《Easy Street》 Chapter 1: Aftermath Madeline groaned awake, her body aching as the sun cruelly deprived her of sleep. Slowly she became aware of the incessant beeping of medical equipment and the general bustling of a hospital. She slowly sat up, her muscles screaming in protest for a moment before she flopped back down on the bed. ¡°You know, you¡¯re in a bit better shape than they said you were in.¡± A voice said from her right, and she turned to look at the familiar face. ¡°Captain.¡± She grunted, attempting to sit up. ¡°Stay down, we¡¯re not at headquarters.¡± Captain Jameson said, moving to close the blinds so Madeline would not be blinded by the afternoon sun. ¡°What?¡± Madeline said groggily. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°The raid went as bad as you predicted, though from reports, you performed admirably regardless.¡± He replied. That response made Madeline¡¯s mind clear as she jolted upright. ¡°How bad.¡± She demanded of her superior as she grunted in pain. ¡°I cannot debrief you here, you know that.¡± He replied, subdued. ¡°But Commander Goethe has been relieved of command, if that makes you feel better.¡± ¡°A little.¡± She muttered, leaning back against the headboard. ¡°You¡¯ve been given leave to take as long as you need to recover, especially since you¡¯ve been booked here. But if you are cleared to leave within two days, you¡¯ll need to come to the debriefing.¡± He said with some sympathy she suspected was faked. Captain Jameson got up to leave, heading for the closed door. ¡°Wait.¡± Madeline said, Captain Jameson stopped looking back at her. ¡°Why am I here, and not at headquarters?¡± She asked, already suspecting an answer. ¡°Headquarters ran out of beds.¡± He said with a stone cold expression, her familiar captain surfacing after an uncharacteristically nice few minutes. Then he left, leaving Madeline to wonder how many of her squad had survived. She got her answer a few days later after being discharged from the hospital with a number of nice bruises but still mostly intact. A portion of her right ear was missing, but her hair hid it well. Walking out into the autumnal sunshine, leaves crunched under her feet as she walked to headquarters. She liked Toronto, but it was a little too crowded for her liking. She didn¡¯t have to live in the city, but the installing a teleportation array in a private residence was far too convoluted to be practical. Plus, legal teleporters only worked two times a day. She could hire a personal transportation mage, but that was a little too expensive for her liking. And she liked to walk as much as she possibly could, so Toronto was just fine. What was not just fine were the expressions on her colleagues faces when she entered the debriefing room. Most were in better shape than she had been, but a quarter of the roughly hundred strong raid team was absent. She grit her teeth and took a seat, waiting for the meeting to begin. The room was dreadfully silent, as everyone could feel this meeting was going to be particularly rough. The door creaked open to reveal Captain Jameson in full official uniform, which surprised nobody. With how badly the raid had gone, no one was surprised someone had died. Captain Jameson fiddled with the hologram setup for a few silent minutes before giving up and standing at the podium. ¡°I, Captain Jameson call this debriefing session to order.¡± He said as a formality to the silent room. Looking at the room, he took a deep breath and sighed. ¡°The raid was a failure on practically every level, no primary objectives were achieved, two of five secondary objectives were achieved and all but one target escaped. And the target we did get was a sick goblin.¡± He took another breath before straightening up. ¡°Questions?¡± He chose a person from the back, though practically everyone had a hand raised. The person Madeline barely recognized as a member of the Philadelphia branch. Like her, he had been conscripted for the mission. And they¡¯d been transported back for treatment, so most had stayed for the debriefing.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. ¡°Casualties?¡± He asked, and Captain Jameson took out a notepad, looking uncomfortable. ¡°Eleven dead, and another thirteen still in hospital are stable, though one is in a coma.¡± He read off his notepad. The room stilled to the point Madeline could hear her own heartbeat before Captain Jameson spoke again. ¡°Everyone not in this room is either in hospital recovering or is dead. There will be a list of the dead on the cork board in the hall. Any other questions?