The Great Witch of Magic Academy

Approaching the village atop their carriage, the guards at the front entrance watched them carefully, but after seeing nothing suspicious, Grimhild and everyone else managed to pass through.

Loreanzus Village was its name; it was carved into a sign of rotting oak, swaying crookedly on rusted chains. Beyond it, the village was shown with a cluster of crooked stone cottages and their chimneys exhaling thin trails of smoke into the air.

Thatch roofs sagged as the air held the sharp scent of livestock, damp wood, and roasting barley.

A cobbled path led through the center, and on either side, peasants stood ankle deep in mud, hauling sacks of grain or herding shaggy brown goats with dirty horns. Most paused when the group approached, curiously silent with suspicious stares.

A butcher leaned on his doorway with blood on his apron as a woman pulled her children closer as they passed. No one waved or smiled, it was eerie.

"They've seen trouble before." Kyto muttered, glancing at a half-burned fence from afar.

"They're still here." Jean said. "That means they're used to surviving it."

"I've been here before… though things seemed to have gotten worse over time. Vrunemir and his men terrorize villages across the Northern Empire for resources. This place must've fallen victim to it." Said Grimhild, disappointed.

At the village's center stood a tavern with a faded sign: The Buckled Hen. It looked old, but warm. Smoke drifted from its chimney as everyone faced it with relieved expressions.

"Hey, look! A tavern!" Elizabeth pointed. "It doesn't look like much, but it's the best we'll get."

"It'll do." Grimhild replied, stoic.

Stopping in the middle of the village, they all disembarked the carriage as Chroliosa carried Obsidia around her shoulder.

Grimhild lifted her hand, forming a magic circle. "Silmatz!" The four horses of the apocalypse neighed as they turned into spirit particles, slowly being absorbed into the magic circle. "Let's make our way inside."

They all nodded as Elizabeth yawned beside Kyto, soon stepping into the tavern.

Inside smelled of stew, damp wood, and something sweet, maybe cider? A fire crackled in the hearth while a few men sat at tables, hunched over their mugs.

They looked up when the group entered but didn't say anything. One of them muttered to himself and went back to drinking.

"Now this is looking lovely!" Said Fhiron, gazing at the booze. "I can drink all day without a care in the world!"

"So you're a pervert and a drunk?" Asked Chroliosa, disappointment evident in her face.

"Oi, who said I was a pervert?" Asked Fhiron, annoyed. "You bastards assume the worst when it comes to me."

The barkeeper was a broad-shouldered man with grey hairs in his beard, and a tired look in his eyes.

Grimhild stepped up to the counter.

"Two rooms. Six meals. One with pickled eggs."

"Pickled eggs? How many do you want, young lady?"

"Ten."

"Ten?! Well… alright."

The barkeeper chuckled tirelessly and reached for wooden bowls behind the counter.

Meanwhile, Jean sat down on a bench and stretched his legs, as did the others.

"I like it here. Everything is so nice and quiet."

Zarutha fluttered down beside Jean, sniffing the air.

"I smell onions! What a lovely aroma! It's way better than those pickled eggs Grimhild is obsessed with!"

Elizabeth sat down quietly, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Her eyes kept drifting to the fire as Kyto sat beside her.

He didn't speak, but his shoulder leaned just slightly closer to hers, worried about his friend.

"Hey, I never asked, but who is that you're carrying around your shoulder?" Fhiron stood next to Chroliosa with a curious expression.

"Oh?" Chroliosa faced the Elf King. "Her name is Obsidia, a Golem created by Master Grimhild. She has yet to awaken, but when she does, we must be ready."

"Eh?" Jean widened his eyes. "We must be ready? What do you mean by that?"

"Obsidia is a rebellious, sentient Golem that desires free will. She doesn't like to follow orders and it is likely she will attack."

Everyone lifted their brows in astonishment.

"And you're telling us this now??" Shouted Jean.

"Oh bloody hell! That's not something you keep to yourself!" Said Fhiron, shocked.

"Chroliosa is messing with all of you." Proclaimed Grimhild, facing the time spirit with an irritated glare. "Obsidia cannot function until I repair her properly."

"Pfft…" Chroliosa covered her mouth with a snicker. "I'm just messing around!"

"That's dirty!" Said Kyto.

"Pwa ha ha! You guys were all terrified! You should've seen the look on your faces!" Said Elizabeth, laughing hysterically.

"Kuhuhu!" Chroliosa cackled, matching Elizabeth's energy while everyone else stared with grumpy frowns.

Grimhild turned her attention away and didn't join the others at the table right away, instead, she moved to the window of the tavern, watching the village outside. Rain started pouring from up above as people were going indoors, closing their shutters.

It was a small place, worn, quiet, and maybe a little anxious from new visitors.

