Miliam was dining on a space station orbiting a planet dozens of light-years from Earth. If she’d been asked what she expected the appetizer of a full-course meal on West-Gate Station would be, she would have guessed it to be something entirely alien. What she found in front of her right now was a loaded potato skin.

  She wasn’t sure if that was comforting or disappointing.

  Since Zephus had vanished into thin air the moment Miliam’s attention shifted to the food, she decided it was acceptable to go ahead and take a bite- though she remembered to check and make sure Abigail was doing the same first since she didn’t know the proper etiquette. With the scholar already lifting her own potato kin to her mouth, Miliam did the same.

  After testing the morsel carefully to make sure it wasn’t too hot, Miliam took a bite. It wasn’t just cool enough to eat; it was as if the potato skin had been heated to exactly the perfect temperature, rendering the cheese soft while being just below the point where it would burn the mouth. But once it was in her mouth, Miliam realized she’d been incorrect from the start. This wasn’t a potato at all, and if there was cheese on it, it wasn’t a variety she’d ever had before.

  If she were to compare the taste to something she’d eaten before…well, she couldn’t. The closest thing she could think of was that it tasted like smelling a flower. She’d tried eating a few petals of a pleasantly scented flower as a child and didn’t remember it tasting like much, but the flavor of the appetizer was almost like what she’d imagined a flower petal would taste like. As for the texture, it was closest to a baked apple if anything.

  “Mm!” she hummed as she finished the food in her mouth and swallowed. “It’s nice, but hard to describe. Do you know what it is?”

  “Likely some sort of root-vegetable like the potato that was bred by the harpies. The cheese is likely derived from griffon milk- it only makes sense given this is a harpy-owned restaurant,” Abigail posited between bites. Miliam cocked her head to the side.

  “Griffons produce milk? Wouldn’t the beaks make nursing kind of dangerous?” she asked, deciding to skip over the question of griffons existing since it just seemed par for the course by now.

  “Indeed; their young possess lips when freshly hatched which only harden into proper beaks after weaning,” Abigail explained before taking a sip of her wine. “Ah, that is a perfect complement to the food.”

  Miliam tried the wine next. It tasted strongly of…pomegranates, she thought. It was slightly tart, contrasting the slight sweetness of the not-potato. Although she’d been prepared for the bite of the alcohol, she found that it was barely noticeable beneath the fruity taste. The drink went down very smoothly, hardly burning her throat at all.

  It took little time for Miliam to finish her appetizer, though she tried to savor it. As part of a full-course dinner, though, it wasn’t really intended to be enough food to satisfy. Soon both she and Abigail were done and resumed their conversation.

  “I’m curious,” Miliam started. “Why go into archaeology instead of enchanting? You seem to be interested in it since your thesis was all about enchanting your robes.”

  “My reasons were simple. Enchanters are always in demand, but the field is highly competitive due to an overabundance of practitioners. Most never rise beyond the level of rote reproduction of basic magic tools. I may be fond of enchanting, but I judged my skills insufficient to stand out. Hence, it was better to enter a less competitive field in which I would still have opportunities to learn about the craft,” Abigail explained evenly, apparently unbothered by the detour in careers.

  “That’s a lot like my field of programming in my time…except I didn’t realize how bad it would be once I graduated. Everyone was always pushing tech jobs and insisting there would always be a demand for programmers, so I didn’t realize how hard it would actually be to get a job until I started applying,” Miliam commiserated. She felt a certain detachment to those memories, though. They were from another life.

  “I would hazard a guess that that state of affairs has lasted until the current day, I am afraid,” Abigail commented. “Enchanting took up much the same position as the supposedly ever-stable field without ever entirely displacing programming in that respect. Had you any familiarity with modern coding I expect you would experience major déjà vu.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I’m a captain now instead of a programmer. Code is pretty similar to how spells are written, though, so it’s made learning magic a lot easier,” Miliam replied. Although she hadn’t had to use magic much since coming here, she’d been able to learn a fair few spells in her downtime. They just…weren’t very useful on a day-to-day basis.

  “Modern magic was developed first by scientists and only later by mages- when humanity rediscovered it, there had not been any practitioners for two centuries or so,” Abigail explained, leaning forward with a smile. This was likely her favorite topic. “Did you know the first modern spell was cast by complete accident? A scientist was preparing a graphic for a presentation and stylized it in a manner that functioned as a spell. Circles are the best method for arranging spells, but others are possible, and one of these was stumbled upon by the caster.”

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  “I read a bit about it when I first arrived, but I was more focused on when it happened at the time…how’d he gather the mana needed for it by accident, though?” Miliam inquired, her own interest piqued now.

  “He- ah, his name was David Bishop- never elaborated. I have viewed interviews he participated in from that era, and he always appeared somewhat embarrassed when that specific question arose. Would you like to hear my theory?” Abigail offered, smiling tightly- not as if it was forced, but as if she was holding in a laugh.

