The Brew
Viena skipped through the cobbled streets, her bunny-ear headband bobbing with each bounce, and the little earrings on her lobes chiming like silver bells. Her gait was erratic, a patchwork of sudden halts and delighted detours—each flower stand, each stray dog, each glint of glass in the sun drew her attention like a moth to a flame. And Lisabelle, firm of grip and firmer of tone, was dragged along without mercy.
"Viena," she said for what must have been the twelfth time, “you’ll tear my shoulder from its socket at this rate.”
“If you let go, I might get stolen,” the girl replied sweetly, wholly unrepentant. “Or adopted by someone who makes a lot of candies.”
Lisabelle exhaled a sigh through her nose and tightened her grasp. “And you wonder why I scold you.”
Still, though she grumbled and chastised and spoke often of instilling discipline, Lisabelle never did say no. She followed wherever Viena led—be it to a spice seller’s stall or a music box tinkling in a shop window—and answered every question the girl could conjure. Not once did complaint crease her brow. Her fingers might’ve been calloused from swordwork, but they were always gentle when wiping jam from Viena’s cheek.
“It’s almost noon,” Lisabelle said, after checking the sun’s position with the practiced eye of someone who’d marched armies across country. “We’re still only halfway to the cathedral. Come on, Vivi. You can window-shop on the way back. Your dad’s waiting.”
“Okay! Let’s save the parasol-making for later, then!” Viena chirped
Fifteen minutes later, they reached the cathedral. The clock tower by the artificial lake showed half past ten. Realizing they were late, Lisabelle turned it into a game.
“Race you to the door,” she grinned.
There was no real competition to speak of—Lisabelle, all lean muscle and seasoned grace, could’ve outrun the girl in her sleep. But she kept pace deliberately, letting Viena believe the finish line was just within reach.
“Hah! Huff! I—I win!” Lisabelle declared, panting theatrically.
“H-huff—hoek! That’s cheating!” Viena clutched her belly, on the verge of being sick.
“Says the loser.”
“You’re wearing good boots!”
Their mock-arguing echoed through the cathedral grounds. A few passersby smiled as they walked past, and just then, a familiar voice chimed from the Healing House doorway.
“Oh! Viena! It’s been a while! What are you doing here?”
Mila stepped out into the sun, a basket of neatly folded linens balanced on her hip. Her apron was spotless, as always, and her face glowed with the kind of warmth only healers seemed to carry.
“Mila!” Viena beamed. “Papa asked me to come today! Is he inside?”
“I don’t think so. He mentioned he had a meeting with the dean a little while ago. And—oh? This is?”
She looked to Lisabelle, who gave a curt, courteous nod.
“She’s my sister, Lisabelle!”
“Nice to meet you,” Lisabelle said with a smile that barely concealed her dry humor. “I’m just here to escort this little terror. Feel free to carry on—I’ll stay out of the way.”
“Oh my! I didn’t know Lord Ran had two daughters…” Mila’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “You look so mature. And sensible. A relief, really.”
She sighed, shifting the basket. “Sadly, I’m on an errand now, so I can’t chat too much. But feel free to go inside. You know the way.”
With that, Mila disappeared into the corridor, and the two sisters—though they didn’t share a drop of blood—pushed open the heavy doors and stepped into the cool, herb-scented interior.
As they walked, Lisabelle found herself asking more than she usually would. “So… what’s it like, working as a medevist’s helper?”
Viena’s face lit up. “Oh! There was one time Papa let me stitch a real wound! I was so nervous my hands shook—but the patient was super nice. He gave me a plum candy afterward.”
Lisabelle chuckled. “Paid in sweets. Must’ve been a high-end operation.”
“He said it was the best stitching he’d had in years!”
The hallway narrowed the farther they went, until at last they reached a modest door near the back—once quiet, now impossible to miss for the line of patients waiting patiently outside. Word had spread fast. Randia, for all his attempts to lie low, had quickly become the go-to name whispered in corridors and courtyards. They are mostly recurring patients or the patients' relatives who have trusted his credibility.
". . . And here we are! Papa's room!"
"It's packed with people, although not as much as the those near the front door."
"Of course! The rooms near the front door belong to the top guys! They are all old men with lots of working years! Also, they have almost a dozen assistants to help her treat multiple people at the same time!"
"Wow, they must be rich folk."
"I hope so! The work is tiring that sometimes they even fought with family member of the patient! Also, medical ingredients cost a lot you know. Nobody wants to be a medevist if all there's to it is just working hard with no rewards, and then everyone will go sick!"
Lisabelle gave a low hum and reached out, brushing a stray hair from Viena’s forehead. The bunny ears flopped with the motion, absurdly cute.
"Hm. Nicely said." she murmured. "I agree with you."
Viena knocked on the door, calling out for Willard. Hearing her voice, the man opened it and let her in. But before they could exchange a word, a sudden scream erupted from inside the room. The sharp cry startled everyone nearby—patients waiting outside hesitated, unsure if they should stay in line.
“What’s happening?” someone whispered.
“Oh, nothing. It’s just… there’s someone new here. Might be the first time you’re meeting,” Willard explained calmly.
Viena peeked inside and saw Laura, half-standing on a chair with a proud look on her face, holding a metal plier dripping with blood. A man lay on the patient’s bed, covering his mouth and sobbing uncontrollably. Then, the sharp clink of a tooth dropping into a metal container snapped Viena out of her daze.
“I–It’s the purple lady!” she whispered, eyes wide.
“Hnnngg! As I thought! You are so adorable!” Laura cooed, holding Viena firmly in her lap, peppering her cheeks with relentless kisses and smooches.
