Sworded Affair

Chapter 132: Peace in Our Time

After an awkward apology, Noah had retreated back into the kitchen, needing no help with cooking as usual. Now stuck in her armoured form with nothing to fight, Emma ended up lounging on the sofa with nothing to do, wishing that the apocalypse hadn’t taken the internet down. Sure, the Weave existed, but as far as Emma could see it was used strictly for magical business, with nothing in the way of entertainment on offer.

[There was never a point investing in it, not when mortals were producing more content than even the most dedicated Magus can consume in a lifetime. It’s not the same across the globe, but in the Empire at least, everyone is sufficiently integrated into modern life, enough so that entertainment as a distinct cultural centre died hundreds of years ago. This was a great boon, because it meant practitioners knew how to behave in public; such that entire months could pass without the kinds of incidents commonplace elsewhere. You know, the ones leading to mass hysteria and casualties, witch hunts, and the inevitable memory or timeline alterations that followed. ]

“Thanks for the reminder,” Emma grumbled, still rather annoyed whenever she thought back to the Candy Man incident.

[That one was bad, admittedly, but such things happen. What’s important is that in aggregate, there were only three instances requiring timeline manipulation that year; just three, in an Empire of over a hundred thousand magic users of varying skill, age and temperament. That’s remarkably low by any standard; why, imagine only having three car accidents a year in England, before the Terminus. Utterly unbelievable.]

Emma wasn’t sure that was the best comparison, necessarily, but she didn’t know enough on the subject to argue it either. More than anything else, she was curious what Felix was up to: something in entertainment, apparently. That painted a strange picture, when put together with his tendency to spy on people from afar, to put it mildly. Shaking her head, Emma’s thoughts turned away from her absentee brother, eventually drifting to something that only the truly bored would willingly undertake: tidying her inventory.

[Saddlebag withdrawn.]

“Mom conjured this, didn’t she?” Emma mused, staring at the oversized saddlebag created for the use of Sir Bearington. “It doesn’t look particularly magical.”

When neither her staring nor the System provided any answers, Emma concluded that it wasn’t worth keeping; not when Eden’s Echo was more than sufficient for her needs. Thus decided, Emma tossed it lazily towards the magical bin purchased at great expense from Crystal’s Emporium. It certainly looked bizarre, the entire saddlebag compacting before falling into a bin half its size, and that was that.

[Victorian Gown (3-piece) withdrawn.]

The next item on the docket was Emma’s fancy new clothes, which she’d not yet examined in depth since picking them up at the Sherwood Gallery. She’d stored them without the packaging, so there was nothing for the bin this time; just a moment’s thought to drop them on the coffee table, revealed at long last.

“This can’t be a coincidence,” Emma frowned, staring at the blinding pink layers with some consternation.

It wasn’t as if Emma hated the colour pink, but when paired with the leotard her homunculus came with, it was cause for suspicion. Still, that was only a minor issue by Emma’s reckoning; far more problematic was the fact that she had no idea how to put such a garment on; there were far too many buckles, clips and belts than she knew what to do with. Emma’s hand was halfway to a non-existent pocket by the time she realised; so used to having easy access to YouTube tutorials for any subject of fancy.

[There’s downsides to formal clothing such as this. The bindings are only meant to be fastened once put on; and they’re all conveniently on the back in hard to reach spaces. Typically, a manservant or maid is required to make the process seamless if magic isn’t an option.]

“I could store the pieces again, and release them directly on top of the homunculus. That still doesn’t solve actually tightening the damn thing.”

[This is why I preferred a nightgown.

Victorian Gown (3-piece) stored.]

Her efforts stymied, Emma was prepared to move onto a second round with the Fox she’d been gifted, when the front door opened, diverting her thoughts.

“Welcome home!” Noah shouted from the dining room. “Just in time, too, dinner’s ready!”

Emma switched back to her Homunculus at that, relieved to find her nose back to normal. She beat Elizabeth to the dining room; but not Saint, who had already claimed a corner for herself, staring intently at the trio of suckling pigs that formed the centrepiece of the table. Bowls filled with potato salad, coleslaw and boiled vegetables completed the meal, along with water and red wine for all. Four seats were set out in total, one for each member of the family; but since Saint had opted to stay on the table, that left one spot empty.

[Fox (Level 1) withdrawn.]

“Behave, alright?” Emma warned the latest addition to the room. “You can eat with us, as long as you don’t make a mess.”

In a sign of the improved intelligence a level granted, the Fox curled up in its chair, waiting patiently rather than jumping the table or bolting for the distance. Truly, Noah’s ear was a worthwhile sacrifice.

“Another one?” Elizabeth muttered, staring at the Fox with a gimlet eye.

She didn’t say anything further however, her empty stomach calling the shots, having her refocus as everyone reached for the food and dug in.

Mom seems annoyed, Emma noted. Not at Mr Fox so much as the world in general. A long day at work, probably.

Even so, that didn’t detract from the simple pleasure of having a peaceful meal with the whole family (minus one). A welcome return to normality over the past few days, and the first true hint of stability in Emma’s life since the apocalypse started.

I could get used to this, Emma admitted to herself, between bites.

[Irregular System broadcast incoming, by order of Overmind.]