Magic and mana. Those two terms are frequently used interchangeably with no regard for their real meanings.

A witch 'uses magic' to make 'magical fire'. For a common civilian without any knowledge of the subject, no further elaboration is required.

Witches themselves don't usually pay any heed to the words they use either. Why should they? As long as it gets the message across.

In truth, however, there are clear academic definitions distinguishing those terms from each other. If magic was the manifestation of supernatural phenomena, mana was the energy that caused it in the first place.

And what is that energy?

This world, our reality, is governed by multiple laws. Gravitation, the Planck constant, strong and weak forces, dark energy, many different forms of equations, numerical representations, ideas and more. All meant to help us comprehend these laws.

All to get us closer to the Great Mother below, to God.

Such concepts already existed and were studied long before the era of witches, even beyond the era of lightning that preceded the modern world.

What witches understand with far more clarity, however - more than the ones that came before them - is that these laws are not rigid nor static.

Rather than words carved into rock, the universal laws were more like the surface of a lake. They could ripple and form waves, always oscillating, even as the whole water body remained calm, maintaining the order of nature.

But what if you threw a pebble at it? What if one were to take off her clothes and jump?

Mana is the name of the energy that disturbs the natural, inertial state of these laws. Chaotic and entropic, provoking the smallest of wavelets to the greatest tsunami.

It may be everywhere in subtle forms, however, its strongest manifestations come mainly from a selectful of living beings, magical creatures and witches. From those, it spreads onto the environment.

Mana is powerful if wielded correctly.

Fundamentally destructive, when abused.

But above all, useful.

In actuality, these last three points are the only things the vast majority of people care about. They were born and groomed in the world of witches, they don't need to understand beyond the fact that 'magic' powered their tools, blew things up and occasionally turned animals into demons.

It's simply how most people lead their lives, really.

"Did you get all that, Dailah? Those are all the places we're visiting today."

One may resent those people, for not trying to understand the world around them better. Ignorance is the leading cause of tragedy after all.

"Yes, but only those? Isn't it too little for a day's work?"

However, what other choice is there? In our short time on this Terra, there are only so many things we are allowed to care about.

One cannot expect a farmer to know of laboratory safety guidelines, nor a carpenter to understand the intricacies of dungeon diving.

"Don't be fooled Dailah, each one of these visits can take quite a while. I wouldn't be surprised if it's already night by the time we wrap everything up."

And that is why functions such as this one, being performed by the woman and the girl riding the giant bird, exist. Functions whose sole purpose is to plug the cracks in the dam. An acting bandage for human flaw, stopping the blood that's constantly being spilled all over the gears of society.

A simple and unglamorous job, but essential nonetheless.

The two trod through town towards their first objective. A row of lampposts in a certain street.

There were specific people who held the responsibility of maintaining the city's illumination, but something unusual had happened in this particular street.

Multiple lampposts were broken. Some of the glowstones even went missing. It all happened just a couple of days ago.

"Vandalism?" - Dailah asked - "Maybe someone trying to steal the stones."

"Unlikely." - Scariot answered - "Those stones may be worth something, but not enough to risk getting on the wrong side of the law. Hard to remove them inconspicuously from the lamps too.

"Besides, it's simple to identify glowstones that belong to public lighting. You can't sell them around here without being caught. Honestly, it'd be easier money to just start begging on the streets.

"Not to mention only a few went missing or got destroyed. Nowhere near enough to make a good buck."

Dailah half-turned her head, giving Scariot sitting behind her a sideways glance, and asked.

"What about stealing them for personal use? Or... just plain stupidity?"

Criminals aren't always smart, nor do they necessarily think things through. Dailah still remembers when a young woman from her village brought back a fancy bottle of cashew liquor from the city, showing it off to everyone. The next day the bottle disappeared from her home.

She desperately searched around for quite a while, without success. The woman gave up eventually.

....then one day they found the culprit leisurely gulping the bottle down while sitting on her porch. Dailah's hometown wasn't big and bonds were tighter, so she was able to get away by just paying off the equivalent value of the liquor. Along with some extra compensation.