¡± He asked. There were none. ¡°Right.¡± He continued. ¡°Commander Gotha has been stripped of rank and transferred.¡± ¡°She should be shot!¡± Someone shouted, and immediately the room erupted into shouting and yelling as the agents voiced their support for that statement, Madeline herself inclined to join in but stayed quiet. For now. ¡°QUIET!¡± Shouted the captain, and the room gradually fell silent. ¡°Believe me, I am fully aware of how you all feel. But this was the decision of Regional. We can¡¯t do anything about it.¡± He said, sounding slightly depressed. But Madeline knew Jameson. He had joined three years after her but was already two promotions above her. There was a reason he was a captain and she was still a squad leader after six years with the Bureau. ¡°I declared this debriefing over. Submit your personal reports on the raid by the end of the month. I¡¯ve also secured three days leave for everyone involved.¡± He finished and walked out of the room. The agents did not feel like talking as they filed out of the room, hushed tones comforting each other as they passed Madeline, who was the last to leave. She briefly paused to read the casualties list outside. Her four squad members were on the list of wounded, which made her sigh with relief. Then she went to visit her squad in the headquarters medical ward. They were surprisingly cheerful all things considered, though she did notice a souring of the mood when she informed them of the debrief. She liked her squad, and had trained them basically since they¡¯d been with the Bureau. Hopefully they took the events of the raid well, otherwise she''d have to beat it out of them. She reminisced on the night of the raid, trying to put together a coherent picture for her report she would be writing the next day. She¡¯d led her squad as planned around the back of the building, entering the basement as A and B teams breached the entrance. But A and B teams never got through the front door, and her team went uncontested deeper into the facility. They lost radio contact, and ran into a couple of half-blood vampires which ambushed them, nearly capturing her squad. She remembered ordering a retreat as they fought off the vampires, dragging two wounded with them, though she did not remember who had been wounded when. She stayed behind to fend off the vampires, but they opted to escape rather than fight. She remember the moment of panic when she returned to find her squad sprawled on the ground, the sinking feeling of powerlessness in that moment. She stretched as she walked, her right side protesting from the line of bruises lining her body. Whatever knocked her out had hit her like a troll. The more she struggled the more the thing hit her. Eventually she had passed out. From her discussions with her squad they woke up with bandaged wounds, and radioed for help before evacuating Madeline and the two who had been slashed by the vampire ambush. The other two had stayed to help the raid but had gotten into a spellfight with a Fae and were lucky it was in a good mood. And that she had beat spellfighting into them every day for the past two years. Madeline frowned, opening the door to her apartment in the dark evening after fiddling with the lock for a moment. How had the intelligence been so wrong? It was supposed to be a minor trafficking ring run by a few trolls and goblins, maybe a hobgoblin or two running the place. Instead they stumbled into a nest of vampires and their guests they were entertaining. It just seemed wrong to think they had been that wrong. Sighing, she prepared a sad premade meal and took an afternoon nap. It was far too short but the sun was down and her sleep schedule was already a mess, so she got up to stretch and exercise before dinner. She already felt much better than before she went to sleep, which was nice as she had expected to be sore for weeks after the beating from that thing. Again, her thoughts wandered to the creature that had knocked her out. Madeline was uncomfortable with the whole thing. Nobody had even known they had been attacked, so the Bureau had assigned the bandaging to herself. Maybe she had done it, but if she ever met someone who claimed it, she¡¯d buy them a drink or two. Smiling a little, she pulled a bottle of white wine from the fridge and watched the moon rise, feeling more alive than she had in