Epsilon Twilight
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40. Tea Party
🕑 Added 2025-08-23 10:55:27 +0000 UTCChristie had to admit that she was extremely nervous. This wasn’t just her first tea party, but her first social gathering in general. Her life had been a protected and reserved one at the Valasela Estate; she hadn’t known or interacted with many people in her life, and that made her anxious. Yes, perhaps she had done so these early weeks in the academy, but it wasn’t the same. This was far, far different and far, far worse.
“You should not worry that much,” Shayla said as they walked to the gardens. “In any case, I am more at a loss than you. Tea parties aren’t a thing in Intak Solfan, which is quite ironic considering we are the greatest exporters of tea.”
The redhead almost wanted to snap at the brunette about how she wasn’t Intaksolfani by blood alone, and she had barely been in that country, but she held herself as she knew that was only the nerves making her moody, and Shayla didn’t deserve such disrespect.
“I will… do my best,” the nouveau riche responded softly.
“There is a saying about that, you know?” The merchant’s daughter chuckled. “I do not know how to translate it correctly, though. It is ‘solfe asa ydaziana shuka asal’ which roughly translates to ‘if you try your best, then you always do your best’. It sounds wrong, however… I think it would be more accurate to say ‘when you try your best, you can be satisfied’… No… still not quite… Ugh!” Shayla grabbed her hair in desperation. “Why is it so hard to translate things when I talk both languages perfectly?”
“I have heard about it,” Christie let out a soft chuckle as she took pleasure in her former roommate’s suffering. “Translating into or to Intaksolfani – well, or rather Salosa, as that is called the language – is hard because it does not share any roots like how Crochetan and Grwcian do.”
“That always struck me as odd. There is no phonetic connection between Grwcian and Crochetan, yet there is with Salosa. Like… how do you both use a syllabic alphabet yet your phonetics are completely different? How does that even happen?”
Christie couldn’t help but shrug. “Maybe Missus Ashcroft has the answer to that question. She is very knowledgeable in history.”
“I mean, she is the History teacher, so she better be,” the Intaksolfani scoffed. “But look, I have some advice for you for the tea party. Do not talk about these things. These noble girls are braindead, and if you give them a modicum of intellectual conversation, their brains will stop working and they will start barking like rabid dogs, for their tiny minds are incapable of processing anything.”
“I had the feeling that noble girls are very intelligent?”
“Intelligence and intellectualism are not the same. You might be able to solve very complex equations, but that does not mean you are capable of discovering or comprehending them.”
“I suppose?” Christie proselytized her confusion. “But here is some advice from my part: do not call them ‘braindead’ in their faces.”
“Solid advice,” Shayla nodded courtly. “But enough conversation, our classmates await us.”
The bronze-skinned girl pointed forward with her whole, naked arm to the gathering of noble ladies. As expected, their attires were simple for an informal tea party, yet of superlative quality, just barely scratching the line of what would be adequate and inappropriate. Frills were the current fashion, so most students wore so many on their dresses that they seemed almost childish, yet that was what made it more appropriate for this informal setting. Well, as informal as noble tea parties could get.
The arrangement of the tea party was simple. It was composed of three tables forming an equilateral triangle with four chairs per table and a central, bigger table that hosted a banquet of desserts yet boasted no chairs. That was colloquially known as the gossip table.
“Ah, you finally made it, dear roommate!” It was Veronica Alfargar who spoke, and she pronounced the word ‘dear’ with the same affection as a prisoner referred to their jailer. Nobles were subtle with their words, yet awfully open with their tone. “You took your time!”
Veronica wore a potent red and black dress that contrasted perfectly with her ebony hair. Perhaps she and Christie both wore red dresses, but the shades of red were like night and day. Christie wore dim and dead reds that contrasted with her vivacious hair, whilst Veronica boasted screaming and lively reds that clashed with her nocturnal hair. The redhead couldn’t help but think about how much that choice defined and revealed both of their characters: Christie was satisfied with the shadows, Veronica craved the limelight.
“And it would seem you have invited Miss Valasela here!” The noble girl spoke with a surprising amount of delight.
“A pleasure to be here,” Christie bowed formally. It wasn’t a complete lie as she really wanted to at least experience a tea party in her life at least once.
“We have a lot to talk about, Miss Valasela.”
“Christina is fine,” the nouveau riche responded with a fake smile to the noble girl’s enthusiasm.
“Likewise, Christina,” Veronica slightly bowed with a hand on her heart. “Alas, I am currently occupied with other guests. Please, make yourself comfortable in the meantime.”
As the black-haired noble walked away, Shayla directed herself to the furthest table, and Christie followed her.
“What was that?” She asked once they sat down.