Still, the thief couldn't handle the aftermath of gossip and cold stares, so she ended up leaving the village anyway.

"We can't discard those." - Scariot answered - "However, law enforcement was there before and already made their own conclusions on the matter.

"It's why we were called in the first place." - She finished.

Dailah remembered what Scariot had mentioned back in the cafe.

"Rats...?"

"Indeed. Some very suspicious bite marks and fur. Not to mention reports of noises and sightings from the locals"

"There are rats eating lampposts....?"

It sounded absurd, yet that's just how contaminated animals were.

Rats, cockroaches or other small living beings that dwelled amongst the filth of the city, those were the most common types of animals to suffer from contamination.

Even infected, they weren't all that strong by themselves, though still rather aggressive. The true danger stems from the fact they may carry dangerous pathogens with them, and those remain even after turning into beasts.

What if a group of rats carrying the plague suddenly lost all their shyness and had no qualms about attacking and biting on humans? Or even just decide to live alongside them with no shame or regard to being seen? Nibbling on their food without any restraint.

There were cures for a lot of the diseases they carried of course, but the death toll still wasn't zero.

"We don't know yet if they are eating them.... but it wouldn't be strange if we really do have a contamination case in our hands." - Scariot concluded

Arriving at the place, the two got off the crowley and went to the broken lampposts. There seemed to be five of them.

All had been covered with cloth, tied at the pole. The reason for this was simple: to avoid other animals like pigeons or cockroaches from getting in contact with the exposed glowstones, normally covered by glass.

They couldn't clean up or fix them yet either since the investigation was still underway.

Scariot removed the cloth from the closest lamppost and took a look. Dailah peered from behind.

It could only be described as bizarre.

The metal at the base, arms and top of the lamp part of the post had been chewed through. Looking at the floor, one could see the shattered glass.

This clearly wasn't a human's handiwork.

"By the great mother, they ate the metal until the glass panel fell off."

"...can rats even do this? Are they contaminated after all?"

"Actually, it's not impossible for normal rats... but they'd have to be quite desperate to do something like this."

Looking closely at the multiple bite marks, it was even possible to spot traces of blood.

"And i can't see any other reason why they'd go through such lengths."

The glowstone inside the lamp had been thoroughly eaten, leaving very little of it behind.

Contaminated animals are attracted to things that contain mana energy, like addicts scavenging for more drugs.

Of course, there are different degrees of attraction. It's not uncommon to instinctively avoid more dangerous targets, or to ignore things without sufficient mana to satiate their lust.

Checking the other lamps, they had been all in similar states. There were two of them where the rats didn't drop the glass panels, but instead dug small passages to its insides through the metal, leaving behind half-broken half-eaten stones.

Scariot collected some of the broken glowstone pieces with obvious bite marks, some fur stuck at the borders of the holes, as well as some pieces of the metal with clear dry blood on them. It was easy to peel them off in their sorry state. She put them all in a few small transparent bags.

They were to be sent back to the Association for analysis, but according to her, it would be unlikely for any conclusive results to come from those things.

Scariot finished scribbling something on a notebook she pulled from her trench coat. Dailah figured it was meant for reports, making a mental note to carry one of her own too in the future.

After finishing the job, they covered the lamps with the cloth again and got on the crowley.

"Did we really need to come here...? Wasn't even law enforcement able to figure out what caused this?"

"It doesn't work like that Dailah. No matter how much they conclude on their own, procedure still dictates the need for a 'professional' confirmation if it's something outside their expertise.

"They likely weren't as aware of the rat problem as we were either."

It made sense, but Dailah still couldn't get over the inefficiency of the whole process.

"Don't look at me like that, this is merely how things go in the city. And enough about rats for the moment, it is time for the truly troublesome part of today's job."

Dailah tilted her head in doubt, deciding to confirm with her again.

"Aren't we just supposed to inspect a laundry now?"

"Indeed. And imagine how thankful they'll be! Everyone appreciates having two witches getting between them and their breadwinner.

