[Omen of the Witchblade] Chapter 139 - Son of Cluckley

Only once all Magi–and their honored guests–had gifted the Pyre their aspects did they place the [Son of Cluckley Egg] into the flames.

Mel wanted to wince, half-expecting disaster. This was entirely new to her. She knew next to nothing about the Pyre, but she understood the ways of the Magi.

They wouldn’t have done this without good reason.

Just as Mel was wondering if perhaps these Magi had made an error where hers would not, the egg began to shake and crack. Something was fighting to get out.

A prismatic gas leaked out of a crack. It sounded suspiciously like, “Wheeeee!”

Life flowed into the space, suffusing the floorboards, the rafters, every square inch of the Rook, with [Son of Cluckley’s] spirit. As it became a living creature, the Rook’s injuries began to heal. The dirt was swept away as the shattered floorboards and the shredded walls mended.

In stark contrast, Mel realized that it had been a cold and quiet space except for the area right next to the Pyre. Little different from any other structure, magical or otherwise.

Now, the Rook was a living creature, filled with the mind and heart of a sacred spirit she knew so little about.

The warmth and comfort she felt in front of the Pyre followed her as she joined the Magi exploring their new home.

The golden red flames of the Pyre burned merrily. Fenris slept soundly in its embrace, at peace. Jacob bowed his head, tears running down his bearded, handsomely chiseled face.

He reached a hand into the Pyre and gently stroked his best friend’s fiery fur. Mel was hardly surprised that the Pyre didn’t burn him.

It greeted him like an old friend.

Most of the exchange students cheered boisterously for Son of Cluckley. Miranda separated from Gwen and traced a claw sigil over her heart out of inky dark mana.

The vampyr pressed a fist to the sigil. It seemed like a meaningful gesture, one that Gwen reciprocated with her Winter aspect.

All the exchange students started doing the same. Surprisingly, Solomon joined in as well.

Maybe he’s been to Worldshard Almora too?

Mel was happy that her normie friends were here to see it all go down. Sabrina, Maddie, Shane, Bernard, and Nathan watched the magic unveil with wide eyes full of wonder. Even Heath was enchanted.

It was an expression many Magi shared.

Then the Rook took its first breath.

The lights flickered.

The floorboards flexed.

A boisterous, “BAW-KAWK!” filled the streets as Son of Cluckley crowed for his very first time. Magic filled the air and settled on the space.

Your Rook has Leveled Up!

Your Rook gains additional space, deeper mana reserves, greater durability, and access to tier 1 wardings.

The potion shop was fully integrated with the tavern, more than doubling the space available. And that was just on the first floor.

There were far more rooms than there were Magi.

“We could open an inn!” Shrubley said excitedly as he scampered behind the rearranged bar. He took out a rag from his inventory and began wiping the clean counter back and forth.

Logan stepped up to the bar and sat on one of the leather padded seats.

Shrubley tried (and failed) to drop his voice several octaves. “What can I get ya, pardner?”

“Don’t do that,” Logan said.

“But it’s fun!”

The lone Magi shook his head, but Mel could see the smile he tried to hide on his face.

Gwen squeezed Mel’s shoulder, flashing a friendly fanged grin. “Hey, Mel. I’m proud of you. You bested an Iron competitor, saved a bunch of people, and set up the Rook all in one day.”

“I am pretty awesome,” Mel agreed. She flicked the brim of her witch’s hat. “The Shard chose wisely.”

Gwen barked a laugh at that. “It really did. Cool halo by the way.”

Mel glanced at Charlie’s halo. She focused on turning the visual display off once more. She looked back at Gwen. “What halo?”

“Mel, this place is amazing!” Heath said. “It’s a magical building! Like, really magical!”

“That’s how it works,” Mel agreed.

“Well…what do we do now?” he asked.

“Claim your room,” Mel said, nodding toward Charlie and the group of Magi near the stairs at the rear of the building.

Charlie sauntered up the stairs to the second floor, surrounded by a knot of Magi that were loyal to her, rather than Mel. Unsurprisingly, Hal and Sylvie were there.

The [Crown of Glory] still glowed above the Necromancer’s hat, but nobody else could see it now. So long as she didn’t venture too far, Mel would know exactly where Charlie was at all times.

The Rook was clean and whole for the first time, but despite its greater square footage, it was still weak. The floorboards were polished to a glow, but the place was empty.

They had no supplies to stock the bar or the rooms. The tables were simple, round tables with plain chairs. It would suffice, but it wasn’t theirs. Not yet.

There was a lot to do if they were going to turn the Rook into their home and headquarters.

They wouldn’t be the first, nor the last, to have a mercenary company operating out of a bar, but it would be theirs.

Every Magi was far from home. Far from anything they knew or were familiar with. This was the first piece of the multiverse that truly belonged to them.

Mel intended to make it a home.

She watched each of the Magi slowly filter upstairs. Even if one of these people murdered Other Mel, I’ll find a way to make this my home.

“Are you doing okay?” Gwen asked with open concern. There never was anything particularly subtle about her.

“Not going to call dibs on your room?” Mel asked. “There are three stories. You don’t want to get stuck in the attic.”

“I’ll make a fuss if I do,” she admitted.

Mel shrugged and looked over at Shrubley talking to Logan. The little bush was still polishing the counter with a rag, even though it didn’t need it.

