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“Who sees that the habit-energy of the projections of the beginningless past is the cause of the three realms and who understands that the tathagata stage is free from projections or anything that arises, attains the personal realisation of buddha knowledge and effortless mastery over their own minds” —The Lankavatara Sutra, 2.8 (trans. Red Pine).
“To trace the ripples of a beginningless sea is to chase a horizon that vanishes with each step; only by stilling the waves does the ocean reveal its boundless, unbroken clarity.”
~Echoes of the Vanished Shore, Selwyn Lemone.
What if the story would unfold in reverse this time? Would the struggle subsist, to remember the past events written comment after comment? Rather than writing towards a future, and —maybe— an elusive ending, would remembering layer after layers of events from the past change our outlook on why we write at all?
Let’s just have ourselves a new playground, a new experiment as this year draws to a close.
Four friends meet unexpectedly in a busy café, after five years not having seen each other.
Matteo, the server arrives, like a resonant fifth, bringing resolution to the root note —they all seem to know him, but why.
Answers are in their pasts. And story has to unfold backwards, a step at a time, to a beginningless past.
In reply to: The Incense of the Quadrivium’s Mystiques
“Why are you grunting like that Chantelle”, Maurice asked, “Are you in pain?”
Laughing, she replied that she was only grunting out of politeness because the woman in the future expected it. “I don’t think they’re very bright, to be honest. You should see the postcards she sends, everywhere looks weird. Hardly any trees or animals, but all cluttered with strange lumps of grey. And their writing has no sound, not like ours. I’m struggling to decipher the messages”
Maurice leaned his best spear up against the cave wall. “Here, I brought you some nice feathers for your hair.” He wasn’t sure what to make of Chantelle’s invisible friend, and rather wished she’d drop it and do some more painting on the walls.
“Ooh, how pretty! Glad you didn’t bring any more shellfish home, I’m absolutely stuffed on shellfish.”
In reply to: The Elusive Samuel Housley and Other Family Stories
Elton Marshall’s
Early Quaker Emigrants to USA.
The earliest Marshall in my tree is Charles Marshall (my 5x great grandfather), Overseer of the Poor and Churchwarden of Elton. His 1819 gravestone in Elton says he was 77 years old when he died, indicating a birth in 1742, however no baptism can be found.
According to the Derbyshire records office, Elton was a chapelry of Youlgreave until 1866. The Youlgreave registers date back to the mid 1500s, and there are many Marshalls in the registers from 1559 onwards. The Elton registers however are incomplete due to fire damage.
While doing a google books search for Marshall’s of Elton, I found many American family history books mentioning Abraham Marshall of Gratton born in 1667, who became a Quaker aged 16, and emigrated to Pennsylvania USA in 1700. Some of these books say that Abraham’s parents were Humphrey Marshall and his wife Hannah Turner. (Gratton is a tiny village next to Elton, also in Youlgreave parish.)
Abraham’s son born in USA was also named Humphrey. He was a well known botanist.
Abraham’s cousin John Marshall, also a Quaker, emigrated from Elton to USA in 1687, according to these books.
(There are a number of books on Colonial Families in Pennsylvania that repeat each other so impossible to cite the original source)
In the Youlgreave parish registers I found a baptism in 1667 for Humphrey Marshall son of Humphrey and Hannah. I didn’t find a baptism for Abraham, but it looks as though it could be correct. Abraham had a son he named Humphrey. But did it just look logical to whoever wrote the books, or do they know for sure? Did the famous botanist Humphrey Marshall have his own family records? The books don’t say where they got this information.
An earlier Humphrey Marshall was baptised in Youlgreave in 1559, his father Edmund. And in 1591 another Humphrey Marshall was baptised, his father George.
But can we connect these Marshall’s to ours? We do have an Abraham Marshall, grandson of Charles, born in 1792. The name isn’t all that common, so may indicate a family connection. The villages of Elton, Gratton and Youlgreave are all very small and it would seem very likely that the Marshall’s who went the USA are related to ours, if not brothers, then probably cousins.
Derbyshire Quakers
In “Derbyshire Quakers 1650-1761” by Helen Forde:
“… Friends lived predominantly in the northern half of the country during this first century of existence. Numbers may have been reduced by emigration to America and migration to other parts of the country but were never high and declined in the early eighteenth century. Predominantly a middle to lower class group economically, Derbyshire Friends numbered very few wealthy members. Many were yeoman farmers or wholesalers and it was these groups who dominated the business meetings having time to devote themselves to the Society. Only John Gratton of Monyash combined an outstanding ministry together with an organising ability which brought him recognition amongst London Friends as well as locally. Derbyshire Friends enjoyed comparatively harmonious relations with civil and Anglican authorities, though prior to the Toleration Act of 1639 the priests were their worst persecutors…..”
Also mentioned in this book: There were monthly meetings in Elton, as well as a number of other nearby places.
John Marshall of Elton 1682/3 appears in a list of Quaker emigrants from Derbyshire.
The following image is a page from the 1753 book on the sufferings of Quakers by Joseph Besse as an example of some of the persecutions of Quakers in Derbyshire in the 1600s:
A collection of the sufferings of the people called Quakers, for the testimony of a good conscience from the time of their being first distinguished by that name in the year 1650 to the time of the act commonly called the Act of toleration granted to Protestant dissenters in the first year of the reign of King William the Third and Queen Mary in the year 1689 (Volume 1)
Besse, Joseph. 1753Note the names Margaret Marshall and Anne Staley. This book would appear to contradict Helen Forde’s statement above about the harmonious relations with Anglican authority.
The Botanist
Humphry Marshall 1722-1801 was born in Marshallton, Pennsylvania, the son of the immigrant from Elton, Abraham Marshall. He was the cousin of botanists John Bartram and William Bartram. Like many early American botanists, he was a Quaker. He wrote his first book, A Few Observations Concerning Christ, in 1755.
In 1785, Marshall published Arbustrum Americanum: The American Grove, an Alphabetical Catalogue of Forest Trees and Shrubs, Natives of the American United States (Philadelphia).
Marshall has been called the “Father of American Dendrology”.
A genus of plants, Marshallia, was named in honor of Humphry Marshall and his nephew Moses Marshall, also a botanist.
In 1848 the Borough of West Chester established the Marshall Square Park in his honor. Marshall Square Park is four miles east of Marshallton.
via Wikipedia.
From The History of Chester County Pennsylvania, 1881, by J Smith Futhey and Gilbert Cope:
From The Chester Country History Center:
“Immediately on the Receipt of your Letter, I ordered a Reflecting Telescope for you which was made accordingly. Dr. Fothergill had since desired me to add a Microscope and Thermometer, and will
pay for the whole.’– Benjamin Franklin to Humphry, March 18, 1770
“In his lifetime, Humphry Marshall made his living as a stonemason, farmer, and miller, but eventually became known for his contributions to astronomy, meteorology, agriculture, and the natural sciences.
In 1773, Marshall built a stone house with a hothouse, a botanical laboratory, and an observatory for astronomical studies. He established an arboretum of native trees on the property and the second botanical garden in the nation (John Bartram, his cousin, had the first). From his home base, Humphry expanded his botanical plant exchange business and increased his overseas contacts. With the help of men like Benjamin Franklin and the English botanist Dr. John Fothergill, they eventually included German, Dutch, Swedish, and Irish plant collectors and scientists. Franklin, then living in London, introduced Marshall’s writings to the Royal Society in London and both men encouraged Marshall’s astronomical and botanical studies by supplying him with books and instruments including the latest telescope and microscope.
