Tea

Subject: Terilynn Veranos | Classif.: Barzakh

Lynn stopped thinking. Laid off her brain cells. Those that remained were still protesting, demanding answers and wanting to know just what the hell happened. But she couldn’t be bothered. She was sipping tea at the moment.

Her tongue burned from the heat of the amber liquid, smoke still rising out of the cup. It stung, but the numbing tingle mixed with the floral, mossy flavor was just the way she liked it. This was the same tea she had at Dr. Awesome’s house, but the taste was different. Maybe it was just her. Or maybe it was where she was having it.

She sat here in this teahouse on a whim. Open-air and breezy, it was the perfect spot for her mind to unwind. To siphon off the existential dread that had flooded her skull. Being sandwiched between two Aberrations in dire need of parental counselling was not on her wish list. And who the hell names their heart, “Insanity Engine?”

The name alone made her wonder the kind of apocalypse that would be unleashed upon the world should he activate it.

That had to be his Aberration ability. There was no magic there. And somehow, even if it was just an instant, she swore she saw the Spire react to it. From the time they escaped the Fangcrawlers, she already knew his heart was capable of destroying the entire world. But it seemed to have some form of a single-target effect as well, with how he was threatening Old Gold with it.

… Only to end up letting the village chief go. Maybe Mia using her gun out in public was a blessing in disguise. He looked like he was on the verge of breaking down just from conversing with the Aberration. Excusing himself to see his daughter was the right move. Hopefully, they’d take their sweet time consoling each other, like they always did. She still had a lot of tea to enjoy.

“Just because I’m your only customer doesn’t mean you get to stare.” Lynn glared at the tea master behind the counter as she took her umpteenth sip.

The meek-looking bot lowered its gaze in apology. “Sorry, you’re our first-ever customer. I’m just so happy someone actually appreciates our Byzantea!”

Her eyes wandered over the half-wall on her right and to the large fuel tanks connected to the house next door. The only sustenance the villagers required was whatever concoction the Alchemist had supplied in those canisters. By this point, she had seen a few bots open a compartment in their abdomen and refuel themselves through the hose at the bottom of the tanks.

That was the only alcohol that was served here. Literal fuel. Even she was not dumb enough to guzzle down gas. That was a “Tim” thing. Lynn thought of herself as someone with a more… refined palate.

Which begged the question:

“What’s the point of having a teahouse if you robots don’t even drink tea in the first place?”

“Tradition.” The tea master smiled, its malleable mouthpiece grinning from ear to ear, assuming that was where it was located.

First, colors. Now, tea. Everything felt more and more like Old Gold’s little playhouse. A childish, messed-up interpretation of utopia.

“So this ‘tradition’ involves you making tea for hundreds of years without serving anyone?”

“Tradition is like art.” The tea master’s voice had an almost serene feel to it, despite being modulated through its speakers. “You don’t need an audience to enjoy it yourself.”

Even though Lynn disagreed with the tea master’s philosophy, she couldn’t deny her interest in the way the drink was prepared. There was no tea bag. No milk and servants to bring it. Everything was made by hand behind the counter.

The bot could probably transform its fingers into different shapes or equipment, but it opted not to. Those same metal hands used wooden utensils, teaware made of clay instead of porcelain, and even a specialized towel in the preparation process. Having only seen and experienced the end result of the beverage, seeing the tea master at work was an intriguing performance in and of itself.

There was a rhythm to it. Hot water was poured in for only a few seconds. The timing. The tea-to-water ratio. The temperature. Everything had to be perfect to ensure optimal infusion of the tea leaves. And to think those leaves came from the disappearing red trees that overpopulated this region. Who could’ve imagined something this tasteful could have come from something so alien?

Refreshing wasn’t exactly the right term for it. It was closer to calming. A different kind of “calming” from the one she felt when Tim pulled his heart out of his chest. This was the “tranquil” kind of calm. Peace that came without any strings attached.

Time slowed not because reality was about to fall apart, but because it was pleasant. Soft woody tones danced in her mouth, her tongue its stage. The fragrance—a fertile, almost pheromone-like musk between that of patchouli and sandalwood—lingered in her nose. This tea alone made her reconsider destroying the entire village.

As much as she hated Old Gold’s guts, as much as she wanted to burn down the factory that reminded her of her own unnatural birth, she saw the bigger picture. This tea might prove to be a prized export to the kingdom. A tool for her to gain standing among the nobles, away from the thumb of her sister. It was moments like this that made her travels as an Executrix fruitful. Killing Glacies was ideal, but the next best thing was seizing influence within the house away from her.

“How many tons of tea leaves can you prepare each month?” Lynn asked as she refilled her cup.

“Tons?!” The bot’s serene tone wavered. “I'm just one person, miss.”

“Can't you get more people to gather them for you?”

“Everyone has their assigned function.”

“What happened to free will? Didn't your beloved village chief give you all ‘the ability to decide?’” She quoted verbatim.

The tea master smiled once more. “She did. But we also know our place. Tea is my passion, the same way medicine is for Dr. Awesome, and protecting others is for Fuzzy Wuzzy.”

“Fu—whaat?”

“The village gatekeeper. There’s no way you missed him.”