“I just wanted to make sure,” Gwen continued. “I wasn’t sure what happened to you, Mel. If Charlotte tricked you.”

“Trick me?” Mel laughed. “Please. You know who you’re talking to, don’t you?”

Thomas joined Gwen and Heath. He pulled up a chair by hooking his foot around a wooden leg and spinning it about. Thomas crossed his arms over the back of the chair and rested his chin on his forearms. “Who’s tricking whom?”

Gwen crossed her arms. “Fine, I know you’re a big girl.” She looked over at Thomas. “Nobody, apparently. I wasn’t sure if Miss Perfect did something sinister.”

“It really was a bad bit of luck running into that Iron,” Mel said, glancing to the side of the room that had been the wrecked potion shop just a few hours ago.

Thomas nodded. “Sa’vren.”

Mel gave him a half-lidded look. “Among all these Magi? Hardly.”

Gwen stared at Mel in confusion.

“What’s a sah–” Heath began.

“Sah-vren,” Thomas pronounced for him. “It has a lot of meanings. The Shard tends to bend probability around Sa’vren. Both good and bad. Say you had a chance of stubbing your toe as you walked across the street. A Sa’vren would stumble and somehow fall into a pit in the street that opened up into a deep well that inexplicably connected to some ancient ruins. Maybe an underwight’s barrow.”

Gwen grimaced, then opened up her inventory and dropped some loot onto the ground. She crouched, sifting through weapons and armor.

Some of them radiated the power of Iron rank.

“I don’t want to be that,” Heath said anxiously. “I’m not a Sa’vren, right? Guys? Right?!”

“Nah, probably not,” Gwen told him.

“I dunno. The odds of crossing my path were pretty slim,” Mel admitted. “How many other people were on the long dragon’s back? A hundred? Fifty at the least? I didn’t see any of them again that weren’t Magi. Just you. What’re the odds of that?”

Heath started to look a little sweaty. “But that could be you being a…thing-you-said, not me.”

“That says more about you, Mel,” Gwen agreed quietly, then shoved the lower rank items back into her goldsteel storage necklaces.

Mel rolled her eyes. “You’re all no fun.”

Thomas looked at the bar. “What’re we going to do with this place?”

Mel drummed her fingers on the table. “Hell if I know. Operating a mercenary company from here is peak aesthetic though. Maybe we’ll open it up for other people to come in, take a load off, have a drink. I told Lavo and the other mondoceros that I’d like to operate a small clinic out of the back. With the potion shop, I’m sure there’s plenty of room.”

“Will our rooms remain secure?” Gwen asked, as if Mel was in complete control of that. “I don’t want to get stab–”

Heath’s eyes went wide, staring off into the distance like that dog traumatized over a tray of frosted cupcakes.

Gwen thinned her eyes at him. “....Okaaay, I don’t want to be ambushed in the middle of the night?”

“If we keep the Rook in one spot, people will know where to find us,” Mel pointed out.

“They were always going to know where to find us,” Thomas added. “We’re not exactly low profile. Besides, a tavern could be our way of giving back. Good food, drink, a nice atmosphere. It’s harder to attack a place that the locals love. The Starling Tower has a lot going for it, including security, but they aren’t invested in our security beyond it hurting their bottom line.”

“Can’t you do some of those warding things?” Heath asked, finally snapping out of it.

Thomas nodded. “I’d like some time to commune with the Rook. I might be able to come up with something better. With all the Magi here, I have complete faith in our ability to defend our home from any threat. Need I remind you, we just wiped the street with a full party of Irons. People aren’t going to forget that.”

“Well, that makes me feel a lot more relaxed,” Gwen said, taking Thomas’ hand in hers and squeezing it. “I hope I can get another forest room. The open night sky is easy to sleep under.”

Mel looked over. “I wouldn’t bet on it. Not unless you have some magic that I don’t know about. We aren’t going to be getting much customization that we don’t do ourselves. The Rook, as far as I can tell, can alter the place to suit our desires, but it’s weak. We’ll need to level it up quite a bit before we can get on the Starling Tower’s level.”

“How do we level it up?” Heath asked.

Thomas grinned. “Eating another building seemed to do the trick.”

“I’ve no idea,” Mel admitted. “That’s something we should figure out, don’t you think?”

“What if it’s from being…y’know, whatever the Rook is supposed to be?” Heath asked. “Like, say we’re a bar–”

“Tavern,” Mel corrected.

“What’s the difference?”

“A bar serves drinks. A tavern serves drinks and food. Sometimes private dining rooms, even bedrooms.”

“Okay, say we’re a tavern.” Heath looked at Mel.

She nodded approvingly.

“Maybe we need to be a tavern, y’know? Like, maybe we need to actually sell things. Making money could be like runes of experience to the Rook.”

“Or,” Mel butted in, “it could be just like us and need to defeat something to gain experience. What if we beat somebody up inside the Rook?”

“Is there going to be a full moon soon?” Heath blurted out, as if the thought of killing somebody inside the Rook made him think of Gwen transforming and slaughtering them all.

Gwen stared down at him. “So sweet of you to ask. Are you offering to chain me down before I transform?” She leaned in. “Cause I’ll eat you first. And not in the fun way.”

“Uhhh…Wait, there’s a fun way?!”

Mel patted him on his baby smooth cheek. “Oh, you sweet summer child. You have so much to learn.”