Marshall’s scientific work earned him honorary memberships to the American Philosophical Society and the Philadelphia Society for Promoting Agriculture, where he shared his ground-breaking ideas on scientific farming methods. In the years before the American Revolution, Marshall’s correspondence was based on his extensive plant and seed exchanges, which led to further studies and publications. In 1785, he authored his magnum opus, Arbustum Americanum: The American Grove. It is a catalog of American trees and shrubs that followed the Linnaean system of plant classification and was the first publication of its kind.”
In reply to: The Incense of the Quadrivium’s Mystiques
“When did you arrive?” asked Truella when they found her in her at her Cloacina booth in faux-fur waterproof boots and a faux-bear-fur cape with a waterproofed silk hood to protect her perfect hairdo from the incessant drizzle. It gave her a look of one of those Fantasy warrior-goddess ready to intervene at the last minute to save her chosen champions from complete destruction by the forces of evil.
“Well, I’ve been there all along,” retorted the glamour witch, moving two little loos in front of the booth closer together. “I’ve been living in Limerick since the start of this story, even if it wasn’t clear where. Granny Linda thinks I’m living in Glamorheaven and Finnley think I’m living in London, but I’m pretty sure it’s Limerick. At least it is in my mind manor,” she said as if for herself. “There!” she said. Her face lit up as she just found the perfect orientation for the loos. “Don’t those miniature loos look cute?”
“Sure,” said Truella. At the same time she looked at Frella as if their friend had gone nut.
“Don’t ask me,” said Frella. “I didn’t make the selection of the goddesses for the olympic set.”
Jeezel took three cups, dipped them into one of the toilet bowl and offered them to her friends to drink.
Truella grimaced.
“I prefer not to drink that early in the morning,” said Frella with a polite smile.
Jeezel lifted the cup to her nose and inhaled deeply before taking a sip. “It’s connected to the purest water source on Earth through a little time sewer spell coupled with a little pump and filter and a nice chime when you throw your worries in. It’s perfectly safe and drinkable sparkling water, and it smells of roses.”
“My gran used to spray rose scent in the bathroom after she used it,” said Truella, cackling nervously.
Frella took the cup, smelled it and continued smiling.
“Anyways, those cuties are for the cleansing prayers,” said Jeezel. “Cleansing and release,” she added pointing her finger up at the banner. “That’s Cloacina’s motto. At least at this booth. And, as I’m sure you asked, I didn’t answer all your messages because I’ve been kept busy with preparing all of those. Here, Truelle, take one of those Sacred Bath Salts. I have two flavors, Moonlight Mist and Sunset Serenity. Take the second one, it’s a blend of Himalayan pink salt and rose petals. It’ll help keep you warm as the salts will absorb the extra humidity, and as an extra it’ll make you think of your gran”, she added with a grin. “As for my friend Frella…”
Truella grabbed the pouch of salts and smelled it. “The smell is not so bad,” she conceded. “And Bubona knows I need their warming qualities,” she said shaking her head to get rid of irritating water drops.
Jeezel then turned to the potion and elixirs section. “No, not purification for Frella, and neither of you need the Lover’s Elixir… Oh! Here it is, take that. A soap made of goat’s milk, honey and calendula oil for radiant skin. And good to keep the hinges perfectly oiled. And as my future gran will say, remember, keeping those hinges oiled is key to avoiding squeaky situations.”
Frella took the soap and chuckled. “Thanks.” She scratched the surface with her nail. “It’s seems good quality. And it smells good. That reminds me I have to prepare my own booth. See you later girls.”
As soon as she left. Truella leaned towards her friend and asked in a conspiratory voice: “Did you know Malove was here?”
“What?”
In reply to: The Incense of the Quadrivium’s Mystiques
It was matins, the early break of dawn at cockcrow, and the sisters had been diligent to call everyone for prayers.
Mother Lorena was expounding on the powers of prayer while Eris was struggling to keep her friends awake after the short night.
“Our Sister Hildegard,” Mother Lorena was droning, as to make everything painfully clear to the newcomers “was one of the founding members of our secret order of nun-witches as you would like to say. But make no mistake, she tapped into a power much much older. The power of prayer of the early Christians was capable of great miracles…”
“If we’re here for a history lesson, hope she tells us more about the dragons…” muttered Truella, still groggy from her sleepless night.
As if the absurdly hearing-impaired Mother superior had heard the plea, she went on “It is that same power of prayer from the early covens of nun-witches that helped vanquish the hordes of dragon-boat riding invaders.”
“Did she say dragon??”
“Ssshttt!” Jeezel and Eris shushed Truella as they were struggling to keep up with the rosary count.
“Of course, I mean the viking hordes with their drakkar boats. Such be the tale forever embedded in our embroidered tapestries.”
“She didn’t say about the frogs nuns though, has she?” Truella ventured, hoping the hearing/inspiration spell would still work.
“I suppose the frog-nuns were symbols of transformation, alchemy — or mastery about the water element from which the invaders came, or maybe just waiting for a prince’s kiss… what should I know?” Eris shrugged, mildly annoyed. Her phone was busy spewing messages. Luckily the silent prayer was over, and everyone was invited to the breakfast in the great hall.
“What’s happened?” Jeezel ventured.
Eris sighed. “I’ll have to leave you for today. Another bank errand for Austreberthe. Hope it doesn’t become a habit… Luckily she’s asked Mother Lorena to allow me to use the covent’s portal to make haste.”
She turned to Truella. “I trust you with this Tru, please don’t make a mess of it while I’m gone. There are forces at play here, and we can’t be distracted; I’ll be back as soon as I can. We still have the crypts and the reanimated nuns to investigate, but I’m sure they can wait for a few hours more.”
Before Truella could protest, Eris was on her way.
In reply to: The Incense of the Quadrivium’s Mystiques
After everyone got the program for the six rituals, they dispersed. Jeezel observed groups reform and the whereabouts of people. Eris walked alone toward the dark corridors. Truella, Sandra and Sassafras went to the gardens. Rufus followed shortly after, his dark moody eyes showing intense reflections. Jeezel noticed that Bartolo from the convent had been observing the mortician and hurried to catch up with him. Mother Lorena stood as stern as ever in the center of the lobby. She kept cupping her hands around her ears to check if her earpieces were working. Which they weren’t from the irritated look on her face. Silas was in an animated discussion with Austreberthe and the remaining nuns were laughing heartily and running around as if they had overindulged in Sister Sassafras’ hallucinogenic mushroom canapés.
Jeezel decided to go back to the lounge and explore the antiques, maybe see if there were hidden passageways behind those tapestries. She found Garrett waiting for her in the corridor as if he knew what she intended to do. His deep blue eyes seemed to embrace her whole silhouette in a myriad of unspoken emotions, and when they settle on her emerald green eyes, a subtle grin showed his appreciation.
“Don’t look back,” he said, his voice a deep velvet baritone. “Old Silas and Austreberthe are looking at us with a very disapproving look.”
Jeezel couldn’t help but chuckle softly. “And what if they do? We’re not doing anything wrong.”
Garrett’s grin widened. He took a step closer, the scent of his cologne– a tantalizing mix of cedarwood and bergamot– mingling with the faint aroma of her own enchanting perfume.
“You intrigue me, Jeezel. More than the rituals, more than any relic or spell.”
Jeezel laughed heartily. Don’t they say keep your enemy close? I have questions for him. And I wouldn’t mind the company while I’m exploring the area? she thought.
“I was about to check for secret passages in the old lounge,” she said. “Would you join me?”
She let him take her hand and guide her toward the lounge. As they entered the heavy scent of aged wood and old books greeted them. Jeezel’s eyes darted to the tapestries lining the walls, each depicting scenes of ancient rituals and forgotten histories.