"Wouldn't you agree?" - Scariot finished, giving her a bitter smile.

Dailah felt her stomach knotting again.

XXX

As it turns out, Scariot knew this particular laundry owner. And as expected, she had given her trouble in the past. In fact, Dailah just remembered the passing comments about "aggressive laundry owners" back at the cafe.

After getting to the right address, they stopped in front of a small two-store building with a sign up in front. Seems they also rented apartments here.

Going inside, Dailah was greeted by a row of washing machines, big cube-shaped pieces of equipments that made a lot of rattling noise. Back in her hometown only a few households, hers included, had one of those.

There was a similar place close to her current apartment, though the machines there seemed to be... newer? Dailah couldn't help but notice the dirt and rust clinging to the ones here, as well as the mold accumulating in the corners of the walls.

She had read once these were based off an ancient design, though they were powered differently. It was a strange feeling, knowing civilizations from nearly a thousand years ago enjoyed some of the same conveniences as her.

Even so, the majority of people on the countryside opted for using the manual versions rather their magically powered counterparts. Instead of magic it required the presence of a person, turning a lever and constantly tending to it.

The process always looked tedious to the girl when she saw the houseladies at the task. Swapping clothes, changing the water, then turning the lever again, repeating this process for half an hour or more depending on the amount of dirty garments to wash.

Surprisingly enough though, when inquiring the ladies out of curiosity, many of them actually enjoyed the activity. It gave them the opportunity to think and ponder on life they said, some time alone with their own minds.

Only a few of the machines here were in operation. Soon, in front of one of them, they spotted a woman. Squatting, staring hypnotically at the turning clothes inside.

"Greetings, Ms. Dana." - Scariot called out the woman.

Dana absentmindedly turned her head to them.

And visibly stiffened.

She quickly regained her composure, stood straight and returned the greeting.

"Ms. Inspector! I thought you were supposed to come yesterday..."

"I had some unexpected circumstances, but it should be fine to do it today.

"May I?" - Scariot said, giving a meaningful smile to the woman.

What followed was Scariot checking each of the machine's mana stones.

Mana, although technically just a form of energy, could manifest in different ways.

There was the ethereal state, which was just mana in its natural energy format. It couldn't be seen with the naked eye, nor it had a physical shape. Witches naturally emitted and manipulated this type of mana.

Solid state, which was usually just rocks and minerals that absorbed and 'stored' ethereal mana within them. Could normally be found inside dungeons, although it was also possible to manufacture them on the surface through artificial means. Those were the typically called mana stones.

No, you could not collect mana stones from magical beasts, that is just a myth. Though the materials from monster's bodies did have special properties of their own.

Liquid state, highly concentrated mana in its purest form. Also highly volatile and dangerous. Could be made inside labs at low quantities, and found in the deepest depths of certain dungeons. No living being should touch or handle liquid mana carelessly.

Gaseous state, extremely rare and usually formed as a side-effect of the highly concentrated liquid mana. One must never breath these fumes.

Out of these, for common people, the solid state of mana was what they were most familiar with. Mined from the dungeons, they were used to power all sorts of tools and equipment.

Of course, not all mana stones are the same. There are different qualities to them, as well as a limit to their use.

At first, Dailah wanted to examine the equipment by herself, to split the work betweem the two and speed things up. She knew what to look for when inspecting the stones. However Scariot refused and told the girl to accompany her instead.

She opened one of the idle machines, where the stone that powers it was placed.

There were many ways to identify the degree in which a mana stone had been utilized, as well as if they were nearing the end of their useful life. Unfortunately most of them involved analysis in a lab, or equipment that couldn't be easily carried around.

All an inspector could rely on was its trained eyes and knowledge.

One may wonder why those needed inspecting in the first place. The answer is simple: overly depleted mana stones became brittle. They released dust that still carried traces of mana, having small pieces of it falling off. In some extreme cases, a overburdened stone may even burst, spreading even more contaminated particles and fragments around.

