Morningstar

[CH. 0024] - The Spellmaker

"I'll be back before dark." -Baal Berith

The rich aroma of roast chicken wafted through the air, a culinary interloper in the breakfast scene. Nord pushed open the kitchen door to find Finnea and Kirara seated at the table, tearing into steaming chunks of meat.

Standing at the counter, Baal turned toward her with a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice in his hand. "Good morning, Morningstar!"

Nord raised an eyebrow. "Hi. What's going on? What's with the chicken for breakfast?"

"My chickens!" Kirara exclaimed, eyes twinkling. "I demanded three, but he wanted to give me only ten! But I'm smart and asked three!"

Nord shot a puzzled look at Baal as she joined them at the table. "What is she talking about?"

Baal chuckled, placing a chicken thigh—her favourite part—on her plate. "Miss Kittie here has a unique understanding of math."

Settling into his chair, Baal filled his own plate with chicken, then meticulously peeled off the crunchy skin from his piece and set it on Nord's plate.

"Why'd you do that?" she asked, eying the golden, crispy skin.

He met her gaze but remained silent, opting to sip his orange juice instead.

Nord scanned the room. "Where's Adamastor?"

Finnea shrugged, her mouth full of chicken. "Haven't seen him. He didn't come back yet."

"It's daylight," Nord observed, a hint of concern shading her voice.

"I am not tasked to protect him," Finnea replied.

"He's fine. Don't worry about him," Baal said with a cold tone, almost disdain.

The breakfast table had been cleared, but Nord still felt the weight of the meal settling in her stomach. It was an unusual time for such a feast, but that was how things seemed to go around here.

She wandered into the store, an almost austere room starkly furnished with just a leather chair and a table holding her tattoo tools, ink, and machine.

"Are you ready?" Baal's voice broke the silence as he appeared behind her.

"Ready for what?"

"To work!"

She turned, a smirk creasing her face. "I think you're forgetting something. I need a spellmaker, remember?"

Undeterred, Baal strode over to the counter and rummaged around, emerging with an empty notebook and two pencils. "So, what's the idea?"

"What's the point, Baal?" she questioned, her eyes narrowing. "I can draw all kinds of pretty pictures, but without a spellmaker, they're just... doodles."

He held her gaze, pencil poised over the empty notebook. "So, what was the idea?"

Nord's eyes flicked from the notebook to Baal. "You?"

"Me."

"You're a spellmaker?" She folded her arms across her chest. "You're joking, right?"

Baal feigned a hurt expression, clutching his hand over his heart dramatically. "Ouch, Morningstar, you sure know how to throw a punch."

"So you're not joking?" she asked, her arms slowly unfolding as she stepped closer to the counter.

Baal's eyes twinkled, his voice retaining its smooth, almost melodic quality. "I am not."