“Where do you think we should start?” Garrett asked, his deep voice barely above a whisper, adding to the mysterious ambiance of the room.
Jeezel tilted her head, considering the possibilities. “That one,” she said, pointing to a particularly intricate tapestry depicting a moonlit garden. “It looks like it could hide something.” She reached out to the fabric and pulled it aside, revealing a wooden door. She tensed when she noticed lingering traces of cedarwood and bergamot. “Or someone,” she added, turning toward him. “You’ve been here recently, have you not?”
“Direct as ever. Very well. I’m here to protect and help you. You need to be careful with Silas. He has hidden motives.”
Jeezel narrowed her eyes. “And why should I trust you?”
Garrett pulled out his crimson handkerchief from his pocket, revealing a symbol embroidered in gold. Her eyes widened as identical to the one on the key Malové had given her.
“How did you get that?” she asked.
“Malové entrusted me with this,” Garret explained, “to show her chosen allies. I was told to seek you out and offer you my assistance. This symbol matches the one on your key, doesn’t it?”
Jeezel felt the weight of the key in her purse. She hadn’t shown it to anyone, not even to her friends. She felt even more confused than before. It was possible that Silas would try to divert her attention from him if he was against the merger. And what better way to do than alert her to unknown enemies. The fact that Garrett knew about the key just added a layer of complexity to the situation, but also a layer of excitement. She wondered what game was being played here, and who were the true players.
“Alright, Garrett,” she said, her voice steadying as she added, “I’ll hear you out. But if you’re lying, you’ll regret it.”
He nodded. “Faire enough. Silas isn’t just interested in the failure of the merger; he’s got his own agenda. Something to do with ancient punic artifacts and power that could rival even the Crimson Opus. And he’s not the only one. There are some ancient Punic families that are looking for the same things.”
Jeezel’s heart skipped a beat. If Silas was after the same kind of power, it could jeopardize everything—the merger, her mission, and possibly the balance of power in their world. Jeezle felt she was in way over her head. She had to breathe and connect to her inner Queen’s innate knowledge in order to slide into her role of leader.
“Then, I accept your assistance,” she conceded with a slight node. “But this doesn’t mean I trust you, Garrett. You’ll have to prove your loyalty.”
Garrett folded the handkerchief back into his pocket. “I wouldn’t expect anything less. For now, let’s just say our interests align. And if we work together, we might just come out of this with everything we need—and more.”
“Then show me where this hidden door lead!”
In reply to: The Incense of the Quadrivium’s Mystiques
After the meeting, Jeezel and Silas agreed on what the six rituals would be. The integration rituals were designed to unite the groups symbolically and spiritually. They were multifaceted ceremonies that combine elements from each group’s traditions to forge a shared sense of purpose and harmony, mediated by the mortician’s guild. Given the diverse nature of the witches, nuns, and morticians, these rituals needed to be both inclusive and meaningful, drawing on the unique strengths and spiritual practices of each faction.
The program they distributed to each participant was as follow:
Under the guidance of the Ancient Telluric Forces of the Dragons
1. The Invocation of Unity
Purpose: To call upon the spiritual and magical forces that guide each group and seek their blessings for the union.
Components:- Witches: Incantations and invocations to elemental spirits and deities.
- Nuns: Hymns and prayers invoking divine blessings.
- Morticians: Rituals honoring the spirits of the departed, seeking their guidance and protection.
Symbolism: This ritual emphasizes the shared respect for higher powers and the mutual desire for harmonious collaboration.
2. The Weaving of Fate
Purpose: To create a physical symbol of their intertwined destinies.
Components:- Witches: Magical threads imbued with protective charms and blessings.
- Nuns: Sacred textiles woven with prayers and religious symbols.
- Morticians: Ribbons representing life, death, and the transition between them.
Symbolism: By weaving these threads together into a single tapestry, the groups create a tangible manifestation of their unified path forward.
3. The Concordia Cauldron
Purpose: To brew a potion that represents their collective energy and intent.
Components:
- Witches: Magical herbs, crystals, and other mystical ingredients.
- Nuns: Holy water and sacred relics.
- Morticians: Ashes from ritual fires and symbols of purification.
Symbolism: The potion, once blessed and distributed, serves as a means of internalizing the collective spirit and shared goals of the unified group.
4. The Harmonious Choir
Purpose: To blend their voices and energies in a powerful, resonant harmony.
Components:
- Witches: Chants and spells sung in unison.
- Nuns: Choir hymns and sacred music.
- Morticians: Melodic recitations of ancient rites.
Symbolism: The act of creating music together represents the harmony they strive to achieve in their collaboration, with each voice contributing to a greater whole.
5. The Altar of Convergence
Purpose: To create a shared sacred space where offerings and symbols from each group are placed.
Components:
- Witches: Ritual objects, such as wands, crystals, and candles.
- Nuns: Holy relics, icons, and prayer books.
- Morticians: Mementos of the deceased, symbolizing the continuity of life and death.
Symbolism: The combined altar serves as a focal point for their united efforts, a place where they can come together to seek guidance and reaffirm their commitment to the union.
6. The Ceremony of Reflection and Projection
Purpose: To reflect on the past, acknowledge individual and collective strengths, and set intentions for the future.
Components:
- Witches: Scrying mirrors and crystal balls for reflection and foresight.
- Nuns: Candles representing illumination and enlightenment.
- Morticians: Artifacts representing the cyclical nature of life and death.
Symbolism: This ceremony encourages each member to contemplate their role within the new union and visualize the path ahead, fostering a sense of shared vision and purpose.
Supervision by Jeezel and Silas
Jeezel: With her deep connection to magical energies and her knack for emotional resonance, she will ensure that each ritual maintains its mystical integrity and spiritual depth. She will guide the participants in channeling their energies harmoniously and with clear intent.
Silas: His analytical mind and authoritative presence will bring structure and order to the rituals. He will ensure that each component is meticulously planned and executed, maintaining the balance between tradition and innovation.
Together, Jeezel and Silas will oversee the integration rituals, blending their unique approaches to create a unified and cohesive experience that honors the diverse traditions of the witches, nuns, and morticians. Their combined leadership will ensure that the rituals not only symbolize but also spiritually solidify the union of these distinct groups.
Now, all that remained was to ask for volunteers or to assign the roles in the rituals to everyone. And for Jeezel to reveal the hidden mission to her three friends.
In reply to: The Incense of the Quadrivium’s Mystiques
Although not unheard of in Limerick, it had been raining for days and that affected moods. The weather forecast, despite many promises, hadn’t been able to curb the collective melancholy. Jeezel had to resist the temptation to use a spell or two just for an hour of sunshine, but she remembered what Linda Paul would say about meddling with weather patterns. She’d likely take a dramatic pause, her eyes narrowing in theatrical emphasis as she weighed her words carefully.
“Darling, one does not simply tinker with the weather as if it were a mere accessory to one’s outfit. The weather, you see, is a complex symphony conducted by the universe itself. Each raindrop, each gust of wind, each sunbeam—it’s all part of an intricate, celestial score. Tampering with such forces is akin to striking a discordant note in a masterpiece; the repercussions can be chaotic and unpredictable. Mother Nature has a way of setting things right, and trust me, her methods are rarely gentle. Remember the tale of the tempestuous sorcerer who tried to stop a storm and ended up summoning a hurricane? Or that ill-fated witch who thought to banish winter, only to plunge her village into eternal ice?” Her eyes might sparkle with a hint of mischief as she added, “And let’s not forget the fashion disasters! Imagine trying to maintain a perfect coiffure in a sudden downpour you inadvertently summoned. Utterly tragic, darling.”