Sure enough, those weren't dangerous on their own, perhaps not even enough to infect a bug, but contact with them over prolonged periods of time can cause some issues, including health ones for humans. It may also lead small creatures to develop a taste for mana and magic, even if they aren't enough to fully contaminate them by themselves.

That is why it is important to make sure they are being properly handled across the city. Even on the countryside inspectors came every now and then to check machinery and appliances. Dailah remembers how her mother would always complain when someone came to inspect the equipment she used.

Scariot pulled out the stone from the machine, scrutinizing it from up-close while frowning.

It had a subtle shine which should indicate it was in good state, whereas mana stones with high mileage tended to look more and more dull with use. But Dailah felt something was amiss in its hue.

Scariot pulled a small pocket knive and started scratching the surface of the stone. After a few swipes, pieces of it started coming off.

That should not happen.

"Ms. Dana..." - the woman who was watching the process from behind froze, cold sweat pouring down from her forehead - "...you didn't happen to coat these stones in varnish did you?"

"W-Well, y-you see-e... i-i was just c-cleaning.. y-yes! I w-was cleaning everything and... t-thought they would look nice like t-that........."

"Right....."

After that, the two went around more machines. Some of them still had mana stones in proper condition, albeit barely, while a few others were in a similar state to the one they checked before.

Naturally, they also had to check other components of the machines. And they did find further irregularities, though nothing as extreme.

It became clear the owner of the laundry had been stretching the usage of the stones to their very limits.

...and she tried to cover up the poor state some were in. Attempting to suck out every last drop of mana long past the stone's expiration. It was possible, just not safe.

"Ms. Dana.... i think its very obvious what you were trying to do here. I'll have to take the depleted mana stones with me both for safety concerns... as well as potential evidence." - Scariot said to the owner, trying her hardest not to facepalm.

"D-didn't i say i was just cleaning them!? Are you accusing me of something!?!?" - The woman on the other hand completely lost her cool.

"That is not for me to decide. Besides, you did broke regulations, and not for the first time either. I'm sorry but i don't think you'll be able to keep your permit after this."

"N-no..."

While there was some degree of freedom for the usage of mana stones, above a certain threshold one would need a permit. That made owners of certain business, like Ms. Dana, the main focus of these inspections. Regular residences on the other hand tended to have it easier.

Scariot began going around the washing machines again, collecting the depleted stones.

"W-wait! I-if you need something, i'm sure-"

"Don't dig your grave further Ms. Dana."

Dailah watched in a Daze as the owner started screaming.

"...!! Do you have any idea how tight these last few months have been!? There is no way i could afford changing these stones all the time like you want me to! I'm not rich like you witches!!"

Scariot coldly removed the stones one by one without saying anything back, turning off the equipment as needed.

Dailah snapped out of her daze and hastily readied herself in case the woman got violent.

Fortunately, it seems she was able to maintain enough rationality to know there would be no chance for her to stand against two witches.

At some point the owner just plopped down on the floor while holding her face, crying.

"...be well, Ms. Dana." - Scariot said as she left, a regretful look on her face. Dailah followed after her.

The woman said nothing back.

As they left the establishment, mounting the crowley, they decided to eat some lunch, as the sun had gone past its zenith some time ago.

XXX

"Are you disappointed?" - Scariot asked the silent girl as they ate a sandwich on the move.

"Well...." - Dailah gave some thought after swallowing the food - "...was it really fine to take things that far?"

"She had plenty of chances. As i mentioned, that wasn't her first rodeo.

"Besides, trying to hide irregularities is a much worse offense. She might've still been able to do something otherwise."

"Even so...."

Scariot let out a sigh at the visage of the forlorn witch.

"Listen Dailah. There is no shortage of pointless and bothersome regulations in the Association, government or wherever else. Rules that do nothing but get in the way of citizens and honest workers alike. I know them well, and i'll always be the first to affirm you that.

"But this..." - Scariot pulled out one of the depleted stones, now covered in a plastic bag.

"This isn't one of them." - she said shaking the contents.

"The mana contaminated dust of these things would cover the laundry, get into the clothes of people being washed there. Anyone who used that place regularly would be at risk of developing health problems later in life, not to mention the usual issues with small animals and insects."