  “Sure?” Miliam asked, wondering what was so funny.

  “Have you ever witnessed children pretending to perform techniques they have imagined or seen in fiction during play? I suspect Dr. Bishop was in the midst of something similar. A flight of fancy. Envisioning himself drawing some sort of imagined power to himself while his hand happened to be in contact with his spell. So long as he understood what the equations he had written down defined, that would likely be enough,” Abigail posited with barely contained laughter.

  “Wait, why would a random equation be able to do that, though?” Miliam wondered, more perplexed than amused.

  “His equation was theoretical- modern science has long since disproved his hypothesis false, in fact. This was precisely why it worked. With mana infused into the equation, which defined a physical phenomenon that could never occur, a spell was formed that bent reality to make it possible.” Abigail paused to take a sip of her wine. “He was lucky his impromptu spell didn’t kill him. His attempts to determine precisely what had happened led to the creation of modern magic.”

  “That’s one hell of a mistake…I can see why he’d keep the truth a secret if that’s really what happened,” Miliam observed dryly. “I wouldn’t have wanted to be in the history books for something that silly if I were in his position.”

  “The irony is that you should have been.” Miliam’s brows wrinkled in confusion, but Abigail didn’t leave her wondering for long. “Had you not cast two spells at once, your change would have been impossible to hide. It would quickly have become apparent you had found a genuine grimoire full of working spells. From what you have said, magic did not exist before you left- if so, your spell would have become known as the first instead.”

  “I…never really thought about it that way. Huh,” Miliam replied, dumbfounded. She’d come incredibly close to being a part of history by complete accident. Not that she had ever really had a desire to do so. Missing her chance wasn’t that big of a deal to her. Abigail seemed to take her bafflement for disappointment, though, judging by her next words.

  “Well, no need for regrets. You shall have your second opportunity soon enough,” the scholar said mysteriously. When Miliam didn’t respond, Abigail continued. “Had you not realized yet? You are the captain of the ship which retrieved the legacy of a lost civilization- one known to have existed but of which almost nothing was known. Once enough of that data has been studied for scientific papers on it to be released, your name will spread as its discoverer.”

  “Wha!? Miliam exclaimed, hurriedly cutting herself off when she recalled where she was. “I don’t want to be famous. I can’t imagine anything good coming from me or my ship being that well known.”

  “I suppose if you feel that strongly regarding the idea then you may stipulate your name be left out once negotiations begin. You would likely garner more than just attention, however. Being connected to such a significant find would not just bring more work your way- you might even be able to make a living as a public speaker just by recounting the story,” Abigail advised. It wasn’t quite that simple from Miliam’s perspective, though.

  “No, you don’t understand. Half of my crew need the anonymity. It wouldn’t be just my name that got out- people would want to know about the entire crew,” Miliam whispered seriously. Acknowledging her concern, Abigail nodded.

  “I understand. I will not inquire further in relation to the matter- just know that you can prevent the spread of your name through the proper stipulations. But we should move onto more pleasant topics. What sort of interests do you possess?” Abigail asked, steering the conversation in the direction of a more date-appropriate topic. Miliam was silently thankful for the shift.

  She lost track of time as the date continued. Zephus delivered their next course without even interrupting the conversation, only making his presence know after the soup was on the table. It was a sort of consommé distilled from harpy staples like griffon and various forms of produce that tasted out of this world. Next came the entrée, a griffon steak with gravy derived from the meat’s juices, and at this point Miliam was starting to see a pattern.

  “Is the entire menu griffon-based…?” she wondered as she cut off a piece of the tender meat, which practically melted in her mouth. It tasted a bit like turkey, which had never been one of her favorites, but the seasoning and sauce were so flavorful as to be incomparable.

  “It would certainly appear so,” Abigail agreed as she ate her own steak. “Mayhaps the head chef has a fondness for the beasts. One the griffon population could surely do without, at that. I am tempted to partake of their meat more often, I must say.”

  “I can’t believe I’m eating a griffon,” Miliam marveled. Her eyes were a bit wide as she stared her meal down, looking for some visual indication that this wasn’t just turkey, but it was obviously impossible to tell just from a cooked slice of meat. “What’s next, dragons?”

  “Not impossible, but somewhat frowned upon. Unintelligent as they may be, dragons are kin to the lizardfolk and their consumption is understandably taboo,” Abigail noted in such a tone that Miliam could hardly tell if she was joking or not. “Of course, in this case the beasts were merely named after the creatures of legend. They were derived from an Observer experiment and have no language of their own, you see.”

  “I should really just start assuming all the myths are true in some way…” Miliam replied wryly as she lifted her wine glass to her lips.

  “Indeed, that would likely save you the energy of being surprised each and every time,” Abigail agreed with a quirk of her lips.

  Miliam savored both the food and the conversation as the night pressed on. At the end of the night, she was at least confident that she hadn’t made a fool of herself.