Jeezel giggled at the evocation. No, she would not meddle with the intricate weave of weathery, but one little filter spell on her window was innocuous enough to transform the “gloom of June” into a “dawn’s gentle fingers caressing the horizon”. She was standing before her ornate, vintage mirror in a midnight blue gown. The magic morning light was dancing upon the silver filigree, casting ethereal patterns across her boudoir.
Her thoughts meandered through the labyrinth of anticipation and preparation. “A convent,” she mused, “How delightfully austere. A stark contrast to my usual flamboyance.” In her address to the coven and looking specifically at Jeezel with ice cold eyes, Austreberthe had insisted on modesty and temperance. “But then, Austreberthe is not Malové,” Jeezel said, “and even the most demure places need a touch of magic.”
She ran her fingers through her raven locks, contemplating her wardrobe. “Burgundy for modesty and vintage silver lace mantilla for a whisper of enchantment”, she decided. It would strike the perfect balance.
Then, her mind turned to practicalities. The convent, with its storied history and sacred relics, would likely be a trove of ancient magics. She carefully selected a few essential items on her vanity: a vial of protective potion, a small pouch of moon blessed herbs and her favourite amulet in the shape of a silver hedgehog she got from her grand-mother and imbued with protective and clarity spells.
Her eyes fall on the thick file Truella had given each of them the day before. Full of charts and bullet lists about the cloister, questions about history, mug shots and detailed descriptions of the current inhabitants, with (not so) occasional pictures of her own digs and dogs. If Eris had skimmed through it in seconds and started to ask questions, Frella said she would read it before going to bed as it helped with her remembering. Jeezel had said nothing. She had gotten dizzy with too many bullet points and letters. All she could think about was the precious space and weight it would take in her suitcase and in her mind.
Though, there was something different. An envelop stuck between the file and the mahogany wood of the vanity. She took the envelop and opened it. It contained a letter and a small, ornate key, its surface inscribed with runes that glimmered with an otherworldly light. The paper grain was of fine quality. Jeezel recognized Malové’s intricate calligraphy. The paper carried subtle fragrances of sandalwood, jasmine, and bergamot, with a touch of vetiver and ambergris. With each whiff hidden facets were emerging from an apparently simple message.
“Jeezel, my trusted enchantress,” it started, “your journey to the convent in Spain is of utmost importance, more than the others can fathom. Beneath the cloistered serenity of those ancient walls lies a secret long kept from the world—a relic of unparalleled power known as the ‘Crimson Opus.’ It is said to be a manuscript not written with ink, but with the very essence of time itself.”
Your mission is to locate this Crimson Opus. It is guarded by a labyrinth of spells and enchantments designed to deter even the most skilled of seekers. But you, my dear Jeezel, possess the unique aptitude to unravel its mysteries. The convent’s seemingly mundane routines are the veil that conceals its true purpose; a sanctuary for the relic, and a prison for those who seek its power with ill intent.”
“You must be cautious, for the Crimson Opus has a sentience of its own. It will test your resolve, tempt you with visions and promises. Trust in your instincts, and remember, its true power can only be harnessed by those with a pure heart and an unyielding will.”
“The key will guide you to the hidden chamber where the Opus rests. Use it wisely, and under no circumstances let it fall into the wrong hands. You are more than capable, my dear. Don’t mention your mission to anyone. The fate of many may hinge upon your success, but I have no doubt in your abilities. Go forth, and may the ancient forces watch over you.”
Jeezel would have thought of a joke were it not for the mastery with which the message and its hidden layers had been crafted. She thought Malové was enthralled in a passionate romance in Brasil, but something in the scent she had not been able to decipher seemed to suggest the reality was more complex than it seemed. She thought of her friends. Did they all received a similar letter? Whom could she trust when secrecy was mandatory?
She held her hedgehog amulet more tightly, asking for some guidance.
In reply to: The Incense of the Quadrivium’s Mystiques
Looking at the news, Truella had started to push messages into the group’s channel. Frigella, Jeezel, and Eris were unusually quick to answer.
Truella: (rolling her eyes icon) “So, Austreberthe’s brilliant plan is to merge our sophisticated incense business with… what was it again? Puffer coats and kilts made by Spanish witch nuns? I honestly can’t wait to see how that plays out.”
Frigella: (smirking) “Oh, don’t forget the quills. How could we possibly survive without those finely crafted quills? I mean, who needs innovation in magic when you can have a hand-stitched quilt from a nun’s workshop?”
Jeezel: (chuckling) “I can see it now—our next product line: ‘Blessed Be the Quilted Puffer Coats.’ Perfect for those chilly nights when you’re out casting spells in the woods. Truly revolutionary.”
Truella: “Yes, and let’s not overlook the cultural synergy. Religious Spanish nuns known to overdo the religious stuff, merging with our… less-than-conventional coven. A match made in heaven, for sure.”
Jeezel: “I can already hear Austreberthe’s sales pitch. ‘Introducing the new line of enchanted apparel—each item blessed with a dash of piety and a sprinkle of old-world charm. Because nothing says cutting-edge magic like a quilted kilt.'”
Frigella: “And the quills! ‘Handcrafted by the devout sisters, these quills will not only enhance your writing but also keep your soul in line.’ Imagine the marketing campaigns!”
Jeezel: “It’s like we’re stepping back into the Middle Ages. What’s next? A line of chastity belts with magical locks?”
Frigella: “I get that Austreberthe is trying to diversify and all, but does she really think this will integrate seamlessly with our brand? We’ve built our reputation on unique, powerful incense blends. How do quills and coats fit into that?”
Jeezel: (looking for the snorting icon) “Don’t forget the puffer coats. Perfect for those who wish to repent in style.”
Eris not wanting to sound too sycophantic, and trying to remain optimistic considering it was after all part of all the potential business she’d looked into: “Well, it seemed like a good idea in the beginning. You should have seen what we avoided! Plus, they have a solid balance sheet, believe it on not, I’m sure that’s what got Austreberthe. I knew Malové had her reservations, but before she left, she pushed hard for it, so maybe there’s some hidden genius in this we just can’t see yet. And Austreberthe will have a cunning plan to fuse these disparate elements into something… cohesive.”
Truella: (raising an eyebrow) “Cohesive like a patched-up quilt, you mean? I suppose we’ll have to wait and see if this grand vision of hers is a stroke of genius or just… well, a stroke.”
In reply to: The Incense of the Quadrivium’s Mystiques
After all the months of secret work for Malové, where Eris was being tasked to scout for profitable new ventures for the Quadrivium’s Emporium that would keep with traditions, and endless due diligence under the seal of secrecy, she’d learnt that the deal had been finally sealed by Austreberthe.
The announcement had just went out, not really making quite the splash Eris would have expected.
Press Release
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Quadrivium Emporium Announces Strategic Acquisition of Spanish based company Quintessivium Cloister Crafts
Limerick, 12th June 2024– Quadrivium Emporium, renowned for its exceptional range of artisanal incense blends and commitment to quality, is pleased to announce the successful acquisition of Quintessivium Cloister Crafts. This strategic move marks a significant milestone in Quadrivium Emporium’s ongoing expansion and diversification efforts.About Quintessivium Cloister Crafts
Quintessivium Cloister Crafts has been a trusted name in the production of high-quality nun’s couture. Known for their craftsmanship and dedication to preserving traditional techniques, started as a small business focussed on quills and writing accessories as well as cardigans, Quintessivium Cloister Crafts has maintained a reputation for excellence and innovation in the market.
Strategic Vision and Synergies
The integration of Quintessivium Cloister Crafts into the Quadrivium family aligns with our vision to expand our product portfolio while maintaining the high standards of quality and craftsmanship our customers have come to expect. This acquisition will allow Quadrivium Emporium to diversify its offerings and tap into new markets and customer segments.