weeks, despite the injuries. The raid was a failure, but her squad was battered but alive, and that was enough for her. Chapter 2: Easy Street Bar Madeline woke the next day, feeling surprisingly good. She went to clean up and when she finished, checked her slate. She did feel a little surprised at how late she had slept in, but dismissed it as needing to heal. Then she went for a walk. Toronto was a nice place, especially at the beginning of Autumn, and her walk along Lake Ontario was filled with elementalists practicing their craft, enjoying the weather and naturally higher concentration of magic the lake afforded to water based magics. People flew, surfed, and happily enjoyed the lovely day. The city had cleared a large part of the ruined metropolis after the city had been razed, opting to create spaces where people could freely practice magic without being too much of a bother. It was a little to rowdy for Madeline, but it was amusing when children flopped over after running out of mana. Her hometown had never recovered to the same degree that Toronto had, though in North America the only places that had survived at all were the areas around the great lakes or nestled in the Appalachian mountains. Madeline smiled a little, remembering how her little brother had always wanted to go to Mexico, despite the trip being extremely dangerous. Madeline and her family were nowhere close to either. But her brother had gotten his wish, and had been stationed in northern Mexico on his second deployment. Spying an orb of water about a meter across held aloft by what looked like an apprentice magos by the look of his blue robes, she quietly whispered a spell that added a bit of water, destabilizing the spell and sending it splashing down onto the unfortunate college student. Smirking, she hurried away as inconspicuously as possible. She had to get it in before they outgrew her in power, after all. It still made her jealous, seeing the ease at which others performed tasks she struggled with. She was only good at imbuing mana into her body. Not much help against a fireball, if she was honest. Eventually, she decided to head home, electing to use a little magic to put a spring in her step, and she arrived at her door in minutes. She slipped inside, and checked the slate, sighing in exasperation at the list of missed calls from her mother. She called her back on the spot. Her mother picked up on the second ring. ¡°Hey Mom.¡± Madeline said, slightly out of breath from the magic exertion. Laying the slate into its projecting dock, her mother¡¯s face flickered to life. A projected hologram frowning at her with a familiar anger. ¡°Madeline. I called eleven times. Why didn¡¯t you pick up.¡± She demanded, but her voice stayed low. ¡°Accident at work, was in the hospital.¡± Madeline replied curtly. ¡°Oh? Still trying to get me to believe you work for the Zoo?¡± Her mother replied snarkily. ¡°You know I¡¯m not allowed to tell you what I¡¯m doing.¡± She replied, and her mother sighed as a look of concern crossed her face. ¡°I¡¯m just worried about you, Maddie. There¡¯s a lot of nasty stuff out there, and with your brother in the expeditionary force I don¡¯t exactly see you two often.¡± Her mother said, looking sad. Madeline felt a twinge of guilt, but then threw it out the window when her mother kept talking. ¡°You know, you aren¡¯t getting any young-¡± Her mother started, and Madeline stopped her. ¡°Mother, we talked about this.¡± The tone of her voice must not have been enough. ¡°I know, but-¡± ¡°I¡¯ve got another forty years at least before it becomes a problem, and you¡¯re likely to live well past three hundred. It is not going to be a problem.¡± Madeline said, running through the line she¡¯d practiced for situations like this. ¡°Fine, honey. But your little brother already has four. Wait too long and you¡¯ll never catch up!¡± She cackled, then ended the call before Madeline could respond. Her anger nearly boiled over into calling her back, but the few times she had done so had resulted in a more than just a little animosity with her sibling. So she held herself back, gently picking up the slate and depositing it on the kitchen counter. A message appeared, from her mother. She read it, her blood singing with magical rage, despite her magical exhaustion after the short journey. It was a free introductory course to cooking, already booked for this evening. This time the anger did boil over and she nearly hurled the slate across the room before she caught herself. Calming her rage, she decided to investigate the course. Which was fortunate, as her mother had done some homework. The class took a few streets over, and was apparently fairly prestigious, despite its slightly tired looking building. She read the booking, sighing. She didn¡¯t want to go at all. But her mother was right about one thing. Madeline was truly a terrible cook. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Madeline strode into the tired brick building, a tarnished bell dinging gently from her arrival. It was a small establishment with a bar running the width of the restaurant, and a row of couples¡¯ tables lining the windows. Everything in the restaurant looked weathered but cared for, which was unusual to see when repairs could be done with a flick of a wrist and a simple incantation. ¡°Welcome! Flip the sign on the door and come around the back of the bar!¡± Shouted a man from the back, and she complied, making her way around the bar and to the kitchen where five others were gathered. ¡°Hello ma¡¯am, you would be Ms. Gray, I presume?¡± A smartly dressed man stated, checking off what appeared to be her name on a clipboard with a pen. How quaint, Madeline thought while suppressing a smile. ¡°Yes, that is me.¡± Madeline replied, giving the others in the room a better look. They was an even amount of men and women, which did not surprise Madeline, given that the course was one meant to teach couples to cook together. ¡°Excellent!¡± The clipboard man said, setting it aside. Then he hurried to the back of the rather spacious kitchen, pulling a long, thin rectangular table to the group who quickly moved to claim places. He busied himself by putting on an apron, then whirled back to the table with more charisma than Captain Jameson had expressed in years. Rolling up his sleeves, he made everyone introduce themselves, and eventually Madeline was forced to as well. ¡°Hello, I¡¯m Madeline, I¡¯ve worked for at the Zoo for, six years now? And I¡¯m taking this course because my mother thinks I¡¯m a terrible cook.¡± Madeline said, giving her usual alibi. ¡°Well Ms. Gray, candor is always welcome, and there is no such thing as a terrible cook, only an inexperienced one.¡± Clipboard man said before introducing himself. ¡°I am Erwin Wicker, owner and chef of the Easy Street Bar. And I¡¯m here because you all wanted to be here.¡± He said with a smirk, eliciting a chuckle from his customers. He continued with as much enthusiasm as before, bringing out ingredients while simultaneously guiding the novices through little techniques to make preparing food faster without magic. There was little flair in his movements, but he seamlessly guided five people through making six plates of crispy duck breast and vegetables, topped by a fruit sauce or glaze that had Madeline¡¯s mouth watering before they were halfway done. Bellies full and a few celebratory bottles of wine drunk by the group, the students turned to leave just before midnight. Madeline helped clean up a little, feeling guilty about the horrendous mess they had made. Wicker thanked her, and they had the place cleaned quicker than she thought possible without magic. As she put away the last knife in a drawer, she turned around to see Mr. Wicker leaning leaning against his stove, arms crossed. ¡°I appreciate you helping me clean, Ms. Gray.¡± Mr. Wicker said, the charisma largely gone from his voice. ¡°So you are human.¡± Remarked Madeline with a tired grin towards Mr. Wicker. ¡°Pardon?¡± He said, raising an eyebrow. ¡°You sounded tired for the first time tonight.¡± She said hurriedly, hoping to not come off as rude. ¡°Ah.¡± He said, regarding her with his eyes. One eye, actually, Madeline realized. With the charisma gone and the man not buzzing all over the place, she realized he had a false eye. A good one, but false nonetheless. Madeline realized she was staring and looked away, feeling awkward. ¡°Sorry, I just noticed your eye. I did not mean to be rude.¡± She muttered, bringing her gaze back up to his. ¡°Oh, that. It¡¯s quite good isn¡¯t it? The shade of green was difficult to match.¡± He said, his voice flat. Once eye contact was made with the proper eye, his brow furrowed a little. ¡°It is, I hadn¡¯t noticed it until now.¡± Madeline replied comfortably, assured that she hadn¡¯t utterly destroyed this relationship as well. ¡°It seems we¡¯re both noticing things now.