Oh. The colossal tin can with a room temperature IQ that she slammed onto the ground. But more confusingly, she was stunned to learn there was an actual color called “Fuzzy Wuzzy.” Was the individual who named all these colors drunk when they came up with them? If so, she would love to have a taste of whatever that person was having.

“I don’t.” Lynn rolled her eyes. “If that oversized bot were good at its job, I wouldn’t be here. Clearly, not everyone knew their place.”

“He’s still young. Give the guy some room to bloom.”

She raised her eyebrow. It was impossible to gauge how old these bots were. She could only assume based on the quality of the voice they used, but someone who was 80 and someone who was 240 still sounded the same. That was the case with the Immortals on The Surface, and it felt the same way here, too.

But that aside, the tea master’s answer revealed an inconsistency. One that a skilled Executrix like herself instantly picked up.

“Young?” She asked, eyes closed, her cup an inch away from her mouth as she savored the aroma of the tea. And when they opened, she shot a question with her glare. “What happened to the last one?”

Tim’s friend founded the village. She recalled. For a village this old, putting a greenhorn in charge of security did not make sense, unless…

“Ah, well… the previous gatekeeper went missing.”

You mean, “sacrificed,” she kept her smirk and her thoughts hidden. So much for the freedom to choose. But the dragon problem Old Gold was keeping under wraps might be just the thing Lynn needed. The key to the locked door of establishing the Byzantea trade.

“B-But don’t you worry, miss! Our village is perfectly safe!”

More like a safe waiting to be unlocked.

“Someone will be in contact with you soon,” Lynn said as she got up from her seat.

“Huh? W-What do you mean?”

Panicked, the tea master’s camera-eyes darted from the empty seat to the leaving customer. Darted between confusion and concern, unsure if what she just said was a veiled threat. But just before she stepped out of the premises, Lynn simply advised:

“When that time comes, make sure you have a lot of tea leaves.”

She left, satisfied with the little side quest she had given herself. Maybe taking this detour wasn’t so bad after all. The Council assassin aside, anything that could help the kingdom—and by proxy—herself, was a net positive. She made a mental note to delegate this little business venture to her subordinates once she reached Anterey.

But first, she had to get back to the car, the place where she and Tim agreed to meet. It was parked not too far away from Dr. Awesome’s house. The village itself was small enough to be walkable, and by this point, the vibrant, oppressive colors that painted most of the place felt a little more… colonizable.

She was hoping that Tim wouldn’t actually talk the dragon out of terrorizing the village. Ideally, Mia would get her powerful new form, and the status quo of the village would be maintained. What a shame it would be if Old Gold’s beloved children found out they were made just to be sacrifices. Maybe exporting the tea would keep the tea from being spilled.

Actually, thinking about it, even if the dragon were to become peaceful again, that didn’t erase any of the village chief’s crimes. The leverage was still there. Lynn smiled to herself. Her feet had a bounce to their steps that previously weren’t there. The deal was practically half-signed at this point.

Maybe she should even give Mia a lifetime supply of Byzantea. A charming return gift for the explosive Earl Grey she served when they first met.

Just as her mind was about to replay that memory tucked in her brain, it was hijacked by a peculiar scene unfolding before her eyes. Tim and Mia were standing in front of two robots on the other side of the walkway. Both of the bots looked normal, especially when compared to the titan that was Fuzzy Wuzzy or whatever nonsense Safety Orange was.

Did those two tin cans just… bow to him? Lynn squinted her eyes. What happened when she was enjoying her tea? What shenanigans did the traitor father and the killer daughter get into this time?

When she approached them, the two bots were already leaving. Lynn’s curiosity swelled. As did her jealousy. Nobody has bowed to her yet. How did this Exiled criminal beat her to it?

“Who were those two?” She asked when she got close enough, not realizing her tone made her sound like a jealous partner.

Tim answered, “They were the gatekeeper’s parents.”

Mia added, “Did you know he’s called Fuzzy Wuzzy?”

Lynn’s shock didn’t come from the name—she had already been spoiled earlier. It was the notion that those two average-sized mech-humans were the parents of the absolute unit that was the village guard. Did the villagers not realize how absurd it was for their “children” to look nothing like their parents?

Maybe this was a side effect of Old Gold’s Aberration powers or something. That thing turned alchemically synthesized infants into robots and distributed them to the villagers. Something about “experiencing the joy of having children.” The influence that twisted being had over this village was unsettling.

Did she need more skeletons in the closet to get the villagers to doubt their leader?

“I know, even I was stunned when I heard that name,” Tim admitted.

“No, that’s not it,” Mia said. Standing on her tiptoes to whisper into her Dad’s ear, she made sure she was just loud enough for Lynn to hear. “Lynn’s just jealous you got two villagers bowing to you.”

“Hey!” That comment was enough to snap the Immortal out of her pondering. “I’ll have you know people bow to me all the time.”

“Because they’re terrified of you.” Mia smirked. “Maybe you should start saving their son’s life like Dad. Then you’ll know what real gratitude feels like.”

Oh. She recalled it was this traitor who healed the gatekeeper after she knocked it out with a single slam. But no matter.

Lynn smiled. It also didn’t matter that Mia was looking at her all weirded and creeped out.

Wait till you realize the eventual economic ramifications behind this little detour your father started.