"..."

"That owner may have looked pitful, but she is also a fool who cares naught for the consequences of her recklessness.

"Stopping such fools before its too late is part of our responsibility." - Scariot said, finishing her food.

While Dailah understood what she was saying, she still couldn't help but feel bad as she recalled the image of the crying woman. Her own mother also ran a business that relied on mana stones, and she couldn't help but overlap the two figures.

Even if her mother did act more responsibly.

As Dailah finished her food, Scariot urged her for their next and last stop for the day.

"Enough chit-chat, this last one should be more simple. At least the old lady didn't cause problems before. Although...."

Great, what comes now?

"She has some rather peculiar hobbies... and oh how she likes to prate about them." - Scariot said, tightening her expression.

They eventually arrived at a place with a plaque that read "The Great Doll Mausoleum".

Before entering, Scariot turned to the girl.

"Here's the plan. You distract her while i do the inspection."

"...distract her?"

"Just chat a bit, keep her off my back."

"...why don't i do the inspection while you speak?"

"I'm the experienced woman here. Besides, you have no idea how many times i had to hear her going on and on in length about those cursed dolls!"

She harumphed, hands on her hips.

"Three times! Thats how many."

Proceeding to the inside of the building, what greeted Dailah was a place that looked like a museum. Many glass panes filled with cloth dolls acting up scenarios behind them, others just exposed to the air over big pedestals.

Some of the props would even move! The girl's eyes shone at the scenary.

There was a decorated doll inside a dungeon-looking place facing up against a group of large beasts. Miniature trains moving around multiple small villages, with a machinist doll sitting on the roof of the front cart. A dragon atop a mountain while multiple witch-looking dolls surrounded it from below.

It all looked so incredible.

"Oh, Scariot, how have you been? And who is this?"

An old lady in her sixties came out from the back. She was a bit short, the years clearly claimed their price but she still managed to maintain a deep black hair on her head. Maybe tinture?

"Hello Mrs. Elah. This kid here is the newcomer."

Kid?

"She seems very interested in your work here. Why don't you show her some more of it?" - Scariot said, giving a devilish smile to Dailah.

Upon hearing these words, a strange light emerged from Elah's eyes.

Dailah, noticing the strange atmosphere, had cold sweat pouring from all over her body.

The old lady approached, suspiciously rubbing her hands.

"Oh my, oh my! Its so difficult to find young maidens captivated by this Elah's work! It'll be my pleasure to show you everything that i have!"

The girl wanted to scream, but sounds refused to come out of her throath.

XXX

In truth, it wasn't as bad as Dailah initially feared. Sure, the old lady went on and on about the most mundane aspects of her art, but the results themselves were still quite well made and beautiful.

...though she can imagine how this show would get bothersome throughout multiple iterations.

Apparently Mrs. Elah had long retired and had quite a bit of money saved by the end of her carrer. Her kids and grandkids didn't need it as they were well-off themselves, so she decided to pour it all onto her doll-making hobby.

While this "Mausoleum" still accepted some donations and sold a few products, it made no real profit and was always operating in the red. It truly existed just for Elah's own satisfaction.

"And this one, this is Olam, my sweetheart." - she said pulling out a doll that looked like a blonde man.

"How charming of a man he was... gave me three excellent daughters. Reserved on the outside, but proactive when it counted.

"If you understand what i mean" - the old lady proclaimed, wiggling her eyebrows meaningfully to Dailah, to which the girl could only respond with a wry laugh.

Many of the dolls she showed off were based off real people she met, as well as historic figures and fictional characters from stories.

The one in her hands right now seemed to be a lover from the old woman's past.

...she had also noticed a strange bulge in the doll's pants, but Dailah opted not to comment on it.

Occasionally, the girl would glance towards Scariot, who was checking the condition of multiple pieces of equipment used for doll making, like tailor machines of different sizes and types, or generators responsible for keeping some of the props running.

Even the lighting of the place used electricity from that generator rather than glowstones. According to the woman, the type of illumination they produced matched her exhibitions more appropriately.