Behind the front table, the barkeeper stirred a pot over the fire tucked into a brick corner behind the bar. Steam rose slowly as it carried the smell of potatoes, onions, and something meaty, probably salted boar or whatever was caught last.

Once he was done with his cooking, he gave the counter a quick wipe before plating everything neatly.

"There we are!"

Picking up the bowls with three in each hand, he balanced them carefully, and brought them to the group's table without a word.

He set them down, one at a time, before finally giving a small grunt of effort and straightening up.

"Water or cider?" He asked.

"Cider!" Jean said immediately, raising a hand.

"Water…" Grimhild replied without moving away from the window.

"Cider." Said Kyto.

"I'll take a drink! Give me some ale!" Said Fhiron, smirking.

"Water!" Said both Elizabeth and Chroliosa.

The barkeeper nodded, then left again.

Elizabeth looked down at her bowl and smiled faintly.

"It smells nice… almost as good as the food my butlers made back at home."

Zarutha landed on the table and poked at a piece of carrot with his beak in Jean's bowl.

"I approve."

"Ahaha, do you want some, Zarutha?!" Jean asked, smiling.

"With pleasure, human child! Please, please, I won't mind at all!"

Grimhild remained standing by the window for a moment longer before finally walking to the table and pulling her chair out, sitting with the others.

She picked up her spoon, stirred the stew once, then took a quiet bite.

It was rich… and savory.

Fhiron and Chroliosa moved to sit down at the table, soon tasting their meals.

It was a thick stew made with salted boar meat, root vegetables, like carrots and turnips, onions, barley, and wild herbs in a dark, hearty broth. Needless to say, it was delicious.

Soon the barkeeper walked back to the table, holding a jar of eggs.

"Here you are, young lady, your ten pickled eggs!"

Grimhild lifted her brows and hastily took the jar of pickled eggs, feeling an intense craving wash over her.

She stared at the jar, almost drooling.

Everyone glanced at Grimhild with baffled visages, watching her show so much expression for something so… trivial.

"Wow, you really do love your pickled eggs… huh Grimhild?" Jean asked, laughing nervously.

"…Yes, they're among the first foods I ate when I was born." She unscrewed the top and took one of the eggs from the container, squishing it with her palm. "It brings great nostalgia feasting upon them. Would you all like to try?"

Everyone shook their heads, disgusted by the smell.

"Uhh… no thanks!" Said Elizabeth, anxiously chuckling. "I already tried pickles, remember?"

"I'll pass…" Said Fhiron, watching the witch with a jovial smile.

"Very well… more for me then." Grimhild munched on the first pickled egg, savoring its taste as the barkeeper smiled.

"Heh, I'm glad you like it, young lady. Now how about that pay? You ordered quite a bit, if you forgot."

Grimhild took out another pickled egg, stuffing it between her lips as she lifted her hand.

Using Rivonza—the witch tore open a rift in space—reaching into it to pull out a bag of coins.

"Take it, and keep the change." She muffled.

The barkeeper widened his eyes and took the bag of coins, untying its straps to peek inside.

"By the Alvamon!"

Widening his eyes, he nearly fainted.

"You're giving me… all of these Pendragon Coins? There are hundreds!"

Grimhild ignored his joyful expression and continued munching on the pickled food.

"It's more of a gift." She said, swallowing the snack. "I've been searching for pickled eggs for a while now… and this is the first time in months I've obtained them."

The barkeeper almost cried as he bowed his head, eternally grateful. "T-Thank you very much! M-My wife and kids are going to be very happy with this!" Unable to help himself, tears started falling down his cheeks. "If there's anything else I can do… please ask…" His voice cracked as he rubbed his eyes with his forearm.

Grimhild now faced him with a gentle smile.

"You've done everything already. Thank you for your service."

He bowed frantically before walking away from their table, blurry in his eyes. The barkeeper was in disbelief.

"…You have that much wealth, Grimhild?" Elizabeth stared at the witch in awe. "Over a hundred Pendragon Coins? That's so much!"

In the world of Yggdrasil, Pendragon Coins were the highest currency. Copper coins were the lowest, silver coins were below average, gold coins were the norm, and Pendragon Coins were the highest.

"You're all in for a surprise." Said Fhiron, eating a spoonful of the stew. "Grimhild is as rich as the entire Northern Empire put together! If she wanted, she could probably bloody buy this entire Northern Region!"

Everyone widened their eyes at Fhiron's comment as Grimhild made a comedic cat-face. "Nyaah… my wealth is the least of my concerns, I'd rather live in my small cabin in the woods." She muttered, expressing a different tone.

"Honestly, you could put those coins to good use!" Said Fhiron, pointing his spoon at her. "You can save lives with that amount of coin instead of wasting it on pickled foods!!"

Grimhild knew he was right, so she stuck with her comedic cat-face, closing her eyes.