“We should celebrate Christmas.”
Rose had been lounging on Artur’s couch, munching cookies in silence for hours, only to drop a ridiculous bomb like this on him.
“Rose, we are warlocks, serving an eldritch creature from outside of our plane of existence. We’re the furthest you can be from people that should celebrate Christmas. Hell, you barely qualify as people in the first place.”
Rose huffs sitting up to better cross her arms. Her dress should have been a hint at what’s to come: it’s solid red, with a thin white strip lining the bottom hem and a white shawl covering her otherwise exposed shoulders.
While it seemed plain enough when he first laid eyes on it, now that he knows what’s up, it’s distinctly and undeniably christmassy. Makes him want to gag.
“You can be a real jerk, you know.”
Of course he knows.
“Actually, the gall you have, calling me inhuman, when you’re… Well, when you’re you.”
She’s pouting now and he didn’t mean to be the cause of that. Not like this. Not about something that’s outside her control.
“Look, I just… I’m not in the mood for festivities. Much less festivities of some religious group I left behind ages ago.”
This gets her to stop glaring at him, as she opts to roll her eyes instead. Is this an improvement?
“Christmas isn’t about being Christian, you dummy. It’s about consumerism – as someone pacted to an eldritch creature of consumption, you should know this.”
As always, she got it all wrong.
Or maybe she didn’t. Maybe she is closer to the truth than all those humans frantically swarming the inner cities in search of suitable presents could ever hope to be.
“As a creature of consumption, I feel more than eligible to participate in Christmas.”
He groans at that. No talking her out of it with logic then, is there?
“It’s barely two days past the solstice. I—“
“Exactly. You’ve been moping ever since Agatha did the ritual without you, so now we’re doing our own ritual and the ritual we’re doing is Christmas.”
Rose walks up to him as she speaks, jabbing her finger at his chest.
“We’re having Unnie-Christmas and you’ll have to help this poor non-human creature make it a reality considering you’re oh so much better at being a human and have all that Unnie life experience on top of it.”
She’s like a dog with a bone.
“You know, I bet Wyatt knows all about Christmas. I’m sure he wouldn’t min-“
“You are not delegating your social responsibilities to a subordinate, Artur. You can invite the whole squad if you want, but if you flake, I’ll… eat your dreams or something.”
The threat is oddly specific and with Rose being Rose… can she consume dreams? Is getting your dreams eaten a bad thing in the first place?
“Now. We need to order a tree. And have you noticed that your fireplace ran out of wood an hour ago?”
Artur isn’t sure if you can order a Christmas tree the same way Rose is used to ordering dresses and other nick-nacks online. Then again… it’s been almost two months since their ritual got sabotaged into oblivion and there isn’t much of a reason for Rose to stay in Headquarters all day anymore.
She could leave.
He could take her out to see the real world.
Do human things.
She’d deserve it after living the sheltered life all this time.
“I suppose going out to get a Christmas tree could be a welcome distraction…”
Why did he suggest that? Agatha left him with enough work to comfortably drown himself in it for… for a while. Long enough until… until what?
As expected, Rose jumps up and down, squealing in joy once she fully fathoms his suggestion.
“Now you’re getting it!”
So that’s what this is. A distraction for him, then. Somehow that’s worse, because of course Rose wasn’t thinking about herself with this ridiculous request.
He sighs.
And of course she won’t be happy unless he can pretend that she fixed him.
“Alright. Other people’s religious rituals as a fun winter excursion it is.”
He tries to put cheer into his words, but his attempt falls flat. He’s not used to feigning emotion.
With one last look at the stack of reports in front of him, he gets up. Normally, it would be Nina’s job to sort through them to figure out if anything fishy happened during the solstice, but with all of his newfound freetime, he never bothered to delegate the work onward.
Two years ago, they’d caught a group of students with some unholy ritual attempt, and tearing apart their hard work before tearing apart their fragile minds had been a delight.
