Olivia's Wand Shop
Decades change the landscape, and centuries transform the world. Even the Empire's premier institution of magical education, Arcana Academy, couldn't resist that relentless tide. Every year brought a cycle of shops blooming and withering away in endless repetition. Every decade reshaped the streets themselves, and after more than a century, nothing of the old world remained recognizable. While the world spun onward in frantic change, only one shop clung to the visage of ages past.
[Olivia's Wand Shop]
[since 652]
It was the name of the sole survivor, preserving bygone elegance smack in the middle of the new era.
"Production Record #173689, olive wood body and sapphire core."
The silver-haired girl's voice rang clear and melodious through the dim workshop. For a witch who'd lived a thousand years, it was impossibly pure and bright. Under the glow of the workbench lamp, tweezers lifted a thin sapphire shard. The transparent gem gleamed with a blue hue, mirroring the girl's sapphire eyes exactly—the birthstone of September, sparkling beautifully as it caught the light.
"The olive tree's flower language is peace, dominion, prosperity."
Her small hand raised the eight-inch olive wand she'd meticulously carved. Opening the base revealed a tiny cavity perfect for the sapphire shard.
"And..."
She adjusted the device on her right eye's precision monocle. An extra lens layered onto the microscope-like magnifier sharpened her view even further.
"The sapphire embodies truth, sincerity, peace."
With that, she scrutinized the delicate sapphire shard pinched in the tweezers. The core was the wand's heart—no impurities, no flaws could be tolerated in its gemstone. Unfortunately, this backward medieval land lacked precision machinery, meaning everything had to be done by hand. That was why most wandmakers churned out mass-produced junk.
It took about ten minutes of meticulous inspection—hunting scratches down to the millimeter—before the girl nodded in satisfaction. She slotted the razor-thin sapphire into the wand's base. It fit like a glove, no gaps whatsoever. Her rosebud lips curved into a faint smile at the sight.
"Now for the last step..."
Sealing the base completely, she scooped up the finished wand with practiced ease. Infusing it with mana brought the faint fruity scent of olive wood tickling her nose—a sure sign that magic now dwelled within.
"Time for a performance test, I suppose?"
Olives had symbolized peace since ancient times. Sapphire's birthstone meaning echoed that. Materials and core both screamed peace—peace squared, theoretically granting exceptional healing and protection.
"...If I carved it right, that is."
Her voice trembled faintly as she removed the work monocle. Without hesitation, she drew a chisel across her wrist.
"Tch...!"
The sting was brief; as her pulse hit the wound, crimson droplets welled up. Pain had no room to intrude—this was the moment her labor of love faced judgment. The thrill and desperation of it flooded her with adrenaline, enough to banish any discomfort.
"Haa..."
Breathing out a heated moan, she gripped the wand again, aiming it at her wounded wrist. It trembled with excitement. Then, success bloomed.
"...!"
No incantation needed—the wand unleashed azure particles that enveloped the gash. The wrist, dripping blood moments ago, healed flawlessly, as if nothing had happened.
"That's more like it...!"
Her lips stretched ear-to-ear. A wand that auto-cast healing on its owner's pain, sans spellwork. This rivaled the sacred relics of churches boasting millennia of history. With a touch of hyperbole... it could elevate an ordinary priest to saintess level. Combat clerics would kill for it. With this base, maybe she could finally craft it—the ultimate wand of her thousand-year dreams.
Suppressing her pounding heart, she sprang to her feet. Dopamine surged through her brain, erasing a week's fatigue from all-nighters.
Where to test this beast's full power? Her blue eyes scanned the cramped workshop, landing on the towering stack of newspapers by the door.
"Huh, when did the papers pile up like that?"
Seems weeks' worth had accumulated while she obsessed over the wand. Whatever. The paper heap was perfect for a mana blast test. Heart racing with unbridled dopamine, she threw all caution—and her scant remaining mana—into the wand, consequences be damned.
"Hrah...!"
A light-green magic circle, symbol of wind, materialized above the wand. Gale-force winds whipped her black robe and threatened to fling off her deeply seated witch hat. No matter. Cleanup was future-her's problem—
The girl, Olivia, swung the wand with utter confidence for a 3rd Circle spell, Wind Blade.
"Eh...?"
...Nothing happened.
"Wait, why...?"
It didn't take long to figure out. Double peace symbolism made the wand reject offensive magic outright. Proof? A simple cleanup spell worked fine: 3rd CircleWind Sweep, at way above average power.
Newspapers scattered everywhere in the wind gusts.
"...Ah."
Seeing the flying mess drained her energy. A month's sleep deprivation crashed down at once. Olivia flopped onto the sofa without resistance, curling into her cloak like a burrito. The sleeping girl's face was angelically cute.