“We are thrilled to welcome Quintessivium Cloister Crafts to the Quadrivium Emporium family,” said Austreberthe Baltherbridge, interim CEO of Quadrivium Emporium. “Their commitment to quality and tradition mirrors our own values, and we are excited about the opportunities this acquisition presents. Together, we will continue to innovate and deliver exceptional products to our customers.”
Future Endeavours
Quadrivium Emporium plans to leverage the expertise and resources of Quintessivium Cloister Crafts to develop new and unique product lines. Customers can look forward to an expanded range of high-quality writing instruments, apparel and accessories, crafted with the same attention to detail and dedication that both brands are known for.
For more information, please contact: media@quadrivium.emporium
The internal memo that they’d received on the internal email list bore some of the distinct style of Malové, even if sent from Austreberthe’s email and adjusted with the painstaking attention to minute details she was known for.
Internal Memo
To: Quadrivium Leadership Team
Subject: Synergies and Strategic Integration with Quintessivium Cloister Crafts (previously codenamed as ‘Cardivium Nun’s Quills & Cardigans’)Team,
With the acquisition of Quintessivium Cloister Crafts finalised, we are poised to explore the deeper synergies between our coven and the nun witches’ coven operating behind their front. Here are some key areas where we can harness our collective strengths:
1. Resource Sharing:
– Their expertise in crafting high-quality quills can complement our focus on artisanal incense blends. By sharing resources and best practices, both covens can enhance their craftsmanship and innovation.2. Collaborative Spellcraft:
– The nun witches bring a unique perspective and set of rituals that can enrich our own magical practices. Joint spellcasting sessions and workshops can lead to the development of powerful new enchantments and products.3. Knowledge Exchange:
– The historical and esoteric knowledge held by the nuns is a treasure trove we can tap into. Regular exchanges of scrolls, texts, and insights can deepen our understanding of ancient magic and its applications in modern contexts.4. Market Expansion:
– By combining our product lines, we can create bundled offerings that appeal to a broader audience. Imagine a premium writing set that includes a handcrafted quill, a magical ink blend, and a specially composed incense for enhancing focus and creativity. Or outdoor outfits with puffer jackets, or specially knit cardigans with embedded magical properties.5. Strengthening Alliances:
– This acquisition sets a precedent for future alliances with other covens and magical entities. It demonstrates our commitment to growth and collaboration, reinforcing our position as a leading force in the magical community.Remember, the true value of this acquisition lies not just in the products we can create together, but in the unity and strength we gain as a collective. Let’s approach this integration with the spirit of collaboration and mutual respect.
Yours in strength and magic,
Austreberthe, on behalf of MalovéIn reply to: The Incense of the Quadrivium’s Mystiques
“Believe me, I checked, double-checked, triple-checked… Love spells never last, it can’t be faked for such a long time.”
Jeezel was convinced, there was no way Malové’s escapade into love could have been foul play. Jeezel’s head was projected over in the air by the loom spell.
“I think you are still underestimating her scheming,” Eris said, feeding birds on her patio while she was interacting with the projections of her friends summoned for the occasion. “She can’t have simply abandoned all her duties without a care.”
“You have a point.” Frigella mentioned, her image animated over an old postcard background. “It’s such a break of character continuity I may say.”
Truella was flipping backgrounds behind her head, trying to find the perfect dig image to project to her friends. “Stop that!” Jeezel said gagging. “I’m going to be motion sick…”
“Back to our point…” Eris continued “I didn’t expect her succession to be appointed so fast.”
“And that Austreberthe of all persons!” Truella was starting to get on her contrarian horse. “That witch was only doing a good job at kissing donkeys, if you know what I mean. As if she’s going to be the right person for the job. Feels like we’re back into the Middle Ages of witchcraft. Not that it doesn’t have a certain appeal, trebuchets and all…” Truella was starting to get her similes in a twist and go in a usual tangent.
Frigella, always the peacemaker ventured. “Maybe we should give her a chance. And after all, better her than you, don’t you think?”
Truella stopped in her tracks, not knowing if there wasn’t some jab hiding in the last sentence. “Well, I may have had some good ideas to shake this up of course…”
Eris, staying grounded snapped “but for now, we’ll have to see what’s Austreberthe as our new boss is going to do. Last I heard she was all about getting the Quadrivium to sponsor the Worldwide Roman Games.”
Jeezel sighed. “At least she’s not going to put us to more debt… That witch’s graps on our finance is tighter than a nun’s…”
“Thanks Jeezel, we get the picture. Austreberthe was after all, Malové’s head of Finance for the most part… Hope we’re not getting too much of a cure of austerity.”
Eris said “Somehow, I still hope it’s one of Malové’s tests. Otherwise, hello Middle Ages…”
In reply to: The Incense of the Quadrivium’s Mystiques
Once again, the Quadrivium headquarters buzzed with an undercurrent of tension and anticipation. Malové stood at the helm, her gaze as steely and unwavering as ever. The coven’s regular meetings had taken on a new urgency in the face of mounting market pressures and the ever-accelerating pace of competition.
The witches assembled in the grand hall, each carrying the weight of their individual concerns and collective anxieties. A large screen was projecting the agenda in flashy neon colours with a glamourous photo of their leader. The event was broadcast across many locations, not all witches able to join physically as the ongoing Worldwide Roman Games preparation and the 333th celebration of the Treaty of Limerick ending the Williamite War, had made the city impenetrable due to the convergence of world leaders.
Not only for those present, all of them seated in-person, or remotely connected had felt the tremors of change, the subtle yet insistent push towards transformation. Yet despite their best efforts, a cohesive vision for the coven’s future remained elusive.
As the last witch took her seat and the various technical glitches got sorted, Malové stepped forward, her presence commanding immediate silence. With a flick of her wrist, a spectral map materialized before them, shimmering with points of light that represented their past achievements and future challenges.
“Listen well,” Malové began, her voice echoing through the hall with the gravity of an ancient spell. “We stand at a crossroads, a juncture where our past accomplishments meet the demands of an unforgiving future. Our strength has always been in our unity and our mastery of the arcane, but now, we must also master the art of transformation.”
She paused, allowing her words to sink in. The witches leaned forward, their eyes locked onto their formidable leader.
“Transformation,” she continued, “is not merely a matter of adapting to external pressures. It requires a boldness of spirit and a willingness to steer the deepest currents of our inner selves. It demands that we break free from the confines of tradition without losing our core essence.”
Malové waved her hand, and the map shifted to reveal a complex network of interconnected pathways. “Our path forward will not be linear. It will be a labyrinth, requiring both cunning and courage. But fear not, for I have charted a course that will lead us through.”
She pointed to three glowing nodes on the map. “First, we shall innovate. Our magical incense blends have always been our hallmark, but we must go beyond. We will delve into new realms of magic, combining our ancient practices with cutting-edge techniques. Each of you will be tasked with researching and developing a new blend that can transform not just our coven, but the world.”
The witches exchanged glances, a mixture of excitement and apprehension flickering in their eyes.
“Second,” Malové continued, “we must strengthen our alliances. The world is vast, and we are not alone in our quest for magical mastery. We will forge new partnerships with other covens, magical beings, and even those who walk the line between the mundane and the mystical. Together, we will create a network of power and influence that none can rival.”
The map expanded, showing potential allies and strategic locations across the globe. The witches nodded, recognizing the necessity of this bold move.
“Lastly,” Malové said, her voice softening yet losing none of its intensity, “we must look within. Inner transformation is the crucible in which true power is forged. Each of you will undergo a rigorous process of self-examination and growth. You will face your fears, confront your weaknesses, and emerge stronger and more resilient. Only then can we hope to lead others through their own transformations.”