If he had found any hint at what he was looking for today, he would have gone out to deal with it without the rest of his squad. He isn’t in the mood to share.
Rose has already draped her cloak over the ridiculous dress, pulling on long, white gloves that stand at stark contrast to its black fabric. Those aren’t their standard-issue gloves at all. He doubts they’re enchanted to withstand combat, even.
“Did you at least put a heating spell on those?”
They make their way to the exit of his office, and he grabs his coat in favor of his cultist cloak. While Rose will be standing out like a sore thumb, she’s still young enough to pass as an eccentric teen if you squint a little.
“No. It’s not really cold out anymore. Have you looked outside today at all or have you been spending all day cooped up in your own head?”
“I was working.”
“Mhm.”
She snakes her arm through his, tugging him through the abandoned halls of their headquarters. Unless someone summoned something fishy during the solstice, the following days are usually far too boring for most to bother doing much of anything. It’s a time to relax and revel in the safety of the newly refreshed warding spells, guarding one’s home after a solstice-ritual well done.
How much longer would Agatha permit him to call Headquarters his home?
“So, I guess you haven’t found any sort of apocalypse cult that you can violently apprehend?”
“None. People are getting too smart to trust random ancient occult texts, I guess. Or believe in magic.”
They exit the front doors and Rose had been right.
While thick snow covered the area in front of Headquarters for the past few days, it’s now in an unappetizing state of decay. Thick, brown sludge bakes underneath a clear winter sky, and the air is far from crispy.
He takes a hold of Rose’s arm to teleport her, but she squirms out of his grasp.
“I’m not a child!”
“We’re not going to our inner city.”
He’s not about to get caught shopping for Christmas trees by another cult member. They’re going anywhere but into Bremen’s inner city. He’ll whisk their tree into Headquarters and then straight into an ashtray as soon as it’s done serving its purpose.
Appeased, Rose lets him take her along through his teleportation.
They end up in Paderborn. It’s the city that started a lot of his trouble, but there’s no chance he’ll run into his newfound rival here.
No.
Julian fucking Rotenhahn is most certainly busy not being here, because he’s busy being where Agatha is.
“Interesting choice of city,” Rose comments with her eyebrows vanishing beneath her bangs.
“I know it well enough from visiting the Kronholms.” Although Walter and him would never go out and terrorize the streets this close to his home. Usually, they went out of town for their recreational needs. It’s never a good idea to shit where you eat.
Still, he remembers one of the local supermarkets closely enough to teleport into a grove close to it, where their arrival is hidden from prying Unnie eyes.
Constant traffic has turned the snow covering the parking lot into an unappetizing paste. A section of the parking lot has been partitioned off for the Christmas tree seller to set up shop and three stalls next to the entrance offer hot beverages and street food in a lackluster imitation of a Christmas market.
When he was a kid, he and his classmates used to sneak out of school to find shady adults, willing to buy them the hot chocolate with rum at a profit from those stands. In later years, after Agatha had started his training, it had gotten much easier to be convincing. Unnie minds are ridiculously easy to coerce.
“Are you coming?”
Rose has stepped past him, prancing impatiently in the surrounding slush. A car drives by way too fast, considering they’re in a parking lot, and she has to dodge out of the way of a muddy shower. Artur has half a mind going after the driver, but then she wipes a glob of mud off her cloak and licks her fingers and he has to suppress a shudder because, really, he isn’t the true monster between the two of them.
Maybe that’s why Agatha is leaving him.
Why she left him?
Rose grabs one of his hands and drags him with her towards the Christmas trees. Except they have to pass the little stalls and of course she can’t get past them without stopping to sniff at the foods they offer.
“Burned almonds are very traditional, I believe.”
She stares up at him expectantly and he pulls his wallet out from underneath his coat, getting her a candied apple on top of the bag of almonds because she’s an insatiable black hole of eldritch magic, and this way at least one of them is happy.
Since juggling both foods is easier said than done, she stashes the almonds in her cloak pocket and begins with the apple, finally honing in on the Christmas trees.
