DISCLAIMER: Blaze Union © Sting. I do not seek monetary profit from this writing.

"I'm expecting more guests in a few days. They may or may not be of interest to you as well. Until then, would you like to stay in here?"

It was much better than having to sleep in the open again, which was always dangerous because you never knew when bandits were going to be around (let alone wild animals), and so she agreed instantly.

The prophet who called himself Nessiah smiled at her and opened the door to the big old mansion, indicating that she should go inside with a bow and a sweep of his arm. The long chain connecting his wrist to the mask on his face made a clattering noise.

"Please don't mind the mess."

"Okay," she said, and walked in. And stared.

There were books. There were books everywhere. There were books on every surface. There were bookcases lining every single wall, only leaving room for windows and the kitchen counter and tables that had more books on them. Nessiah walked past her and into the cramped kitchen and opened the pantry, and next to plates and glasses and pitchers that looked like they were real porcelain and glass, there were even more books.

Nessiah took the books down out of the pantry and put them on the counter, then opened another pantry door. Emilia squinted, and wasn't disappointed: There was at least one more book in there, too.

"I could have sworn… ah, here we are." And Nessiah finally came up with a small silvery pot and a pair of small cups. He set them on the counter and swirled his fingers lazily above the pot, causing water to spiral down into it. "Faster than actually drawing it up. How will you take your tea, Miss Eimi?"

"Oh my god," she said, and laughed.