¡± Mr. Wicker replied, his voice slicing through her comfort. He turned around, walking around and putting up another miscellaneous clean items and putting them away. ¡°What?¡± Madeline asked, bewildered. ¡°When was the last time you fed?¡± Wicker asked, closing a cabinet. ¡°When I last ate? Wasn¡¯t that just now?¡± Madeline replied, and Wicker regarded her for a moment before shrugging. ¡°You tell me.¡± He said with some annoyance. ¡°Can you stop with the cryptic bullshit and give me a straight answer!¡± Said Madeline with exasperation fueled with tipsy bravado. ¡°Sure. Are you a demon?¡± He asked simply, returning to the stove to lean on it. Madeline, for her part, was speechless. ¡°That is ridiculous. I¡¯m human.¡± She stated, moving to leave. ¡°Sure you are.¡± Wicker said, following her. ¡°I get tested at work regularly.¡± Madeline replied, not thinking. ¡°The zoo, of all places, tests for demonification?¡± Wicker replied sarcastically. Madeline froze, then turned back towards him. ¡°Yes.¡± She stated, recovering from her momentary jolt. ¡°Then I apologize, Ms. Gray, my eye must not be as good as it once was. Please have a good night. And do visit again, if circumstances allow.¡± Wicker said as she walked through the door and didn¡¯t look back. His eye followed her until she was out of sight. Chapter 3: Questions need Answering Wicker bemusedly watched Ms. Gray leave his restaurant. He was almost certain she was a demon. But there was perhaps some room to doubt. All that he felt from her was¡­ suspicion. His instincts were good, but they were dull from his time in the city. Perhaps she was human. But it made him suspicious when she stated she¡¯d been tested. Hardly anyone was tested regularly, and those that were usually worked for the Bureau. Or were demons themselves, testing a new method to get around the blood test. But something bothered Wicker. It felt off to suspect a mage of considerable skill. He¡¯d initially been a little cautious of the young woman. Her volume of magic was poor, terrible even, but the control over that magic was superb for her age. Someone like that would not have been easy to infect. It was still bothering him as he went upstairs to his home and cleaned up a little before going to bed. When Wicker woke, it was still bothering him, which was annoying considering how little fazed him these days. Even his ritual of coffee and sunrise didn¡¯t help. Coffee still in hand, he walked over to a bookshelf, and selected a well worn journal. Flipping through the pages and pages of hand written notes, he finally found the page on demons. Wicker found the section on reproduction and finished his coffee as he perused the dense writing. Finding nothing he did not already know, he eventually closed it with a sigh and re-shelved the journal. Evidently, the past would be of little use here. Wracking his brain he remembered what he knew about the demons. Unfortunately, he would have to visit an expert. Wicker entered the apothecary down the street just after opening, wiping his feet on the self cleaning floor mat. ¡°Hello, how can I he- oh Erwin, good to see you, how are you?¡± Emile the witch asked, resuming her potion stocking when she recognized Wicker. ¡°Good, good. I¡¯ve actually come across a small problem in my library.¡± Wicker said, stepping up to the glass case displaying rows of potions, a few glowing faintly in their little jars. ¡°Oh? Do tell.¡± Emile said, gently sorting the last of the potions. ¡°My section on demons has very little on their reproductive habits.¡± He said with a straight face, and Emile regarded him with a small smirk. ¡°Thinking of summoning a friend, are we?¡± She jested. ¡°No, I think I may have run across someone who has been infected and hasn¡¯t turned yet.¡± Wicker said simply. Emile¡¯s eyes widened slightly before she replied quietly, ¡°Are you sure?¡± ¡°No, that¡¯s why I¡¯m here.¡± Wicker said, somewhat amused. He remembered Emile being interested in demons, and was glad he had remembered correctly. ¡°Let me get my notes.¡± Emile said, running to the back of her shop. ¡°And flip the sign!¡± She shouted back to him. He complied, and lowered the blinds as well as supplying about an hours worth of magic to the lights. When she returned she had a huge stack of books, far outstripping his own collection. He felt slightly jealous at some of the titles she had, as he¡¯d been looking for some of them for quite a while now. ¡°Demonology for the Common Man? How did you get your hands on that?