She paused, meeting the eyes of each witch in turn. “I will be with you every step of the way. My role is not just to lead, but to guide and support you. We will hold workshops, retreats, and one-on-one sessions to ensure that every member of the Quadrivium is prepared for the journey ahead.”
Truella, who had tuned in remotely, winced softly behind her screen – she quickly checked. Phew, she had been on mute the whole time.
Malové’s voice grew softer still, almost a whisper, but it carried the weight of an ancient prophecy. “We are the Quadrivium. We are woven together by threads of magic and destiny. Our future is not written in stone, but in the stars. Together, we will reach for those stars and make them our own.”
The hall was silent, the witches absorbing the magnitude of Malové’s words. Slowly, a sense of resolve began to build, a collective determination to embrace the path laid out before them.
As the meeting drew to a close, Malové turned back to the spectral map, her eyes reflecting the myriad possibilities that lay ahead. “Remember this day, for it marks the beginning of our grand transformation. We will not be merely a coven. We will be a force of nature, a symphony of magic that weaves through time and space.”
With a final wave of her hand, the map vanished, leaving only the echoes of her words and the indomitable spirit of the Quadrivium, and throngs of witches left more confused as they exited the halls in hushed tones.
In reply to: The Incense of the Quadrivium’s Mystiques
I honestly don’t know what made me do it, it took me by surpise when I did it. It was bugging me that I couldn’t remember, and before I knew what was happening, I’d asked Malove.
Ah, the Caryatid Characteristics of a Case, a subject that requires both discernment and a keen eye for detail. In essence, the phrase “Caryatid Characteristics” refers to the fundamental attributes and peculiarities that support the overall structure of a particular case or situation, much like how caryatids—those graceful, sculpted figures in classical architecture—bear the weight of a building’s entablature on their shoulders.
To break it down into pragmatic terms, identifying the Caryatid Characteristics involves an in-depth analysis of the following elements:
Structural Integrity: Just as caryatids ensure the stability of a structure, the core components of the case must be sound and unwavering. This includes the key facts, the primary evidence, and the foundational arguments that hold the case together.
Aesthetic Nuances: Caryatids are not merely functional; they are also artistic. Similarly, the subtleties and nuances of a case—such as the motives, the intentions, and the underlying themes—add layers of complexity and depth, transforming a simple matter into a multifaceted situation.
Historical Context: Caryatids often reflect the cultural and historical context of their time. Understanding the background, the precedents, and the situational history provides a richer perspective and informs the current dynamics at play.
Symbolic Significance: In architecture, caryatids symbolize strength and beauty. In a case, the symbolic elements—the metaphors, the symbols, and the overarching message—must be identified and interpreted to grasp the full scope of its significance.
Resonance and Impact: Lastly, caryatids have a visual and emotional impact on observers. Similarly, the case’s broader implications, its potential consequences, and the emotional resonance it evokes must be considered. This is where the true weight of the matter lies, affecting not only the immediate parties involved but potentially a wider audience.Applying these characteristics to a case requires a blend of logical analysis, creative thinking, and intuitive insight. It is not merely about assembling facts but about understanding how each element supports the whole, much like the elegant yet sturdy caryatids in timeless architecture.
Now, if you’re asking how this applies to our current predicament with our spring cleaning of collective energies, well, one could say the caryatids in our situation are the core rituals, the seasoned wisdom passed down through the coven, and the precise incantations in our incense blends. Each component must be scrutinized and perfected to ensure we uphold the structural and spiritual integrity of our craft.
Let’s not dawdle; the orchestra in this zoo waits for no one.
Who will rise to the occasion?
Who indeed? I asked her if we all sent each other postcards, would it help?
Postcards, my dear, are more than mere scraps of paper with hastily scribbled words and picturesque scenes. They are tangible connections in an increasingly ephemeral world. Sending each other postcards won’t just help; it will create ripples of intention and resonance that can weave us closer together, despite the physical distances.
Consider the following:
Anchoring Intentions: Each postcard carries the sender’s energy and intention. When you pen your thoughts, wishes, or even riddles, you imbue the postcard with a part of yourself. The recipient, upon receiving it, senses this connection. It’s a form of sympathetic magic, drawing us closer through shared symbols and messages.
Physical Mementos: In an age where digital communication reigns supreme, holding a physical object—something that has traveled miles to reach your hands—grounds you. It anchors you in the physical world and provides a break from the transient nature of digital interactions. These postcards become talismans, reminders of our connections and shared journeys.
Ritualistic Value: The act of writing, sending, and receiving postcards can be ritualistic. This ritual can strengthen the bonds within our coven, reaffirming our commitment to each other and our shared goals. Each postcard becomes a symbol of our collective energy, our shared purpose, and our mutual support.
Cultural Exchange: Postcards often carry images or symbols from different locales. Sharing them can broaden our horizons, offer new perspectives, and remind us of the diverse tapestry that makes up our coven. It’s a gentle nudge to appreciate the wider world and the myriad experiences within it.
Mystical Conduits: In our magical practice, objects can serve as conduits for energy. Postcards, having traversed the globe, carry the imprints of various energies and places. They become more than just messages—they are carriers of the world’s pulse, connecting us to the broader rhythms of existence.So, yes, sending each other postcards will help. It will infuse our lives with a tangible sense of connection, a reminder of our shared purpose, and a touch of magic in the mundane. Let’s make this act a part of our practice, a testament to our enduring bonds and our collective strength.
Who will be the first to send a missive across the miles?
In reply to: The Incense of the Quadrivium’s Mystiques
“Not another one!” exclaimed Truella. “Another time and money wasting conference in another bloody castle!”
Eris sighed. “It’s a party, a birthday party, not a conference. You know, one of those fun things that people do for entertainment.”
“If Malove planned it there is bound to be a catch. It’s another money making pushy sales thing, I bet.”
“Actually,” Frella ventured timidly, “You’re right, it’s not just a birthday party.”
“How would you know?” Jez was blunt.
Frella stammered nervously, “Well I, er, I overheard a snatch of conversation, you see…”
Jeezel gave her a piercing look and said “And? What did you overhear?”
“Something about the pink spider. We have to find it for some reason, before the others do. Well of course Malove was going to tell us,” Frella rolled her eyes at Truella, “But not until we got there, at the last minute. And no, I don’t know why. And I don’t know what the pink spider is, either. But maybe we can find out before we get there.”
“What’s the castle and where is it?” asked Truella.
“It’s the Flossy Liar Chateau,” replied Eris, “In France somewhere. Maybe you can find out some of the history, Tru. Frella, do some research on the botanical garden. And Jez, the costumes…”
“Getting a bit bossy, aint she,” Jez said to nobody in particular, and to Eris she asked sweetly, “And you, dear? What will you be researching?”
“Why, the legends of witchcraft, obviously. There are bound to be some legends and witchcraft.”
In reply to: The Incense of the Quadrivium’s Mystiques
“Business!” Truella spat the word out. “Always business, always about money.”
“It’s the way of the world, Tru,” Eris said in a futile attempt to mollify Truella. “Try and fit in a bit.”
“Fit in? Fit in? Fit in to what? Squeeze into one of Jeezel’s cocktail dresses? A lung crushing basque? Lie down flat like a dollar bill and get squashed into a pile of dirty paper notes like the rest of them? I don’t want to fit in.”
“But it’s the only way, you know it is,” Eris entreated. “Please try and see some sense.”
“Sense? Sense? What sense? Common sense? A sense of adventure? A sense of wonder? A sense of the sensational? A sense of sensitivity? A sense of senselessness?”