“You really are asking me?” Shayla arched a brow.
“Yes?”
The citrine-eyed girl sighed. “The Valaselas are famous in the upper echelons of society.”
“Yes?” Christie reiterated with the eloquence of a parrot.
Shayla squinted at her. “Do you know something about your family?”
“Yes?”
“If you say yes again one more time, I am going to push you off the island.”
“To be fair,” Christie raised an open palm, “‘yes’ was the answer to all of those questions.”
“One of those sentences was not even a question.”
The porcelain-skinned girl’s eyes darted all over the place as she recalled the recent conversation. “You got me there. I was responding by reflex.”
“I see…” Shayla visibly held a groan and stretched her arm for a pastry.
“I would recommend against it,” Christie advised her.
“How come?” She stopped her arm midway through.
“There is a proper etiquette in the order of eating. Look at the girls at the central table, for example. They are all carrying pastries on plates, but they are untouched. They are talking right now and will not lay a finger on them until they go back to their tables.”
“Do we really need to go with this façade when it is an informal gathering?”
“Do you want to be ostracized by the nobles?”
“Never liked them in the first place. How about you?”
“I… I still have not been able to form an informed opinion,” Christie tried to go against her bias, deeply ingrained by her dearest father. “But I did not expect you to be so aggressive with them. Are your father’s main customers not supposed to be nobles?”
“And where do you think that contempt comes from?” Shayla raised a hand to alert a nearby maid. “I can at least have a tea, right?”
“…should be fine.” The nouveau riche was just going by memory, mostly a theoretical one at that, instead of experience.
After a short exchange with the maid, Shayla got her to bring them a cup of tea. Even though the party had started a while ago, the tea was still steaming when the maid poured it into the cups as the teapot was placed on a platform of agate commanded by Heat. The teapot had a novel and delicate design as it was made out of porcelain except for the bottom, which was brass to heat up the contents more easily. It made sense to Christie that nobles would use brass instead of gold for cutlery and miscellaneous tools. Even the plates were fancy brass instead of the platitudinous gold. Ah, Christie was tired of seeing that awful and feeble metal everywhere just because it was cheap.
“Hmm~” The redhead hummed in delight as she tasted the hot tea.
“And that is not unbecoming of a tea party?” The brunette arched a brow at her mannerisms.
“This is a common misconception – from what I have read in stories – but showing delight in meals is considered good manners and a praise to the host.”
“Huh,” Shayla groaned before having a sip. “Mmm, jasmine. It has been a while. But yes, I had the complete opposite idea. I thought nobles were more skittish about talking about their actual thoughts.”
“I am not exactly the right person to ask that question,” Christie let out a soft yet nervous giggle.
As if commanded by Summon, a girl directed herself to their table. Her dress was a simple one-piece and nonetheless delightful with its many sky-blue floral embroideries that contrasted superbly against the white fabric. Christie hesitated for a moment, but she ended up recognizing her as one of her classmates.
“Greetings, Miss Rivera,” she welcomed her appropriately after putting her teacup down. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
“Nothing much, Miss Valasela,” the brunette-blond noble responded.
“Christina is fine. We are classmates, after all.” Say your name, please! She had interacted so little with her classmates, and the teachers always referred to them by their surnames that she… might have forgotten about them.
“I think that might pose an issue, Miss Valasela.” Miss Rivera let out a soft giggle as she partially occluded her mouth with a hand.
“I do not think so. Right, Shayla?” Christie went with the flow, even though she didn’t know what they were talking about. The reason why she called out her former roommate was so she could extend her a lifeline.
“I mean, I am with Miss Rivera here. Having two Christinas can get a bit messy.”
Oh, she was so surprised that she almost let out that sound. Well, I guess it is a common name as of late…
“Yet it feels awkward calling classmates by their honorifics and surnames, do you not think so?” Christie continued speaking as if she wasn’t affected by the revelation. Fractures! Now that I think about it, we might have others ‘Crists’ in class. At least a Cristobal, I am sure.
“I could throw off the honorifics, if that makes you comfortable.”
“It would,” the nouveau riche admitted. “But it is still awkward. How about you call me Christie?”
“Quite ironic, is it not?” Miss Rivera let out a chuckle.
“What is ironic?” Christie tilted her head downward in confusion.
“That the ‘Christie’ is the tallest one,” she giggled again.
“Oh,” the redhead joined her in the giggling. “I guess it is. I have never pondered it before in my life, as everyone in my estate was taller than me.”
“Color me impressed considering your height,” Christina, the noble, said as she tilted her head upwards to inspect the nouveau riche’s height.
“I was never this tall. But even then, every single member is still taller than me,” thought I doubt that will continue being the case soon. Christie left that part unspoken. “My dearest father, for example, is nearing the two-meter mark.”