“We can get a pretty big one. The ballroom has a gigantic ceiling. I’m pretty sure that with Christmas trees, bigger is better. That’s, like, the only measure you can go by to judge a Christmas tree’s quality.”
She’s not quite right about that.
“You also have to care about how nicely it fills out. You don’t want some spindly thing with barely a branch on it.”
He hadn’t spent many Christmasses with his parents, but he clearly remembers his mother fussing about the sorry excuse of a tree his father had brought home one day.
‘Barely any branches to put candles on,’ she had said. ‘Now the Meyers will think we can’t afford a proper tree.’
“That makes sense! So we tell them that we’re looking for a huge, fluffy tree. It’ll be easy.”
Rose grins at him before frowning. “Can you talk to them?”
Artur snorts at her because she’s being ridiculous again, so he can’t just agree silently. Then, he approaches the Christmas tree seller who is still busy with another customer.
“Oh, and my mother has been sick for the past two weeks,” the lady trying to buy a tree sighs, slumping her shoulders. “So we’d need something for that on top of Simon’s grades issue. Is that too much for a single tree to handle or do you think we can get some good-luck-healing combo package?”
The salesperson nods sympathetically and Artur is lost. By now, Rose has crept up to him again, leaning over to whisper in his ear.
“This didn’t come up in my research about Christmas trees.”
That’s because it’s nonsense. Except the salesperson is acting like she understands that strange lady’s request.
“Maybe it’s some weird New Age bullshit.”
Or… or Unnie superstition has taken on a whole new level in the two decades since he last saw a Christmas tree.
His parents sure never believed in any weird healing powers like that.
It would be fine. He’d bullshit his way through the encounter, and if all failed, he’d charm the shopkeeper into giving them a fitting tree. Show her what real magic felt like.
“Why are you laughing?”
Oh. He hadn’t noticed.
“Just… I guess I haven’t had much chance to stretch my legs recently. Going a bit stir crazy.”
When was his last relevant fight? When had he last faced off against an enemy that offered him a challenge or at the very least some entertainment?
Recently, all the action seems to sidestep him.
At some point during their musings, the previous customer got two teenage boys to carry her newly bought Christmas tree off to their car, leaving Artur and Rose alone with the merchant already in their faces.
“Good evening. Do you need help or are you just looking around for now?”
“Ah, yes. We would like to buy a Christmas tree. A large one, if possible.”
This is going smoothly enough. The seller nods enthusiastically.
“Yes, yes. We have several large trees in stock. But as you surely read, these aren’t just any old Christmas trees. They’re magical Christmas trees, because Christmas is magic.”
Artur is pretty sure that there’s a huge load of blasphemy in that sentence. This doesn’t deter the woman from continuing her sales pitch.
“So, what are you looking for? Good luck? Happiness? Love?”
She waggles her eyebrows at the last word, and next to him, Rose hisses with a little cut-throat gesture as if he wouldn’t notice.
“One moment.”
Instead of answering this ridiculousness, he pulls Rose back a step where the Unnie can’t hear their discussion.
“Different tree seller?”
They can still teleport to some other town.
“Nah. I think it’s like a game – like some weird Unnie convention. We should play along.” Rose bounces up and down, excitement sparkling in her eyes.
Maybe he should call Wyatt. He’s been an Unnie much longer than Artur has.
But that would be silly. He’s not calling for help to figure out stupid Unnie rituals.
“Just ask for happiness. Happiness is always good.” Rose nudges him closer to the tree seller again. Her argument is sound enough.
“We have decided,” he starts. “We’ll take the biggest happiness tree you got.”
The seller nods enthusiastically, waving them along to the back, past the smaller specimens. This may be the biggest sale of her day.
“How about this one? It fills out beautifully and has strong and sturdy branches all the way to the top. This tree will hold all of your baubles easily on top of all the happiness that is already in there.”
