Golem Witcher

Dolly Paw's chest was beating at a steady rhythm. She had let her magic master in on the secret of her recent experiments. Enchanting a coin might have seemed a mundane action, as she had merely played around a trifling Silvaron coin. Just enough for five or six loaves of bread. Which, perhaps, for the common man wasn't an amount to snort at. And yet, who knew the consequences this would eventually come to bear, on the economics of both the Aureluster Empire, and the continent at large?

Griffon Flower Vermeil had agreed to follow her without asking any question. For that was how deep his trust in her went. Still, Dolly couldn't help but think of what would happen later. For the witcher she received help from was a Golem, a race just like herself when it came to discrimination, a catgirl hailing from both the beastkin and mankind. Or rather, a Golem's existence was even more controversial in a society where the Church's ideas governed.

This Golem lived a rather uneventful life under the disguise of a girl in their town, Marbréclat. But in the Lutesia capital, she — they? — was ill-famed as a witch of the Prism Scepter Generation. Mentioning the latter to a Church official would have been the same as greatly betraying the Golem Witcher...

For someone that lived in stealth, the Golem Witcher had chosen to inhabit quiet quarters in this already meek town. Which wasn't that hard to do, since besides the church, the marketplace or the gates, few things brought activity to Marbréclat.

When Dolly Paw finally reached the front door of a sober building, Griffon Flower Vermeil inhaled air. Out of habit, the catgirl could sense her master may be about to say something, and so she turned to face him. A finger to her mouth, she hushed in a breath. She bluntly knocked with her knuckles four times. The sound of hitting wood resounded from the old, musty door.

After a silence that lasted a couple of seconds, footfalls could be heared moving about from the other side. Wariness seemed to be conveyed, or at least Dolly believed the footfalls were deliberately muffled. To her whiskers, the smells wafting from the room gave hints as to the scene that might be occurring. There was the sugary presence of oranges, probably put in a basket with other fruits, as the aromas from apples also came by, along other scents. And, more importantly, she could smell a faint burning, a combustion that might be used in an experiment of some sort.

"Irisa? It's me, Dolly!" Proclaimed with glee the ever joyous catgirl.

And so, the door opened itself... Revealing chestnut hair that fell down to a girl's shoulders, slightly longer than Dolly's hair. Only her head could be seen, and as she scanned her surroundings, she noticed Griffon. Knowing the most prominent Alchemist in town, her face immediately tensed up.

"What is the meaning of this?" And Irisa closed the door in a flash. A thud punctuated her words.

"Wait, I will explain, please let us in... Irisa! A lil' faith goes a long way, I say!"

"Is our presence that troubling to your witcher?"

Clasping Griffon's hand within her own, she appeased him with sheer body warmth.

"Irisa, it's about the Summon enchant; you know, with the Fore..."

The moment Dolly ran her mouth, the door briskly opened at once.

"Who told you to tell someone else?"

Griffon lowered his head at Irisa's reaction.

"He's the most trustworthy fellow out there!"

These words and Dolly's hand both helped soothe the elder's heart. However, the fact that she pushed him in front to emphasize on her sentiment was a little too much for him.

Irisa sighed, and that was the end of it. Unable to go against the catgirl she deeply liked, she opened her door. And so, quite the spectacle could be seen. Upon entering through the wooden door, one could see a small room littered with items everywhere. Dolly could at last pinpoint where the fruit basket truly was, and the shape of the combustion occurring.

Griffon followed suit, and quietly let his eyes skim other the nooks and crannies. If this girl was the witcher that had found out how to activate a Summon enchantment by deviating energy — or rather resonance — from Foresight, there was tremendous value in grasping her mental environment on a daily basis... Not that the complex chaos of the small room inspired him anything else but awe.

"So you spilled the beans, didn't ya?"

"Irisa, I must introduce you to my master, Alchemist Griffon Flower Vermeil. Likewise, master, I want you to get to know Irisa, the potent witcher that helped me with summons as enchantments." The flustered Dolly tried to handle the situation by speaking at a fast pacing.

"Do you think me so neophyte as to not know the biggest shot around?!" Irisa's words brought pride to Griffon, but he could feel quite the tension in her.

"Hello, my lady. I am honored you know me, but I cannot answer likewise. Still, I wish for our encounter to be delightful to you. I have seen something incredible from Dolly over here, and she brought me there."

"... Dolly, did you tell him about you-know-what?"

"Yeah, no... Irisa, can you tell him yourself?"

"Mister Flower Vermeil. I know you were a nobleman before being disowned for your alchemic endeavors. I take it you're not staunchly fond of the Church?"

"What does any of it have to do with the topic at hand?" He couldn't help but use an artificially deeper tone, one he reserved for the times he had to control himself in tenseful moments of life. Ones where blood-coolness was in dire need.

"I am a Golem."

And Griffon suddenly lost the will to answer. He could sympathize with the caution of this careful witcher. For, in the wealth of knowledge he had accumulated over the course of long years, he had seen many an alchemist suffer the Church's vindicative penalties. And had at length heard about the Golems, though he'd never met one.

Golems were humans of barrenness. They had bodies that would eventually break much faster than normal humans, and used limbs of clay bound by magic to counter their illness. They couldn't bear children, nor fertilize others. They were born from taboo experiments from alchemists onto pregnant women; Griffon even knew from the book of a life sentence criminal that it took resonance from a catalyst onto the placenta to birth a Golem.

Just what kind of reclusive youth had led the Irisa he met? What abuse had she ventured through? Compassion filled his heart as his eyes dropped to the floor.