¡± Wicker said jealously. ¡°It was my grandfather¡¯s. He worked at the university¡¯s Department of Spirits.¡± Emile said with a smile, fully aware of the value of the original copy of the book. Wicker nodded, and Emile started to open books to various pages, finding the sections on reproduction. After half an hour of reading and discussing, Wicker started to have a pretty good idea of what Ms. Gray was. Seeing Wicker thinking, Emile snapped her fingers, getting his attention. ¡°Spill it, Erwin.¡±Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. ¡°So, from what we¡¯ve gathered, this person who is infected is either entirely human and I¡¯m paranoid, or she¡¯s been injected with so little venom it is undetectable by anything other than a full blood test.¡± Wicker said quietly. Emile pursed her lips, leaning against the display counter. ¡°Erwin, the amount of venom control needed for that little venom is¡­ astronomical.¡± ¡°Can venom be stored before it is used? Like snake venom?¡± Wicker asked, looking at her. ¡°It can, but it degrades in about a week, maybe a little more.¡± Emile replied, still frowning. ¡°But the venom grows in potency the longer it goes between uses by the demon.¡± ¡°So demon venom is like wine? Finer the older?¡± Wicker asked, and Emile nodded. ¡°Yeah, and like how wine goes bad after its opened, so too does the venom.¡± She finished. ¡°So storing is out.¡± Wicker sighed. ¡°Yep. Honestly, the oldest demon mentioned in this book is over eight thousand years old, and what that thing could do sounds similar.¡± Emile said sounding a little excited. ¡°So¡­ several thousand years old at the least.¡± Wicker said, not sharing her enthusiasm. ¡°Its likely. It might even be pre-Calamity. Plenty of stuff is still kicking around from then.¡± Emile said, still entranced by the thought of an ancient demon trapezing around Toronto, a supposedly safe city. Wicker nodded, then closed the book in front of him. ¡°Well thank you, Emile, you¡¯ve been a great help as always.¡± He said with a smile. ¡°No problem at all, it was fun. You still serving that duck breast?¡± Emile asked, and Wicker shook his head. ¡°Wyvern this week. Less fat, just as crispy. On the house, for the help.¡± He said, and Emile walked him to the door. Emile opened the blinds as he left, saying ¡°If you see them again, let me know!¡± ¡°I will!¡± He shouted over his shoulder, and walked back down the street to his place. It had been a productive morning, but he needed to get ready for his guests tonight. And he would be damned if a several millennia old demon was going to stop him from making a delicious meal for his customers. Hours later, Wicker finished wiping down the last table with a dirty rag before he closed all the blinds and swept the place in a well practiced method. Wicker knew it would be faster to clean with magic, but it was so unfulfilling to him. It simply seemed too minuscule a use for magic. Sure, he could use it, but imbuing magic into lots of small things constantly left little if something happened that actually required it. Perhaps it was paranoia, but he acknowledged that it was a habit he had gained through experience. Better to keep it. Wicker¡¯s thoughts wandered, and as per usual the past day or so, his mind returned to Ms. Gray, the likely infected human still out there, in the streets of Toronto. And her parent, likely a demon of considerable strength. Wicker went upstairs to his bookshelf, regarding his pitifully small section on demons. ¡°I¡¯m really out of my depth, aren¡¯t I.¡± Wicker whispered to himself, his books looming over him in the dim bedroom. The personal library was a collection the local universities would likely kill to get their hands on. That being said, most people on Easy Street had similar collections of rare and eccentric literature in different areas. Emile certainly had the most extensive collection, to be sure. Wicker¡¯s was less than a third the size, and Emile¡¯s actually made money because she consulted them regularly for her work. Only, Wicker¡¯s collection was a little unique, even among the curious collection of weirdos he called friends. His was the only one that was entirely authored by one person. Chapter 4: A minor amount of Panic Madeline didn¡¯t sleep well at all that night. Perhaps it was the alcohol, or the bloated feeling that comes with eating too much food. Or maybe it was because for the first time in her life, she¡¯d been accused of being a demon in hiding. Eventually the chirping