Artur really couldn’t care less and he’s not about to risk Rose finding a reason to keep browsing, so he’s quick to agree.
“Great. We’ll take it.”
At a sign from the seller, a burly man walks over and drags the tree to a contraption, packaging it snugly into a thinly meshed net, while Artur pays for something he means to banish into oblivion the next day.
“You need help carrying it to the car?” He offers, and Artur shakes his head, casting a minor lightening spell on the tree.
“We got this. Rose?”
“Yup!”
She skips over, grabs a hold of the bottom half of the tree, and together they carry it off.
As soon as they’re back in the little grove, away from prying eyes, she sets her end of the tree onto the ground and gives him a wide grin.
“It’s a great tree. Thanks for that. You teleport it home while I pick up Lissy. She’ll need someone to let her into Headquarters. Oh, and can you pick up some baubles as well? See ya!”
And she teleports away, leaving him alone with the tree and no way to decline the task of buying baubles.
Distraction may be a great idea, but this is going too far. And she invited Lissy to the party as well. He pulls out his phone, hitting the speed dial button with Nina’s number.
Nina takes her sweet time answering the phone.
“I’m on vacation,” she greets him.
“I don’t care. Rose decided to celebrate Christmas and she’s picking up Lissy as we speak. I need another adult, pronto.”
There’s silence and he takes the phone from his ear to check if the connection broke. Then—
“Artur, I’ve never celebrated Christmas in my life. I’m with my grandparents. In Russia. I’m not coming to babysit for you. Wyatt’s an adult and he knows how to Unnie. Get him to help.”
Something clicks and his phone beeps with an empty line. The nerve of her. Maybe he should promote Wyatt to second in command in favor of her while he’s at it.
Except Wyatt is still new at all this, while Nina is good at her job, so replacing her because of this would be petty — so that’s a strong maybe, all things considered, depending on how awful the rest of the day gets.
He dials Wyatt’s number and like Nina, he takes a moment to answer. Contrary to her, he’s much more apologetic about it.
“Hey, sorry, we’re doing this whole Christmas thing so I didn’t have my phone on me and—”
“I don’t care. Rose is completely out of control and having a Christmas party, so I need you to be at headquarters asap,” Artur interrupts him, because he really doesn’t need to listen to a bunch of excuses for something ultimately irrelevant.
“But I’m currently celebrating with my f-”
“That’s an order. And we need baubles, so since you’re the only one with quick access to those, bring them along. Cool, see you later.”
And Artur hangs up. He’s Agatha’s student and he’s a Sotalach, and if he wants to order his subordinates to a Christmas party, he isn’t going to let a second one decline him.
With a deep breath, he lifts the Christmas tree with a telekinesis spell and teleports back to Headquarters.
Once the tree is in the ballroom, Artur buries its stem in the floor. He’ll have to remember to fix the damage later. Since no one was planning an actual party, the room is completely empty – no tables, no chairs, no fancy decorations. Rose will have to live with whatever Wyatt brings along.
Speaking of who… how long does it take to grab a box of baubles and teleport over?
Artur is pacing up and down in front of the tree when Wyatt nudges open the door to the ballroom, carrying a large cardboard box.
“Sorry, my mom duplicated the whole box since they didn’t want to send me off with the only decorations we have.”
Of course the art of duplication wouldn’t be lost to insanely successful business people.
Wyatt sets the box down in front of the tree, taking in its full height.
“Your parents need to learn that some sacrifices are necessary when you want to be part of a successful cult.”
“They’re placing a huge international shipping business at your disposal.”
Wyatt crosses his arms, drawing up an eyebrow, and Artur shrugs.
“They already had that business when they joined. It’s not like they’re out in the field, getting their hands dirty.”
At this, Wyatt relaxes with an airy laugh.
“Well, that’s what I’m here for. Let’s decorate that tree then?”
Wyatt grabs a bauble and hangs it on the tree, so Artur does the same. When he goes in for the next one, Wyatt inhales as if he’s about to say something, but then doesn’t, continuing his task in silence.
