The Reborn Witch had a nice 'Tea Time' with the Dragon Queen today-Chapter 3: With Peace comes a New…Witch? ()

A silence grew with tension, as the mage slowly closed his eyes, his mana spread beyond the old hut, across his garden, reaching out into the nearby forest. He searched, his senses attuned to any sign of trouble. His heart hammered in his chest, his breakfast forgotten. It was not before his sight was set on the sky, that he finally, calmly opened his eyes.

"Pippy." Demond called out, his voice firm yet calm. The parrot, who had been quietly watching the exchange, fluttered over to him, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. "I thought we had no visitor today."

Pippy looked at him, his expression was that of a saddened child who had just realized their playtime was over. "Old Man! Outside! Danger! Death!"

Then as if in hesitation for his master's caution, Pippy stated again. "Stay in your house! Stay in your house!"

The old man gazed at the parrot with a mix of amusement and concern. "Death you say?" He leaned back in his chair, stroking his beard thoughtfully. The pixy's light grew fainter, her fear palpable in the still air of the kitchen.

"Right." The old man stretched his limb, as if the so-called death outside was just another mischievous pixy that needed to be shooed away. He stood up, his knees crackling like dry twigs. "I need to reply to my dear daughter. Peace banquet isn't really my thing but..."

He petted the parrot, who seemed to understand the seriousness of the situation and flew to his shoulder, her eyes darting to the door, then back to him. The pixy hovered near the window, her glow dimming to a faint blue as she peeked outside, her wings beating a frantic tattoo against the stillness of the room.

"Pixy." The glowing, mischievous creature looked at him with wide, terrified eyes. "It would seem our guest wishes for a...quiet meeting. Would you mind telling your friends in the forest to scurry away for somewhere safe? Let's see...right, the Cave for the Resting Wolves would do. Tell them it is I who sent you."

The pixy nodded vigorously, and with a flash of light, she disappeared, leaving behind a trail of shimmering dust that danced in the shafts of morning sunlight. Demond watched her go, his expression unreadable. He turned to Pippy. "Now, bird. Time to prove your worth. Get my staff, a pen and some papers. We'll play scribe and save the World once again, won't we?"

Pippy squawked in what could only be interpreted as a yes, and took off towards the bedroom. The old mage took a deep breath, the air thick with the scent of his own magic and the anticipation of the unknown. The peacefulness outside was eerie, a stark contrast to the panic within. The silence was broken only by the distant sounds of his parrot friend scouring his room for the required tools.

His eyes smiled as the parrots flew back to him again, his table above now floated bubbles of his parrot's making. Inside them were neatly placed parchments, a pen, and his favorite staff. It was a gnarled piece of wood, polished smooth by time and use, with no fancy runes or crystals adorning it. Just a simple, reliable staff that had seen him through many battles, more hangovers and his first wonder for the magic instead of tools from modern times.

The old mage sighed as he sat back down. His hand now drawn into the bubbles as he picked from them the pen and papers. "Let's see...Dear Alice..."

As if patient for his command, the quill hovered above the parchment, the ink inside glowing with anticipation. Demond took a deep breath, focusing his mana, and began to scribble his response. Each word conveyed a sentiment of love, pride, and a hint of teasing. He had always been a man of few words, but when it came to his daughter, he could fill a library with his thoughts.

"...and so if you dare touch the queen, you will face my wrath which will last a millennium longer than your existence, darling daughter." With a chuckle, Demond finished his letter, sealing it with a dab of wax from the candle flaming on the table. The candle, untouched by the pixy's glow, had been burning steadfastly since the dawn of the day.

"Now then, Pippy. My old friend." Demond whispered the parrot, who now hang on his shoulder. The parrot has seen wars, and wars had seen Demond, and she knew better than to interrupt his thoughts. The room grew still as the old man's eyes took on a faraway look, his hand hovering over the letter, his mind racing with thoughts of the banquet, his daughter, and the past fault that finally came back to him once again.

He held the finished letter to the parrot, smiling with regrets. "Do take care of my daughter, would you?"

Pippy took the letter with her foot, holding it as if it was the most precious treasure. Her eyes gleamed with understanding, yet her head shook. Her master is about to die, and yet he jokes. "No, Old Man," she squawked solemnly.

The old mage chuckled, the sound echoing through the room, a stark contrast to the tension that had just settled in. "Ah, my dear parrot. I wish this is a manga where we can march on blazing in the fire together, but alas, this isn't fiction."

His gaze, before it was casual, friendly and loosed, now sharpened and focused, as he uttered. "Your final, resting place is not here, nor today. Take this letter to Alice, tell her I'm coming. Be sure to...to tell her I am safe, yes, safe and sound. And tell her to keep you fed instead of forgetting all the time. That's an order from your master, you know?"

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The parrot looked at him, her eyes shining with intelligence. Nodding in reluctance, she squeaked as her wings spread wide. With a beat, she took off, the envelope secure in her beak.

The old man chuckled, as his hand trembled slightly, watching Pippy vanish into the distance. "What is with me today? Always telling others not to set up death flags and yet...hehehe..."

He took a deep breath, his eyes scanning the messy room. "Alright, let's do this. Time to clean up a bit first."

With a wave of his hand, Demond sent a gust of wind sweeping through the room, scattering dust and papers in every direction. He muttered under his breath, casting a simple cleaning spell. The dust bunnies grew in size and scurried away to hide under the bed, while the scrolls and tomes hovered back to their designated places. The kitchen sparkled with magic as the broom swept the floor with ease of a professional servant, the dishes washing themselves.

As the room was now squeaky clean, his eyes hovered over to a photo revealed on the ground. A young Alice, crossing her shoulders and puffing, her cheeks red with pride and mischief. It was the day she had managed to cast her first spell without setting the kitchen on fire. The memory brought a warm smile to his face, but the smile was short-lived.

With a resolve to face the impending danger, Demond shuffled to the door as he picked his stafff from the floating bubble. His hand, now steady with age-old instincts, wrapped around the wooden grip, feeling the familiar warmth and power of his life's companion.

The fresh air of the forest filled Demond's lungs as he opened the door, the scent of dew-kissed leaves and distant campfires a stark contrast to the mustiness of his hut. He took a moment to appreciate the serenity, before he looked up to the shadowy, looming threat of the dragon above his head.

Contary to the fiery gaze, the dragon was calm, almost serene. It hovered just beyond the treeline, watching him with eyes that seemed to hold the wisdom of centuries. The creature's scales shimmered in the early light, casting a spectrum of colors across the clearing. Demond felt the familiar rush of adrenaline, but it was tinged with something new—respect.

"Adrei. It has been a while." Demond spoke softly to the dragon, his voice carrying through the clearing. He knew the creature could hear him despite the distance.

The golden dragon, Adrei, dipped its head slightly, a gesture that could be mistaken for a nod if one didn't know better. It had been decades since Demond had last faced such a creature, yet here she was, now as solemn as a wise queen should be.