orc commands his noble steed to whisk us away towards Opal’s cafe of choice, and we take off at a brisk pace.
“I didn’t know you had one of those magical wallets I’ve heard so much about,” I say in an attempt to start a playful conversation.
“Strictly speaking, it’s off-brand,” She giggles warmly. “Much cheaper when you make it yourself, even if the materials required for crafting aren’t the easiest for a common Mage to get their hands on.” The implication that Opal doesn’t consider herself a common Mage isn’t lost on me, but I don’t pursue that line of questioning.
“The lucky Mage who came up with the idea must be rich by now. Gold is such an inefficient currency to carry around, and I’m sure the nobles would spend just about any amount to make it that much easier...” I recall when Opal had me carrying back her donation to the Guild and remember how poorly that went.
“Someone sounds a little envious, love...” Opal cups my cheek in her hand and narrows her eyes suggestively, “You need only ask, you know.”
Her flirtations bring a blush to my cheeks as I turn away, saying, “I can’t. You just said that making a magical wallet is a pain in the ass, and-”
The witch gets a laugh out of my stunned reaction when she pulls a second black wallet out of her bra and presses it to my hand. Of course, how silly of me. She already made me one. “Opal,” I look her in the eyes, awkwardly and blushing. “Giving me this present is one thing... but did you really have to have my name embroidered in gold? It seems a bit much.”
“Of course I did. If I didn’t, our wallets wouldn’t match!” She giggles and presents her own wallet, showing off the part embroidered with her own name. That’s a pretty cute thing for such an old woman to be so insistent about.
She shushes me once again, prompting an embarrassed sigh from me as I thank her sincerely for the gift. Opal says she’d been meaning to give me one for a while but hadn’t had a chance to make another until her last trip here. She then spends most of the carriage ride teaching me how to use the gift, which is more complex than I initially imagined. I assumed they were similar to other pocket dimension items like Opal’s own Bra of Holding, but oh, how wrong I was.
Typically, these wallets are magically linked to either a bank account or a safe rather than keeping everything in some magical dimension. This makes the wallet more like a specialized version of the teleportation mailboxes used by Mail Mages instead of a traditional magic storage device. Since we didn’t link it to my Guild’s vault before we left, for the time being, Opal deposited a second gift of 50,000G into the wallet for me to draw from. Of course, I offered to pay her back, and of course, she refused. I don’t know why I bother, beyond my stupid pride.
Opal suggests that I look into making a bank account while we’re in Dawnstead since It’d be safer than storing everything in my vault. I think that sounds like a good idea, personally, and tell her as much. There are no reputable bankers in Dewhurst these days, so this would be an excellent chance to secure a safe nest for my gold- especially since my meeting with Duke Gloomcrest has been hyped up as lucrative.
Speaking of safety, the cherry on top of this magic wallet is that it can only be used by its owner, and if lost, it will appear in the owner’s pocket after a certain amount of time has passed. I’m far from what I’d call a disorganized person, but I can definitely see how this would be useful in the event of theft.
By the time Opal runs out of things to tell me regarding the wallet and its usage, the horse pulling our carriage neighs dramatically as the coachman brings it to a halt. We both thank the Orc for his services, and I offer Opal my arm to latch onto as she leads me toward her chosen cafe. I’m excited to get some answers out of her, although some tea and a snack wouldn’t be all bad, either.