A few times, Artur expects Wyatt to speak, but he keeps shaking his head instead. Then, he sighs.
“So, why does Rose want to celebrate Christmas? Is this another attempt at playing a regular human, now that the ritual won’t come to pass anymore?”
If Wyatt thinks Rose is doing this for herself, then there’s no sense in admitting that she’s doing it because she wants to help Artur, so he doesn’t.
“I may have known the kid pretty much since she started existing, but that doesn’t mean I understand her,” he shrugs, feigning ignorance.
“Well, this is a nice team building exercise if anything. It’s not like I was looking forward to spending Christmas being forced to socialize with whatever important business partners my parents invited this year. I already forgot their names ag- Oh!”
Wyatt straightens up with a strange ornament in hand.
“Is that a… tiny wizard?” Artur can tell, but he asks regardless. Because it doesn’t make any sense.
Wyatt grimaces at the ornament.
“My dad is really into wizards. Like, obsessively so.”
They both stare at it, as it spins slowly on its string.
“But…” Artur chuckles. Why is this so funny? “Your parents are literally warlocks.”
Wyatt can’t suppress a chortle.
“I know. It’s from before my family joined the cult. He never let go of it.”
He digs through the box, pulling out a scantily clad lady with a wand. Up until that moment, Artur had no idea that sexy witch Christmas ornaments were a thing. Both of them break out into laughter.
What is wrong with him?
No. What is wrong with Wyatt’s father? That’s the question he should be asking.
Next to him, Wyatt is wheezing, causing another wave of laughter to overtake him.
“What is going on here?”
Rose is standing in the open doorway, holding a baker’s tray wrapped in paper and a bottle of wine, and staring wide-eyed at both Artur and Wyatt as they attempt to get a hold of themselves.
When neither of them stops laughing, she crosses the distance towards them. From the tray in her arms, waft the wintery smells of cinnamon and anise.
“Why are you two giggling like schoolgirls? And who in the world taught you how to decorate a Christmas tree? This is all wrong.”
She sets down the food and begins shuffling around the tree, taking baubles off only to hang them up somewhere else. It doesn’t take Artur long to figure out that she exclusively moves the ones that he put up, and that just makes him laugh harder.
Wyatt definitely noticed whatever he did wrong and didn’t have the heart to tell him, didn’t he? Fucking sycophant.
“The larger baubles go on the bottom so that they don’t bend the smaller branches at the top,” Rose explains as she bends down to pick up more ornaments from the box. Wyatt is helping her again, barely suppressing his continued chuckles. Meanwhile, Artur has given up on having a regular evening, opting to magic the cork out of the wine bottle. There are glasses in the cabinets lining one wall of the ballroom, but he doesn’t bother with them.
He’s about a third into the bottle when Rose notices.
“Can you get started on lighting the candles, Wy- HEY!” She snatches the bottle from his hands, anger sparking in her eyes. “Stop that. We’re being civilized tonight.”
Well, how is he supposed to survive the evening if he isn’t even allowed to finish the wine himself? What with there being a gigantic Christmas tree in the middle of their cult headquarters and with having to babysit Lissy and—
“Wait. Didn’t you say you were going to pick up Lissy?”
For a moment, Artur sobers, all the laughter having magically dried up again at the thought of having to chase a teen through Headquarters if she decided to go exploring. And isn’t that just like her?
“I needed an excuse to slip away and pick up the cake.” Rose nudges the tray on the floor with a foot, offering him a wide grin. “I knew you wouldn’t want kids running around during our Christmas party. To be honest, I’m surprised you invited anyone at all. It’s great that you’re not too depressed to at least spend time with your closest allies.”
It was a ruse.
Rose tricked him. Of course she did.
“Now, care to explain why you were having a laughing fit earlier? Was that some sort of hysterical panic at having a Christmas party? And why was Wyatt going along with it?” She turns towards Wyatt. “You’re not suffering from depression-induced mood swings as well, are you?”
