Mae's grumbling about her cramped little single room died down only after Lira gave her a sharp look and I suggested she join us instead of sulking.
True to form, she immediately perked up, declaring that her "magnanimous master" was clearly more generous than her "stingy old colleague." Lira nearly spat her drink at the word master, but Mae only smirked.
Once things settled, I returned to my studies. My handwriting was still clumsy, my letters uneven, but I was determined to keep improving. Mae said nothing, though her eyes followed the scratching of my quill across the page with keen curiosity.
Meanwhile, Lira had cleverly anticipated Mae's attention span. She pulled out several of the tomes we had retrieved from the Arcane Marksman's ruin. At the sight of the diagrams, the notes, the intricate spell matrices, Mae's eyes went wide. Within moments, she was kneeling by the table, hovering over the open books like a starving dog presented with a feast.
"Do you have any idea what you're holding here?" Mae whispered reverently, flipping through a section that outlined specialized ammunition channels. "These schematics, if half of them are workable, I could arm an entire city with weapons that sing mana through their barrels. Gods above, Lira, why did you not tell me sooner?"
"Because if I had," Lira replied dryly, "you would have run off to pawn your soul at the nearest dice table before I could stop you."
Mae didn't even argue. She merely gave a sheepish grin and returned to poring over the diagrams. The two of them debated enchantment structures for nearly an hour, their voices rising and falling in excited bursts. I continued practicing quietly, soaking in fragments of their discussion even if much of it flew over my head.
When dinner arrived, roasted meat served with crisp greens and a surprisingly decent red wine, the conversation slowed just enough for us to eat.
Mae devoured her plate with gusto, humming appreciatively, while Lira and I shared the occasional smile across the table. For a brief moment, it felt almost like a strange little family meal.
Afterward, Mae announced with a flourish that it was time for my "true education." She had been taken with my growing bourbon collection and insisted I must learn how to appreciate it properly. My set of perfect-temperature glasses became the immediate star of the conversation.
"Unbelievable craftsmanship," Mae muttered, turning one over in her small but capable hands. "A glass that regulates the heat of its contents without runes, without sigils, without external mana input? Master, if you don't let me take this apart eventually, I might actually wither away."
"You're not taking apart my bourbon glass," I said firmly.
"Master is cruel," she pouted, before filling the glass with a dark amber pour.
She began with the basics: how to swirl, to inhale, to catch the subtle notes of oak and smoke. I tried to follow, though most of what I noticed was that it burned less when I sipped slowly.
Mae's descriptions, however, painted entire landscapes: rolling fields of corn, charred barrels resting in candlelit cellars, and the sharp bite of winter air preserved in liquid form.
Not to be outdone, Lira leaned against me, producing two cigars from the variety box she had purchased earlier that day. She offered one with a mischievous smile. "If you're going to indulge like a pompous lord, you might as well go all the way."
She showed me how to cut the end, how to draw without inhaling, how the smoke mingled with the bourbon to create a richer, deeper flavor. With her arm draped around me and her soft laugh tickling my ear, I really did feel like some smug aristocrat flaunting wealth I didn't have.
"Careful, baby," Lira teased, "get too comfortable like this and you might forget what real work feels like."
Mae raised her glass in mock salute. "Oh no, he's already a master. Real work is for the servants."
Lira shot her a glare. "Stop calling him that."
"Why?" Mae asked innocently, sipping her bourbon. "It's the truth, isn't it? I'm contractually bound. If he tells me to polish his boots while he lounges with his cigar, I'll have no choice but to obey."
I coughed, nearly spilling my drink, while Lira groaned. "You're incorrigible."
"And you're jealous," Mae sang, clearly enjoying every second of the provocation.
The bickering only ended when Mae, perhaps sensing she'd pushed far enough, reached into her tool belt. From a hidden pocket, she produced a tiny figure, no taller than my palm. made of gleaming mythril.
"This," she said proudly, placing it before me, "is my personal golem."
The doll's craftsmanship was exquisite, its joints so fine they were nearly invisible. Even as it sat motionless, I could sense faint threads of mana woven through it.
Mae tapped it on the head, and the little figure bowed stiffly.
"It works because of programming magic," she explained, her tone suddenly serious. "You see, every piece of it is numbered, every joint, every plate, every rune. I assign values to its parts, then write 'commands' into its core crystal. Action, response. Condition, output. Much like your writing practice, except instead of sentences on paper, you're stringing instructions into reality."
She held the doll up so I could see the etched runes glowing faintly beneath its surface. "With enough complexity, a golem can perform highly advanced tasks. Guard duty, forging, cataloguing, even research assistance. I have dozens in my workshop back on the academy sky-island. Some manage my tools. Some roll dice when I need a distraction."
"Of course," Lira muttered, rolling her eyes.
Mae ignored her. "For you, Master, programming magic will be invaluable. You have the aptitude. In time, I expect you to be able to craft and code your own assistants. Imagine a squad of mythril helpers, each tuned precisely to your needs."
"Sounds useful," I admitted, carefully turning the doll over in my hands. "But also… overwhelming."
"It will be," Mae said without apology. "But then, you're no ordinary student."
The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. I took another sip of bourbon, savoring the heat and the faint sweetness.
Lira leaned closer, her cheek brushing mine. "She's right, baby. With what you've already achieved, it's only a matter of time before you outpace the academy's expectations. Just don't let her turn you into another gambling addict in the process."
Mae gasped dramatically. "Master, your woman slanders me!"
"She's not wrong," Lira retorted.
I chuckled, caught between their endless sparring. "If I end up with a dozen golems who all want to play dice, I'll know who to blame."
Mae clapped her hands. "Now that is the kind of project I can get behind!"
Lira groaned again, but even she was smiling.
The evening wore on with more banter, more sips of bourbon, more clouds of cigar smoke curling toward the ceiling. For the first time since leaving Arcadia, I felt as though I had stepped fully into a new life, one filled with danger, yes, but also with discovery, strange companionship, and unexpected warmth.