of birds shamed her out of her bed and into starting her day. Despite the fact she hadn¡¯t had any sleep, she still felt mostly fine. The uneasy feeling in her stomach would stay as she cleaned up and ate breakfast, however. Being a demon wasn¡¯t the end of the world, especially in this day and age. In fact, the lives of demons had been vastly improved over the last hundred odd years. Madeline remembered how venomously her grandmother had spoken about ¡°them¡±, not even differentiating between proper monsters and the Demonfolk. It still wasn¡¯t great, but it was a lot better than getting burned at the stake with magefire on a Sunday afternoon for entertainment. The more she thought about it, the more she realized how disastrous it could be for her if she actually became a demon. She¡¯d have to move to the Demon Quarter of the city, and would need a permit to get around, she¡¯d be fired, she¡¯d¡­ never get to meet her family again. Her father died in the territorial wars, her brother was a professional soldier, her mother was¡­ well, her mother was a product of her grandmother. No, this would not be allowed to happen. Could not. She had to be sure of her innocence, that she was still human. Still untainted. Pure. And yet she remembered how quickly she¡¯d healed from wounds she received from the raid. Her squad was largely still in hospital or on leave, and technically so was she even though the wounds had long since healed. There was still a worm of doubt in her mind. Madeline took a knife from the drawer, took a deep breath, and pricked her finger. Bright red blood welled up, and Madeline stared at it for a few moments before releasing her breath and going over to the sink. She washed out the cut, checking for unnaturally quick healing, or anything patently demonic. There was nothing, as expected. So it was a little surprising when her eyesight clouded from the tears that sprung up unbidden, momentarily interfering with her concentration in casting the magic she was using to close the wound. Then she immediately left to go for a walk to clear her mind. She was mentally exhausted and it wasn¡¯t even ten in the morning. Madeline was halfway out the door before she remembered that the knife she¡¯d used hadn¡¯t been cleaned, and was still laying in the sink with her blood on it. She decided to forget about it for now. Madeline followed her feet along the waterfront, her mind in the clouds as she walked by the magic park. Remembering the water she¡¯d dropped on the college student, she felt a twinge of regret. If she was a demon, she¡¯d be banned from this part of town all together, as demons had their own place to practice magic. This one was for humans only. She might not be as powerful as even the toddlers in this field, but at least she was still human. The uneasiness in her stomach subsided as her momentary paranoia gave way to contentment with her life. She was safe here, and that could not be taken from her. Though she did notice something that she¡¯d never notice before in the practice field. There were the children being guided through magic classes, the college students performing stupidly difficult spells repeatedly to pass their finals, and everyone in between. The people she noticed for the first time were two figures, one of whom she recognized. A man in all white clothing that reminded her of the priesthood and an officer of the local Bureau, standing watch over the practice field. Madeline was going to keep going but the officer noticed her and waved, motioning her over. Madeline obliged, as she had nothing better to do. ¡°Hello, whose this?¡± Madeline said, waving as she got close. She decided not to make it obvious she didn¡¯t remember the officer¡¯s name.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°Agent Gray, good to see you. This is Abraham, he¡¯s joining the local Knight chapter soon and they asked me to show him around town.¡± The officer said, clearly proud that she¡¯d been chosen for the task. After all, it wasn¡¯t often the local chapter took new trainees. Single trainees were taken in when one they already had wasn¡¯t performing too well. Or had died. Madeline usually did the on-boarding for irregulars because no one else liked doing it. At the mention of who Madeline was, Abraham stiffened a little, looking nervously between the off-duty Madeline and the on-duty officer. Madeline raised an eyebrow at this, and the other officer noticed, motioning for Abraham to be courteous. ¡°I¡¯m looking forward to working with you in the future, Agent Gray.