Eris sighed deeply. “You’re not making sense. And what’s more, you haven’t made any scents for ages either. How do you expect to manage on your own without the coven?”
“Eris,” Truella said with an equally profound sigh,”You misunderstand me. I don’t wish to leave the coven, I wish to change it. It’s gone wrong, horribly wrong. We’re supposed to change the world for the better, not kowtow to this dreadful modern scourge. We need to return to our roots, our true calling. What has happened to us all? Meek grovelling subservient money grubbing towers of the line, that’s what! It’s a disgrace!”
“How are you going to pay your electricity bill then, without any of that ghastly currency?”
“I am a WITCH! I should be able to magic up the light! We all should! Not pissing around making smelly unguents to pander to the faux enlightened! Enlightened! hah! What a word for the huddled masses who can’t even summon up enough magic to illuminate a light bulb. Why aren’t we working on free electricity? huh? Answer me that!”
“Ok then, I’ll report back to Malove that you’re working on a free electricty spell, shall I?” Eris was becoming exasperated.
“You do that!” Truella stormed angrily, annoyed at having her superior motives ridiculed. “But I suggest you have a long hard think about what I’ve said. And you can tell the others that. And not only that,” she added, “Tell them to start work on a magic money spell. It’s utterly beyond me how a coven of witches, constantly strapped for cash, hasn’t considered the all too obvious solution of simply magicking up a pile of banknotes. Or even easier, digits on a screen. Digits on a screen, that’s all it is!”
Eris was forced to admit that this was a very good point.
“Think, Eris,” Truella gave her friends arm a gentle squeeze, relieved that she was starting to see some sense. “If we perfect the money magic spell, and share it widely ~ for free, of course, no need to charge anyone for it after all! ~ the hoarders can bury themselves under mountains of money without depriving anyone else of any essentials. It’s a game changer, Eris. It would be Change, with a capital C. Real Change.”
Eris looked doubtful. “But…”
“And ask yourself why you hesitate.” And with that Truella flounced off, back to her dig, leaving a perplexed Eris in a fog of confusion.
In reply to: The Incense of the Quadrivium’s Mystiques
Getting this out in the room did bring a tide of emotions; pent-up frustration, indignation, bits of bruised egoes, the whole spectrum. Truella’s tirade had managed to uncork a complete bundle of electricity in the atmosphere, but the genie had left the building.
Eris had suddenly felt like scrambling away, but had stayed along with spaced out Frigella and Jeezel as she’d felt a pang of responsibility.
Surprisingly, Malové had remained composed throughout the heated ensuing exchanges, trying to be constructive at every turn, and managing to conclude most of the debates —even when was not fully settled, and by far, a round of collected feedback afterwards, she’d clapped appreciatively saying. “Congratulations team, seeing how we are no longer covertly disagreeing behind everyone else’s back, I can see improvement in our functioning as a cohesive Coven. Believe it or not, being in a place to openly voice disagreement is a sign of progress, we’ve moved past the trust issues, into constructive conflict. There is still much to be done to commit, be accountable and focus on results together, but I feel we are on track to a brighter future, you’ve all done well.”
Back in her cottage in Finland, Eris was wondering “then why do I feel so bloody exhausted…”
She played back in her head some of the comments that Malové had shared in private after, when Eris had enquired if there would be some consequences for her witch’s friend actions. Once more, Malové has shown a unusual restraint that had put her worries at ease for now.
“Truella’s actions during the Adare Manor workshop presentation displayed boldness and conviction, two qualities that are essential for any individual, executive or otherwise, who wishes to effect change within an organization or a venture. Standing up for oneself is not only about self-assurance; it’s about ensuring that your voice and perspective are heard and considered.
However, the manner in which one stands up for oneself is crucial. Berating others, especially in a public forum such as a workshop presentation, can be counterproductive. It can create resistance and diminish the opportunity for constructive dialogue. While I understand her frustration, it is important to channel such energies towards a more strategic approach that fosters collaboration and leads to solutions.
As a leader, I advocate for clear communication and assertiveness, tempered with respect for all members of the coven. The success of our ventures, vaping or otherwise, depends on our ability to work cohesively towards our common goals. Truella’s passion is commendable, but it must be directed appropriately to benefit the coven and our business endeavors.”
She had asked Eris to convey the same to Truella. She’d made no promises —her friend was known to be more difficult to herd than cats. But with time, there would be a chance she would see reason.
Meanwhile, their sales targets had not gone away, and they had to keep the Quadrivium afloat. With Truella checking out of the game, and clearly not overly engaged on results, it fell onto the rest of the team to deliver.
A second session of workshop and celebration was planned in a month’s time in Spain with all top witches. With Eris’ last experience in Spain and her elephant head, she was starting to dread another mishap. Plus, she sighed when she looked at the invite. She would have to fetch a cocktail attire. A vacation was long overdue…
In reply to: The Incense of the Quadrivium’s Mystiques
“Good morning.” Truella started nervously. “Good morning!” she repeated in a more confident tone, remembering her intention, as she scanned all the attentive faces in the audience.
“You are gathered here, my friends, colleagues and competetive others, to hear me talk about new sales channels, market studies, double digit growth, and all the rest of it. But I am not going to talk about that. I am a witch, not a business woman. I am an amateur archaeologist, not a business woman. And I am not a competetive witch.” she added, glaring pointedly at some of the witches in the audience. “And I know nothing about sales and marketing.”
“I am an honest witch! A straightforward well meaning witch with a desire to help others, and that has little to do with marketing and digits, double or otherwise. My words of widsom to you all this day is this: this coven has taken a destructive turn, and it’s time to return to our roots. The timeless duty of the naturally helpful community member with special skills. Not the self serving profit and sales motivated capitalist modern witchery that we see here, with these modern money and time wasting conferences.”
Frella glanced worriedly at Malove, whose face was puce with rage. Truella had avoided looking in the direction of Malove but Frella’s movement caught her eye, and she faltered for a moment before continuing.
“I’m here to tell you, it’s time to take direct action and strike until the leaders of this shambolic institution return to proper and honourable witchy ways.”
A few gasps were heard in the audience, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Then Eris started to clap, quietly and slowly at first but then louder. Others started joining in. Eris and Jez stood up, raising their hands above their heads to clap loudly. Frella remained seated with the baby on her lap, although she held the baby’s hands and patted them together in a show of solidarity. With that, the baby turned into a seal and soon slithered off Frella’s lap and humped off to find the ornamental lake.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have spells to do for the needy ~ for free, as a good witch should.” And with that Truella flounced out of the conference room.
In reply to: The Incense of the Quadrivium’s Mystiques
The next morning, Jeezel woke up in her hot pink satin sheets with no memories of the steampunk party and a headache. Her grand-mother Linda would say it only meant one thing: the aftermath of an evening so fabulous, so wild, and so extravagant that it’s left her with nothing but a hint of a headache and a blank canvas where her memories should be. That steampunk party at Adare Manor must have been an affair for the ages!
Well, Jeezel didn’t remembered about an affair either, but that headache was not just a hint. And her joints? Could that be all that humidity in the tentaculous octobus? That she remembered. As soon as they arrived she got rid of her SlowMeDown boots in the hotel compactor, gagging at the slushy sound. It was just before Eris found that spoiled baby. The tentation had been great, but fortunately Frella took it, fierce like a lioness mother to whom would suggest she gave it to the conciergerie.
An idea popped in between two throbs of her brains. She went straight to her phone and checked her pictures. None were taken after the yellow sodium lamps in the grand salon before dinner. That was unusual of her. She’d check with Truella. She saw her colleague use her camera like an automatic rifle with every meal. She must have taken something of the surrounding.