As Christina was about to open her lips, another voice spoke. “Is that the illustrious Mister Valasela you are talking about?” It was Veronica’s.
The tea party’s host carried a tray with pastries as she had just walked away from the central table and all its whispers. She deposited the tray on the table and sat down without even asking. Though at the same time, she was the host.
“I do not know about illustrious, but I do know about Mister Valasela,” Christie responded softly, even if the noble’s interjection irritated her greatly. She discreetly shot a gaze at Shayla, and she just shrugged defeatedly.
“Oh, but illustrious he definitely is. He is quite well-known amongst my peers,” Veronica spoke as if she were a baroness when she wasn’t even a soldier, let alone heiress.
“So I have been told,” Christie did her best to keep appearances up, but fractures, it was getting more difficult each passing second. There was something about the girl that just taxed one with her presence alone. “Though I am afraid I do not share that same point of view. I just see a father, not an… illustrious figure.”
“Understandable,” the host nodded. “There are two types of parents, mortals and gods. I cannot say which is better, but we have definitely seen different faces of the same person.”
“Seen?” The redhead arched a brow. “Have you met with my dearest father by any chance?”
“Yes, I have had the pleasure to once meet the Hasel Valasela years ago.” Veronica’s grin reached her nose, and she wore such an expression proudly.
“He seems to… have left a lasting impression on you.”
“Quite! He was the first displayer of true Agatecraft I had seen in my life. My father and older brothers boasted plentiful and beautiful agates, yet there was something about Mister Valasela’s ruthlessness that bewitched me.”
“Ruthlessness?” That wasn’t an epithet Christie could attribute to her father.
“Yes,” Veronica nodded in confirmation. “He had a sparring with my father when I was young, and even though I had never seen him lose, Mister Valasela made quick work of him. Also my brothers. I believe if he had not dealt with my odious older brothers, I would not have warmed up to him as much as I did – for my own father had been once a god upon a time and it was now mortal because of it – yet such is the event that led me to the Skyscraper Academy.”
“Interesting,” Christie was veritable with that statement. “I cannot say I have seen my dearest father ever perform acts of Agatecraft.”
“Never?” The noble girl gasped.
Christie was left petrified as she tried to reminisce about any such event, yet her mind failed to provide her with a single memory.
“Perhaps a handful of times when I was young,” she added nervously.
I… she felt her sea of stone tremble and her head grow an ache. I have never seen him perform Agatecraft. For some reason, she felt like puking. That headache quickly degenerated into nausea. I… do I even know my dearest father? The sheer implication of that question chilled her bones.
“How queer.” For once, Christie was thankful for Veronica’s interjections. She preferred not to think for now. “Considering he is a miner of his caliber, I would have expected him to boast about his prowess.”
“Dearest father has always been protective and secretive of his work,” the nouveau riche responded with a wry smile.
“Oh, that is a shame,” Veronica proselytized veritable disappointment. “I would have loved to hear about his work. Truth is, everyone is secretive about the work of miners. Even my father – who knows thanks to his position – will not share anything about it with me.”
“My roommate could know something as she comes from a mining hamlet,” Christie offered.
“Oh please, Miss Chri-Valasela,” Veronica looked at the other Christina before changing her opinion, “do not jest like that,” the noble girl let out a chuckle. “That commoner will not know a thing, what a good jest! Unless you are mistaking miners with miners?”
The word was the same, but the inflection in how she pronounced it clearly demarked a difference.
“Of course not,” Christie let out a nervous giggle.
She had.
All her life, she had thought that her dearest father was a miner, the kind that went into mines to get metals and gemstones. Only that he specifically mined for agates. Such was her surprise at the revelation that Christie couldn’t be aggrieved about Agatha’s treatment, as that statement was already forgotten.
“Alas,” the redhead continued, “I have the feeling that you know more about miners than I, as my dearest father protected me against such knowledge. Could you share it with me, Miss Veronica?”
“Gladly!” Veronica took a sip out of her cup before starting. “I am no expert by any means, but I take pride in knowing that, with ease, I am the most knowledgeable person on that topic present here. First of all, what do you all know about the depths?”
“Not much,” Christina spoke for the first time since the other noble approached the table. “Only that they expand for kilometers into the earth and that many dangerous monsters live there compared to the surface.”
“Yes, that is the gist of it,” the host said. “Unless anyone else has something to add?”
Christie swayed her head whilst Shayla answered by taking a sip of her tea. The nouveau riche had heard about the depths – and cursed with them – but as she had only read of them in fiction, she had thought they were legends instead of an actual, tangible thing.