“I’m not depressed,” Artur objects, and Rose has the nerve to roll her eyes at him. Somewhere behind the tree, Wyatt snorts. “And we were laughing about these.”
He grabs a handful of tiny wizard figurines on strings from the box and holds them out to her. One of them is wearing a full-body reindeer costume with a silly conical hat and a flowing wide beard as the only indicators that – yes – this is still supposed to be a wizard.
Rose grabs the ornament in question from his hands.
“Oh, look at that! It’s a reindeer! Maren would love this! Did you invite her, too?”
And this sends him over the edge again, tossing the ornaments back into the box to hold his stomach from the strain.
Invite Maren. Yeah, right. He’ll invite his student to this abomination of a Christmas party so he’ll lose whatever respect she must have left for him now that he’s being replaced by Rotenhahn.
And suddenly, he freezes.
Because if Agatha could see this, she’d execute him. There’s no doubt in his mind.
She already has a new student. What use would she have for a failure of a warlock who spends his evenings decorating a Christmas tree?
“No. I didn’t invite Maren. This is it, and no word of this will get out of this room.”
As if Agatha isn’t most likely a few meters away in her own room, blissfully unaware of the blasphemy going on within the walls of her own home.
Or maybe she isn’t unaware.
Maybe she’s preparing a fitting punishment for their little stunt already.
He shudders because he doesn’t know what he’d prefer – for Agatha to ignore what they’re doing because it doesn’t matter, or for her to torture them for being unprofessional.
Because the latter would mean that she cares, at least.
Ah, he’s getting pathetic.
“All done.” Wyatt has stepped next to them, offering glasses, so that Rose can pour them nice and civilized drinks.
How did she expect a single bottle of wine to last the evening? He’ll have to take another trip to the wine cellar in a moment.
“Merry Christmas!” Having provided everyone with a drink, Rose presents her glass, and Wyatt chinks his against hers. And since she’s grinning like that already, Artur indulges her as well.
“Merry Christmas.”
The words linger stale in his mouth, so he washes them down with more wine, glancing at the tree next to them. By now, it’s giving off a comfortable blanket of warmth from the ridiculous amounts of candles that Wyatt lit.
The heat permeates him, settling deep within his stomach where it glows comfortingly, promising happier days. Maybe this thing isn’t so bad.
“It’s a nice tree,” Wyatt offers in a failed attempt at small talk.
“Yeah,” Rose agrees, still with that smile plastered onto her face.
In the end, Wyatt must have emptied the entire box of ornaments onto the tree because a wizard with a gnarled wooden staff, a long white mane, and white robes stares at him lecherously from one of the branches.
Artur laughs at the guy.
“Bet that dude wouldn’t survive a minute in battle against me.”
Rose and Wyatt tilt their heads at him in unison. Then, Rose lets out a giggle, putting a finger to her lip.
“I don’t know. Merlin’s supposed to be the most powerful wizard out there.”
Artur snorts, because Rose is being ridiculous.
“Pfff, I’d eat that British wannabe magician for breakfast.”
Rose starts cackling as well now, and Wyatt joins in a moment later, wiping at his eyes. Really, it’s getting hard to fit gasps for air in between all the laughing.
He ought to…
But it’s all too hilarious because Merlin isn’t real because wizards don’t exist and now their little group of people who can do actual magic is in tears over a Christmas tree covered in fake people that can only perform fake magic and Artur hasn’t allowed himself to let go like this in ages.
Wyatt almost stumbles, holding onto Rose to keep himself upright. She’s struggling as well, forcing the two of them into an awkward half-hug in an attempt to keep them both on their feet.
His subordinates are out of control.
He is out of control.
At this rate, the most respectable thing in the room is that damned tree.
Well, it would be, if the stupid thing hadn’t caught fire and isn’t that just a hoot?
