Chapter 1: With Peace comes a New…Witch? (1)
"Wake up, Lazy Old Man! Wake up, Lazy Old Man!"
Demond groaned and rolled over, his eyes squinting against the blinding sunlight that had somehow managed to sneak past his curtains. The incessant chanting grew louder, sharp shrieks that announced a new beginning to yet another sweltering day of 'making breakfast, then sleeping again', the perfect life for a retired, old mage, the dreams of a modern man's 'economically self-sufficient' plan.
"Wake up, Old Man! Old man? Stupid old man! Perverted Old Man! Wake up!"
"That last one is really uncalled for..." Demond, the pervert groaned as he rolled over in his bed. His limbs creaked as his beard fell onto the floor, a testament to his laziness for trimming. With a bit of grudge, he stared at his 'daughter-voiced' alarm clock, a parrot he'd named Pippy, which was currently dancing on the windowsill, flapping its wings and squawking to the rhythm of the morning chorus.
"Wakey wakey! Time for peace and your v-card gone!"
Chuckling in defeat, the old man pushed himself out of bed, his ancient bones protesting every inch of the way. He stretched his long, wrinkled arms, his hands reaching for the heavens in a silent plea for the strength to endure the day ahead. The parrot, seemingly satisfied with its performance, took a dramatic bow, its feathers fluttering gracefully in the early morning breeze.
Yet unbefitting the grace of an old mage, as he stepped out of his bed, his step slipped on a bundle of straw-like material, his head smacking the edge of the bed. As his sour throat groaned, he realised his long beard had a new accessory—a crumpled footprint.
"Clumsy Old Man! Dummy Old-Aaaaaaah!"
Demond's grumble was cut short by a shriek from Pippy, as the petty old mage reflexively threw a fireball at the ceiling, narrowly missing the parrot. The flaming projectile created a small explosion, showering the room with sparks and dust. The blast knocked a few scrolls off their precarious perches, and they fluttered down like leaves in an autumn breeze.
"One more, parrot. And we will have you for dinner tonight." Demond's eyes narrowed into slits, the playfulness gone as he bent down to pick up his beard. He examined the footprint with a furrowed brow, then turned to glower at the bird. "Any guest today?"
Pippy ruffled her feathers, looking innocent. "None! None! Stay in your house, Old Man!" she squawked, clearly enjoying the little game she played every morning.
Sighing, Demond picked up his beard from the floor, shaking off the dust and reattach it to his chin with a magical twirl of his fingers. The parrot cackled, flapping its wings in excitement as it watched the display of magic. Despite his grumbling, the old mage couldn't help but feel a spark of energy as he went through the motions of his morning routine.