“There are not many entrances to the depths in Crocheta – even when considering it is the country with the most of them – yet I had the pleasure to see one a long time ago,” Veronica explained. “The entrance was as wide as the island of the academy, enough to fit a small city, and the hole extended so far down that it was shrouded in darkness. Colossal formations they are,” she nodded in satisfaction to her own explanation.
Books had exactly described them like that, and that was why Christie had thought they were fiction. It seemed… well, impossible.
“The deeper one goes, the thicker the darkness gets. But it is not just the darkness that is the problem – for a single Light command can solve it – but the dangers that lie within it. I am not talking about monsters, but hazards too. And some say,” she arched her back forward as if she was telling a secret, “that apparitions of the dead can be found there too.”
“Ghosts? Really, Veronica?” Shayla scoffed.
“Oh, shush!” The host dismissed her roommate with a swat of a hand, as if she were swatting a fly. “It is no mere ‘ghosts’, Shayla. We are talking about lithic apparitions of the dead.”
“Stone ghosts, got it,” the Intaksolfani crossed her arms and smiled smugly.
Veronica pouted and frowned. “You do not deserve my time.”
“You are the one who invited me here.”
Please, get me out of here, Christie sighed in her mind.
“Is that all there is to the depths?” Thankfully, Christina – the noble girl – had enough bravery to blitz into the conversation and put it back in order.
“Not at all,” Veronica smiled at her, if just because it wasn’t Shayla talking. “The most important things remain: agates and the Veins of the World.”
“Veins of the World?” Christie inquired. “I am afraid I am not familiar with the term.”
“Well, sometimes they are called Dragon Veins, so maybe you know them by that term.” She didn’t. “The Veins of the World are… well, it is hard to explain without making them sound dull, but they are veins of agate that run across the world. Some say that they run so deep that they reach its core, or outright the other side of the planet.”
“So this is where miners get the agates from?”
“Common misconception, but no,” the host swayed her head in negation. “Agates, as we know them, already come shaped. How the miners get them is a secret, however. The Veins of the World are, for lack of a better term, monolithic agate veins. Yes, you can infuse them with simple commands, but they present greater resistance to the processed ones we use daily. Most of the exports from the depths are actually the veins because – as you can imagine – agates are not that common.”
At least the high-quality ones, that was what Veronica left unsaid but Christie thought. After all, awakened agates could be found everywhere, but they tended to be… lackluster. Even Christie knew that much.
“The profession of miner seems perilous,” she ended up commenting.
“And that is why I am so interested in your father, Miss Valasela.” Christie couldn’t help but think about how cute Veronica looked at the moment with a smile on her face. Not any sassiness or derision, just a smile adequate to her age. Couldn’t she always be like that?
“These depths sound really interesting, I shall document myself on them. And, once I meet my dearest father, I also shall interrogate him on all the subjects you have presented.”
“That would make my day,” the host continued smiling. How cruel is the world to give such a beautiful smile to a girl that doesn’t boast it usually… “But are you sure he would answer? My father refused to do so, after all.”
“He owes me some answers, and he also likes to dote on me. Almost to an unhealthy degree. Surely I can convince him to…”
Christie’s speech was cut as some shouts were heard in the background. She and the rest of the members of the table turned their heads to look at the source of the commotion. Her roommate seemed to be discussing with a maid. What is she doing here?
“I must thank you again, Miss Valasela,” Veronica scoffed. “I could have never slept in the same room as that loud commoner.”
It was, in a way, breathtaking how much venom the noble girl could infuse a neutral noun like ‘commoner’ with such malice to the point of turning it into an expletive.
Christie’s roommate continued to discuss with the maid as the clerk didn’t seem to allow her to come into the garden, but the blonde got tired and decided to dodge the woman and blitz her way in.
“Christie! Christie!” Agatha chanted aloud with the greatest of joy as her eyes shone as if commanded by Light.
Whilst Christie condemned Veronica’s words, it was true that her roommate was making her feel a bit embarrassed at the time being with all that ruckus.
Then it happened.
Agatha gave the Light command to her lone agate. But that wasn’t all. The agate was airborne. And moving. It was being displaced in an orbit. Defying gravity. Constant. Never falling.
The agate was also boasting the Control command.
Everyone at the tea party realized what was happening at the same time, and most of the expressions from the noble girls were actually of dread. Those worsened when Agatha confirmed their fears.
“I have achieved the Second Stratum!” The seamstress announced with all the glee in the world as she blinded everyone with her smile and the second sun she boasted in the sky.
Out of all the thoughts in Christie’s mind, the one that prevailed amongst all was a roguish one. The nouveau riche turned to face the noble girl hosting the tea party, and with the smuggest of smiles, she uttered:
“What were you saying about my roommate?”
