Chapter 9
Copyright J.B. Norman
The group gets an early start the next morning, and the walls of Westfort come into view after a few hours of travelling. Lucia feels a sense of relief that they’ve made it to Westfort without any further incidents involving Alveric von Strom and his bandits. Until her furry ears twitch at the sound of a branch snapping and she feels with a deep dread that it’s no longer going to be a good day.
“Uh oh,” she mutters to herself.
“Hello there,” a familiar voice says.
Lucia groans.
“You again?” Apolline mutters, staring down Alveric von Strom for the third time. Her usual diplomatic manner has given way to a rare moment of undisguised contempt.
“Well, yes,” Alveric von Strom says. “We have unfinished business with you lot, I’m afraid.”
“But we already beat you bandits!” Lucia notes.
“I am a. High. Way. Man,” Alveric protests indignantly. He sighs. “Honestly, I just wanted to smash that cart. But you’ve left me with no choice but to smash you along with it.”
“Miss Celeste told me to get this cart safely to Westfort,” Roland says. “And what kind of alchemist am I if I can’t help out a fellow alchemist?”
“You?” Alveric asks, staring at Roland with his mouth agape. “You’re an alchemist?”
“I know, right?” Lucia exclaims.
“But I’m an alchemist!” Alveric exclaims. “You’re a disgrace to our profession!”
“I thought you were a highwayman,” Roland notes.
“Yes, yes. A man can be more than one thing. But you? You look like a shaved mountain ape,” Alveric continues. “Do you really have the brain power for alchemy? Or even the opposable thumbs?”
Lucia gasps. That is going too far.
“Hey!” she exclaims. “Roland may be an idiot —”
“Hey!” Roland interjects.
“— but he’s still a part of our team!”
“Aww,” Roland says happily, turning towards Lucia and making a little heart with his hands.
“Eww,” Lucia replies.
“You stupid little rabble of stupid little misfits,” Alveric growls. “That’s it. No more games.” He reaches for his sword.
“Stupid is as stupid does, stupid,” Roland replies.
“Wait. What?”
Alveric blinks in confusion at Roland, tripped up by one too many stupid-s.
Roland takes a step forward. “Apolline, Petra — you take the others. I’ve got this guy. Lucia, look after Alda.”
Lucia moves beside Alda. They watch as Apolline and Petra go left, going after the bandits in a blur of huge blue fists and blasts of magic. Roland goes right, stalking towards Alveric. He raises his fist.
“Alchemy punch!”
“Eep,” Alveric says, ducking the oncoming fist.
Roland’s fist goes wide, and though he misses his intended target he still finds a target. His fist collides with one of the crates in their cart and smashes its side to splinters.
“Ow,” he mutters, prying his hand out of the smashed crate and shaking it out.
This causes a rain of ground-up leaves to fall over himself and his companions.
“Oh man!” he groans. “Miss Celeste isn’t going to be happy about this.”
Lucia desperately flails her arms, trying to beat away the green cloud enveloping her.
“Oh no,” she mutters as the familiar minty smell fills her nostrils.
Lucia’s next clear memory is Apolline draping a blanket over her.
“How are you feeling?” the Aurorean sorceress asks.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Lucia mutters. Her head hurts. Her tongue is dry. Her eyes are itchy. Her ears and tail are twitching restlessly. And she can’t remember most of the last few hours.
She glowers at Roland.
“Why did you think delivering a shipment of catnip was a good idea?” she exclaims at the muscular alchemist. “I am a cat!”
Roland raises his hands defensively. “What? Catnip has perfectly legitimate medicinal uses,” he protests. “Alchemists and doctors use it all time!”
“You could have at least warned me,” Lucia continues, her ears drooping. “Maybe that way, I could have managed not to make a fool of myself.”
“It’s not like I knew they were going to try to attack us again,” Roland continues.
“You’re the one who smashed the crate open!” Lucia counters.
“Only because he dodged my punch!”
“Only because you’re a big, clumsy idiot!” Lucia declares.
“Now, now,” Apolline interjects. “Let’s not fight. We’re all on the same side here. You said so yourself, Lucia.”
“Yeah. Well, I guess I was wrong,” Lucia mutters.
“Lucia,” Apolline scolds. “Roland is right. This was all an accident.”
“Yeah!” Roland says.
The Aurorean sorceress turns towards him. “And you, Roland. You didn’t think to ask what Celeste wanted us to deliver? What if it had been something poisonous?”
Lucia sticks her tongue out at Roland.
“Not helping, Lucia,” Apolline says, glancing sternly back at the Wilderling woman.
“Look,” Roland says bashfully. “I’m, uh, I’m sorry. I should have asked Miss Celeste what was in the crates.”
“Well, yeah. Just be more careful next time,” Lucia mutters.
“And, uh, thanks for sticking up for me back there,” Roland says sheepishly. “I really appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome. I guess,” Lucia answers.
She turns to Apolline.
“Be honest,” she says tentatively. “How much of a fool did I make of myself?”
“The bandits started running away not long after the crate got smashed,” Apolline answers. “Which is a good thing. You weren’t much help in the fight. You were rolling on the ground and giggling.”
“Oh,” Lucia mutters.
“Then, you spent the next little while staring at your hands,” Apolline continues. “Then, you became quite distressed because your pockets were sad.”
“Oh. Capitolina, save me.”
“Then, when we came to help you, you became quite fascinated with my face,” Apolline says, her usual unflappability giving way to a wry grin. “As I recall, your exact thoughts on the matter were that I have the smoothest skin you’ve ever seen.”
“Oh.”
Apolline nods and her grin grows. “Yes. And you were quite keen to test out that theory by pawing all over my face.”
“Oh no.”
Lucia blushes with embarrassment and pulls her blanket over her face, desperate to disappear forever.
“S-sorry,” she mutters from beneath the blanket.
“It’s alright, Lucia,” Apolline assures her. “We’ve been travelling together long enough, and we’ve found ourselves in enough strange situations that one more is hardly going to make me think any less of you.”
“Thanks,” Lucia mutters, though she remains in no hurry to rejoin the world. “I think.”
“Besides,” the sorceress muses, “it’s gratifying to know that my skincare routine is working.”
“Wow,” Alda says, staring up at Apolline’s face. “You do have smooth skin.”
“Thank you, Alda,” Apolline says.
The girl turns back to Lucia, who is still hiding under her blanket. She gives Lucia’s shoulder a gentle consoling pat. “Would you feel better if I scratched behind your ears?” she asks.
“…Yes.”
“And I’m sorry about your sad pockets,” Alda continues.
“Grazie.”
“Can I scratch your ears?” Roland asks.
“Absolutely not!”
As always, next chapter on Friday.
If you’re impatient, you can download a free copy of The Alchemist of Middlesbrooke via Smashwords:
Also, because I prefer to credit my header images, that picture is by R. E. Beck from Pixabay. Also also, I don’t actually know what catnip looks like, so I kinda have to trust the tags that it is, in fact, catnip.
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