“H-Help me, Lily!” Viena squealed, squirming but unable to break free.
“Ugh…” Lisabelle groaned, stuck at the other end of the room, busy cleaning the bloody tools and scrubbing dirty clothes, while Willard tended to the patient.
“Why am I the one stuck doing chores?!” Lisabelle snapped, casting a glare toward Laura as she muttered under her breath, her words carried loud enough to startle the patient.
The patient, visibly bothered by the ruckus, leaned in and whispered to Willard, “T-They’re surely lively, aren’t they?”
Willard sighed deeply, worn thin. “Apologies, ma’am,” he said, trying to keep his composure.
Finally pushed past his limit, Willard stormed to the backdoor and kicked the trio out with surprising force. Laura, Viena, and Lisabelle stumbled into the hallway, bowing and apologizing profusely, only to have Willard slam the door behind them with a finality that left no room for argument.
Not long after, Laura burst into laughter, her amusement infectious. Viena and Lisabelle soon joined in, their giggles echoing down the corridor. Without wasting a moment, Laura grabbed their hands and led them to the cathedral park.
"W-What’s wrong with them?" Viena asked, wide-eyed as the birds acted up around them.
Laura giggled mischievously, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Oh, I mixed a little something fun into their bread! Tee-hee!"
Lisabelle’s eyes narrowed. "T-That’s cruel!"
Laura waved her off with a grin. "Relax, it’s harmless! They’ll be back to normal in five minutes. It’s just like cats going wild on catnip or birds caught in a feeding frenzy over berries. And deer? They love munching on red amanita mushrooms to get a little buzzed."
Viena’s curiosity won over suspicion. "Really? You’re not just making that up to cover your mischief?"
Laura shrugged with a mock-offended smile. "Hey! I might be a handful, but I’m not a liar."
Lisabelle smirked. "This must be one of those rare moments then."
"No way! Why would I lie to you?" Laura shot back, her eyes sparkling.
She then pulled out three small powders from her pouch. "Here, see these? Each one does something different. I use them for experiments—animal behavior, stuff no one’s really studying seriously yet. It’s a new field I want universities to take up, right here on Seraina."
Laura’s voice dropped to a playful, conspiratorial tone. "Imagine you’re stranded in the wild, weak and with nothing but a small knife. What do you do? Chase a rabbit that’s twice your speed? Wrestle a bison that could crush you like a twig? Or… maybe you toss a little powder and wait for roasted pheasant legs to pouring from the sky like rain?"
Viena burst out laughing, picturing the absurd scene.
Laura winked. "Exactly. Crazy, right? But what if you did know how to make food paralyze animals with just a pinch of mushroom and a bit of resin? That changes everything."
Lisabelle rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "So… you’re studying poison?"
Laura scoffed. "Poison? No way! I call it Research on Special Ingredient Properties — RSIP. ‘Poison’ sounds too dark and criminal. Nobody would fund that!"
Lisabelle rolled her eyes. "Sure… tomato, tomato."
Viena tilted her head. "Wasn’t it potato, potato?"
Laura gave them a mock glare. "Ahem!"
Suddenly, Laura pushed herself up from the bench and motioned for Lisabelle and Viena to follow. They crossed the far side of the lake, to a quiet, seldom-visited corner where only the most tireless children ventured. Here, nestled beneath the shadow of ancient trees, stood a modest playground — the only one in the entire cathedral grounds.
Viena’s eyes sparkled with excitement. She had seen this spot from afar many times but never dared approach it. Randia had always warned her not to wander too far from the main building. Now, finally free to explore, she eagerly tried everything: the swings, the climbing ropes, the rickety wooden bridge.
For the first half-hour, Lisabelle played alongside her, matching Viena’s boundless energy. But the crowd of other children quickly overwhelmed her — too many little hands tugging, climbing on her back, making her head spin. She sighed and eased herself onto an empty swing nearby, where Laura was already nursing a drink alone.
“Damn kids,” Lisabelle muttered, blowing out a long breath. “They get way too excited over this stuff.”
Laura smirked. “You’re always complaining, but I’ve never heard you say no to any of them. Got a soft spot under all that grumpiness?”
Lisabelle snorted. "Oh, shut up."
"Hey, come to think of it, you look pretty taller than the last time we met."
Laura glanced and noticed how much taller Laura looked compared to the last time they’d met.
“I think so. Not that I care—height’s a gift no matter what.”
Laura swung back and forth on the creaky swing, the breeze tousling her hair as she took a long pull from the canteen of booze resting at her side. Lisabelle followed suit, savoring the cool wind on her face.
“Wish the kids would grow as tall as you,” Laura said, her voice thick from the booze, “because one of them might not be able to.”
“Are you talking about Viena?” Lisabelle asked, frowning.
“Hah, that’s not the problem. She can be as small as you want if it were up to me.”
“I’m not talking about her height, Lisabelle.”
“Huh? Then what do you mean?”
Laura’s smile faded. “...Do you remember what I asked her the first time we met?”
Lisabelle stared into the distant gray sky. Despite it being the highest point of noon, thick clouds choked the sun’s light. Months ago—she suddenly recalled—Laura had asked if Viena was sick.
“...Is my sister sick?” Lisabelle asked softly.
“Hm, I don’t really know,” Laura admitted.
Irritated by Laura’s half-hearted answer, Lisabelle grabbed Laura's swing hard until she nearly toppled.
“Ugh! Why’d you do that?” Laura grumbled.
“Is my sister sick, Laura?” Lisabelle demanded.
.
.
.
“Do you know what Yarna is, Lisabelle?”