While most of his brain is drowning in endorphins, he still manages to point out the burning branches and both Rose and Wyatt collapse in renewed giggles.
Watching the Christmas tree burn down is the greatest payback he could have wished for. It deserves every second of its slow, agonizing death. It’s hilarious.
“This is amazing,” Wyatt sighs in a rare break of laughter, only to send them spiraling again. They’re all on the floor by now, unable to stand, and the tree is at its brightest, illuminating the entire ballroom with scorching heat.
“I never expected Christmas to be this fun,” Rose wheezes, coughing from the smoke. They need a purification spell.
In a bit.
Artur will handle it as soon as he’s got more control over his body. Any moment now.
He’ll… he’ll…
The tree has burned down to its frail skeleton. It sticks out of the ballroom floor like the biggest middle finger imaginable.
What have they done?
Both Rose and Wyatt stop laughing, sharing a wide-eyed glance.
“What the-?” Rose starts, but doesn’t have the right words to finish.
What indeed?
Whatever happened wasn’t normal or natural. It wasn’t mundane.
“Enchanted Christmas tree,” Artur concludes, getting up and banishing the burnt husk as well as the lingering smoke into oblivion. Then, he fixes the hole in the floor, erasing any evidence of what they did. Except for the soot on the ceiling.
And the walls.
Later.
“Why would someone sell cursed Christmas trees?” Wyatt is the next to rise, offering Rose a hand.
“I don’t think they meant to curse it.” She’s biting her lip now, glancing at the empty space where their tree used to be, before turning to Artur. “I mean, this was not okay, but I think they meant well? Remember how that lady told us the tree would bring happiness?”
“Oh, I remember.” He remembers a clear violation of magical secrecy. Within their cult’s territory.
The first genuine grin of the evening forces its way onto his face.
“Looks like we’ll have to destroy some dangerous magical artifacts tonight.”
He turns on his heels, stalking off towards the open doors leading out of the ballroom. Why didn’t Rose shut those? If Agatha or Julian Rotenhahn were anywhere close while they were having tree-induced happy times…
“There better be a whole lot of trees left for us to burn,” he grumbles, leading the other two out into the cold, black night and outside of the anti-teleport-warding. “Rose, take Wyatt along since he doesn’t know where we’re going.”
And off they go, back to Paderborn, because of course horrible, cursed Christmas trees would come from that horrible, cursed city.
They arrive back in the grove, but at this point, there are hardly any people about to witness them. Most are back in their homes, celebrating Christmas with their families and their very own magical tree.
Clean-up tomorrow will be a nightmare.
The leftover trees stand in neat rows, abandoned by their owner who closed up shop some time since they came here. They look innocuous enough.
Time to set an end to all of this.
“Wyatt? As our resident fire mage, do you wish to do the honors of torching the first one?” At Artur’s offer, blood creeps into Wyatt’s face. He glances back and forth between him and the trees. Somehow, he remembered to take Rose’s bakery tray with him.
“A-are you sure? I mean, are we… are we really just burning down all these trees?”
“Yes. It’s an order. I take full responsibility.”
With a nod, Wyatt hands the baked goods off to Rose and rubs his hands.
“Alright. Here I go.”
Sowulo is the first and so far only rune that Wyatt learned to use without having to draw it in blood. For whatever reason Artur will never know, it resonates with him.
Instead of blasting a fireball at a tree, the entire lot of them goes up in flames.
The heatwave is instant and overwhelming.
“Um, well done,” Artur finds a crate near the inferno and sits down to watch. “You… gave it 110% there. Great.”
Maybe it’s alright to let the next generation take the spotlight sometimes. And he’ll still get to hunt down the vendor tomorrow.
Rose watches the show next to him, already munching on her cake. Wyatt returns to their side, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Is this alright?”
Weirdly enough, it may just be.
“Yeah. Makes me feel all warm inside.”
At that, Rose nods knowingly, gulping down another mouthful of cake.
“Just like Christmas is supposed to do.”
NotHack Europa 