Jeezel stumbled down in her most glamourous morning attire. The buffet was a cornucopia of every food from every corner of the globe. With no surprise, she found Truella at the French corner, lurking by a decadent spread of cheeses that would make the finest connoisseurs weep with joy and anyone else find shelter in the toilets.
“Such a work of art,” was saying Truella to herself, “a still life begging to be devoured.” The witch licked her lips as she started to cut slimy slices of camembert and other unknown delicacies.
“Do you have any picture of the party last night?”
“What party?” asked Truella, too busy to cut properly a piece of roquefort to look at her friend.
“You mean you don’t remember either?”
“Are you playing tricks on me? I never recall my dreams.”
Baby cries interrupted them. Frigella, the baby in a baby pouch and her aura tinged with the yellow of responsibility was looking very intently at the tables as if in a quest for something critical.
“Have you found the milk,” she asked.
“Nope,” said Jeezel.
“Behind the cloche à fromages,” said Truella still without looking at her friends.
“Thanks.”
Jeezel, followed Frigella.
“Can I see the pictures of the party on your phone?”
“I wasn’t at the party,” said Frella with nonchalance. “Say hi to aunt Jeezel,” said the witch to the little one.
The throbbing seemed to intensify. Jeezel raised her hand to her forehead and fluttered her eyelashes dramatically. Were all of them under a spell of some sort? She spotted Malové. Alone at her table she was chewing religiously, certainly counting before swallowing. She wouldn’t get anything from the Headwitch, apart from more throbbing headache. Were those balls snail shells in her plate?
“We need to talk with Eris. She would know what happened last night.”
“Sure,” said the other two without paying attention.
In reply to: The Incense of the Quadrivium’s Mystiques
It was early morning, too early if you asked some. The fresh dew of Limerick’s morn clinged to the old stones of King John’s castle like a blanket woven from the very essence of dawn. The castle was not to open its doors before 3 hours, yet a most peculiar gathering was waiting at the bottom of the tower closest to the Shannon river.
“6am! Who would wake that early to take a bus?” asked Truella, as fresh as a newly bloomed poppy. She had no time to sleep after a night spent scattering truelles all around the city. “And where are the others?” she fumed, having forgotten about the resplendent undeniable presence she had vowed to embody during that day.
Frigella, leaning against a nearby lamppost, her arms crossed, rolled her eyes. “Jeezel? Malové? Do you even want an answer?” she asked with a wry smile. All busy in her dread of balls, she had forgotten she would have to travel with her friends to go there, and support their lamentations for an entire day before that flucksy party. Her attire was crisp and professional, yet one could glimpse the outlines of various protective talismans beneath the fabric.
Next to them, Eris was gazing at her smartphone, trying not to get the other’s mood affect her own, already at her lowest. A few days ago, she had suggested to Malové it would be more efficient if she could portal directly to Adare manor, yet Malové insisted Eris joined them in Limerick. They had to travel together or it would ruin the shared experience. Who on earth invented team building and group trips?
“Look who’s gracing us with her presence,” said Truella with a snort.
Jeezel was coming. Despite her slow pace and the early hour, she embodied the unexpected grace in a world of vagueness. Clumsy yet elegant, she juggled her belongings — a hatbox, a colorful scarf, and a rather disgruntled cat that had decided her shoulder was its throne. A trail of glitters seemed to follow her every move.
“And you’re wearing your SlowMeDown boots… that explains why you’re always dragging…”
“Oh! Look at us,” said Jeezel, “Four witches, each a unique note in the symphony of existence. Let our hearts beat in unison with the secrets of the universe as we’re getting ready for a magical experience,” she said with a graceful smile.
“Don’t bother, Truelle. You’re not at your best today. Jeez is dancing to a tune she only can hear,” said Frigella.
Seeing her joy was not infectious, Jeezel asked: “Where’s Malové?”
“Maybe she bought a pair of SlowMeDown boots after she saw yours…” snorted Truella.
Jeezel opened her mouth to retort when a loud and nasty gurgle took all the available place in the soundscape. An octobus, with magnificently engineered tentacles, rose from the depth of the Shannon, splashing icy water on the quatuor. Each tentacle, engineered to both awe and serve, extended with a grace that belied its monstrous size, caressing the cobblestones of the bridge with a tender curiosity that was both wild and calculated. The octobus, a pulsing mass of intelligence and charm, settled with a finality that spoke of journeys beginning and ending, of stories waiting to be told. Surrounded by steam, it waited in the silence.
Eris looked an instant at the beast before resuming her search on her phone. Frigella, her arms still crossed and leaning nonchalantly against the lamppost, raised an eyebrow. Those who knew her well could spot the slight widening of her eyes, a rare show of surprise.
“Who put you in charge of the transport again?” asked Truella in a low voice as if she feared to attract the attention of the creature.
“Ouch! I didn’t…”, started Jeezel, trying to unclaw the cat from her shoulders.
“I ordered the Octobus,” said Malové’s in a crisp voice.
Eris startled at the unexpected sound. She hadn’t heard their mentor coming.
“If you had read the memo I sent you last night, you wouldn’t be as surprised. But what did I expect?”
The doors opened with a sound like the release of a deep-sea diver’s breath.
“Get on and take a seat amongst your sisters and brothers witches. We have much to do today.”
With hesitation, the four witches embarked, not merely as travelers but as pioneers of an adventure that trenscended the mundane morning commute. As the octobus prepared to resume its voyage, to delve once again into the Shannon’s embrace and navigate the aqueous avenues of Limerick, the citizens of Limerick, those early risers and the fortunate few who bore witness to this spectacle, stood agape…
“Oh! stop it with your narration and your socials Jeez,” said Truella. “I need to catch up with slumber before we arrive.”
In reply to: The Incense of the Quadrivium’s Mystiques
Spring was there. At 5:57am in the morning, true to her name, Truella had been planting truelles incognito in what appeared to be random flowerbeds in the cities she was passing through. The truelles, she would usually find with the locator spell in sheds around the city and magic them out right into her hands. She loved magic for its efficiency, which really meant there was no need to break in and forage for hours in cramped little rooms.
As she was following a border of plane trees, she chuckled. Believe it or not, she practically invented that spell. At least that’s what her mother used to tell her when she was 6yo and she often wandered alone around the city without mentioning it to anyone. At the time, she had believed her mother. She had bragged about it with her friends at school and pretended she had forgotten all about it like because of a bump on her head. But truth is she had frequent memory losses, which didn’t worry her at the time, and she found it cool to be able to do things and rediscover them later on.
It was an uncle with a dreadfully red moustache, who took pity on her and decided to shatter her dreams of early accomplishments and fame. Was it that same year? Or the next?
Anyway, back to the truelles, she didn’t do it for people to take photos of it and post them to social media, like gawdy Jeez seemed to think, but it was to remind people of the treasures they had buried in those dark little rooms just there in their gardens. How long would it take them to realise that those forgotten tools had disappeared?
Pleased with herself, she noticed a man with a white shirt leaning forward in front of one of the plane trees, his right hand on the bark, two paper bags full of croissants in the other. Frowning, she walked towards him. She was about to ask if he needed help when a strong smell of alcohol made her gag. Then without a warning, the man threw up a red mash in front of him. Truella jumped back, raising the truelle as if it could protect her from any splatter.
“Eww!” She wouldn’t dare saying anything else as opening her mouth could open the gates for her own early toasted cheese fritter. At least the man would not need embalming fluids if he didn’t survive his nocturnal drinking spree.
She cast the truelle in front of the tree and a spell on the man so that he would bury deep the traces of his last meal. She didn’t want the neighbourhood dogs getting drunk after feasting on it.