¡± Abraham said with a smoothness that made Madeline wonder if they had recruited directly from the priesthood. Given his choice of all white clothing, she probably wasn¡¯t far off the mark. ¡°Pleasure is all mine, Abraham. Do well and you¡¯ll outrank me in a few years.¡± Madeline said with a smile, extending a hand as a courtesy. Abraham took it a little too quickly, his awkwardness apparent to all. He seemed to jolt a little at the contact, but that could be down to how little actual interaction the priesthood had. ¡°Thank you. Officer Ginnesburg was giving me an excellent tour of the local chapter¡¯s territory.¡± Abraham said, and suddenly Madeline remembered the other officer¡¯s name. Amy Ginnesburg. ¡°Oh? Ginnesburg giving a tour? Didn¡¯t you get lost in the office on your second day? How the times have changed.¡± Madeline pondered, putting a finger on her chin to fake contemplation while Amy¡¯s face reddened slightly. Amy was a little speechless but couldn¡¯t refute it. Seeing the disparity in seniority, Abraham stepped in. ¡°Is it true that you got in a fight with the Deputy Lord Rosenthal?¡± Abraham said, making Amy stiffen as Abraham had done earlier. Madeline tilted her head at Abraham. ¡°Where in the world did you hear that?¡± Madeline replied, amused. One slap hardly counted as a fight. ¡°Quartermaster Don. He said tha-¡± Abraham was cut off by Ginnesburg running damage control on the trainee, who cut him off. ¡°Abraham! Look at the time, we gotta go!¡± She shouted, grabbing his arm and dragging the apprentice knight away from Madeline like she was a bomb waiting to go off. Given her reputation in the Bureau and Knight Chapter, it wasn¡¯t surprising but it was unusual for people to be brave enough to talk about it in front of her. She¡¯d have to keep an eye on this apprentice Abraham. She¡¯d also have to go visit Quartermaster Don. That crotchety old bastard probably missed her anyway. And she needed to keep her reputation from getting worse than it already was. [+++] ¡°Heavens above, she¡¯s terrifying.¡± Abraham muttered as the two rounded the corner and left the practice park behind them. ¡°I know, so why were you digging your own grave?¡± Hissed Officer Ginnesburg, who slowed down once they were finally on the side street. ¡°You looked embarrassed. Is helping someone in need a crime?¡± Abraham said. Ginnesburg sighed, and let go of Abraham¡¯s arm. ¡°No. But its a little humiliating to be saved by someone not in the forces yet.¡± ¡°Kindness can be given to all except demons and monsters, and you are neither as far as I can see.¡± Abraham smiled, to which Ginnesburg nodded thanks. ¡°Nevertheless, Agent Gray is truly a force to be reckoned with.¡± He said. ¡°What makes you say that?¡± Ginnesburg said, already aware of the some of the rumors floating around her senior. ¡°Well, I was accepted late, and all through training the instructors were worried if I¡¯d be able to impress Agent Gray or not, if that tells you anything.¡± Abraham stated, and Ginnesburg just looked confused. ¡°Why would the Chapter care about what Agent Gray thinks about their recruits?¡± Ginnesburg asked, genuinely curious. ¡°Ginnesburg doesn¡¯t have a lot of magic. Actually, she¡¯s got so little she actually soaks in ambient magic instead of radiating it. Its a really rare condition, so she has to be extremely efficient with her magic, and can¡¯t cast anything beyond her body.¡± Abraham explained. ¡°Wait, so she¡¯s a self-taught knight?¡± Ginnesburg asked incredulously. ¡°Basically. The only reason the Chapter hasn¡¯t poached her outright is that the Bureau doesn¡¯t restrict access to her. If they did, they¡¯d probably do it next week.¡± Abraham finished. ¡°Wow.¡± Muttered Ginnesburg. ¡°Yeah.¡± Abraham agreed. ¡°So why didn¡¯t she just join the Chapter in the first place?¡± Ginnesburg wondered. ¡°From what I heard, she applied but didn¡¯t make the cut. Not enough mana reserves.¡± Abraham stated quietly. ¡°Don¡¯t the Bureau have those standards too?¡± ¡°Yeah. But by the time she applied to join the Bureau her control was better and her brother wrote a letter of recommendation for her.¡± Abraham said as they walked into the Bureau¡¯s Toronto headquarters. ¡°How do you know that?¡± Ginnesburg asked suspiciously, eyeing Abraham. ¡°Her brother told me.¡± Said Abraham as he strode off, leaving Ginnesburg wondering who the hell this new apprentice actually was.