Taking advantage of the rare pause caused by the old lady's banter, Dailah decided to sneak in an unrelated question, even if only to change the subject for a bit.

"Right, Mrs. Elah, have you had any problems with rats lately?"

The woman gave some thought and affirmed.

"Yes, for a while now i've seen some rats sneaking around the building. The little critters, they will ruin my babies if i just let them be!"

"Was there any abnormal behavior with them? Were they trying to get into your equipment or the generator?"

"Now that you mention it... indeed they were always hanging around the doll-making room. Sometimes i eat there while working, so i thought i must've dropped food somewhere

"I even caught one in a trap i set up earlier this morning."

Dailah perked up at that comment. She turned towards Scariot and noticed her listening to the conversation. After using her eyes to ask the implicit question, she gave the girl a nod of consent.

"...do you still have the corpse?"

Pausing everything they were doing, the old lady lead the two to the rat's body, inside a tied bag that was still on the trash can outside.

Scariot took it and put it inside another one of those transparent pouches she had with her, albeit a slightly larger one. Then, pulling out her notebook, she began writing on her report.

As a matter of fact, based on what Scariot had said, this wasn't the first rat from this wave of 'attacks' that had been caught. According to her all the previous ones showed negative results for mana contamination, so they needed as much suspicious samples as they could get.

"We've been having quite a problem with these pests lately. Oh right! Scariot, you know Mrs. Tristah correct?"

Scariot's hands that were scribbling on the notebook froze.

"Poor woman. I can't even imagine how it must feel to lose an young son. The death of a boy is always so tragic, makes me question if Great Mother truly watches over us."

"....yes, i heard of it." - Scariot answered as she resumed writing down her notes.

"And all because of these damn rats! Listen, Dailah my dear, whenever you get bitten, don't just shrug it off alright? Oh! What am i saying, you of all people doesn't need to hear that right?"

"I suppose..."

As she concluded, the three went inside again to finish their job. Scariot worked in silence as Dailah kept Mrs. Elah busy, though she couldn't hear the woman's words no more.

She would occasionally steal some glances at her coworker.

XXX

After wrapping everything up, the sun was already setting. As Scariot predicted each job took a while to finish, not to mention locomotion time. Dailah had agreed earlier to take her home when night came.

Apparently there was no need to pass through the association as long as they presented each day's report at the end of the week, but they still went there regardless to promptly deliver all the samples that had been gathered throughout the day.

Scariot had been eerily silent ever since they left the "Mausoleum", as the girl guided the crowley through the streets. She had some conjectures to explain the sudden shift in behavior, but didn't really know how to breach the subject - or whether she should.

In the end, the woman opened her mouth first.

"...change of plans Dailah, take me to Beulah's"

"Now?"

"You heard me." - she answered with a bit of a harsh tone.

They had left the association some time ago, and going to Epicure street now would mean she had to backtrack. Still, Dailah decided to comply with her request.

Epicure street was still busy at night. However, many of the crude stalls of the morning were either gone or sold different types of food. A lot of restaurants and bars wore different looks on their interiors, places that were closed during the day now opened their doors.

Proceeding through the familiar alley, she stopped at the cafe she had come to earlier in the day. Except this time the sign read "Beulah's Bar" and had a different set of dishes listed below.

The inside bursted with more life than before, not to mention the bar counter she was able to peek from outside was now filled with bottles and costumers.

Scariot got off the crowley, saying a few parting words.

"I hope you were able to grasp some of the things that await you here kid."

"...i'm not a kid, just call me by my name like you were doing before."

"Sure, sure, sorry about that. See you later Dailah."

The woman turned her back and went inside while giving a light wave of the hand, not even waiting for an answer.

Dailah watched her entering the bar with a complicated expression. She turned the crowley back, guiding him out of the alley, reminiscing about the previous few hours.

For a moment she considered joining Scariot inside but her body couldn't hide its tiredness, both physical and mental. All she wanted now was to take a bath and plop up on her bed.

Perhaps she was still just a kid after all.