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In reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler
Chapter Title: A Whiff of Inspiration – a work in progress by Elizabeth Tattler
The morning light slanted through the towering windows of the grand old house, casting a warm glow upon the chaos within. Elizabeth Tattler, famed author and mistress of the manor, found herself pacing the length of the room with the grace of a caged lioness. Her mind was a churning whirlpool of creative fury, but alas, it was not the only thing trapped within.
“Finnley!” she bellowed, her voice echoing off the walls with a resonance that only years of authoritative writing could achieve. “Finnley, where are you hiding?”
Finnley, emerging from behind the towering stacks of Liz’s half-finished manuscripts, wielded her trusty broom as if it were a scepter. “I’m here, I’m here,” she grumbled, her tone as prickly as ever. “What is it now, Liz? Another manuscript disaster? A plot twist gone awry?”
“Trapped abdominal wind, my dear Finnley,” Liz declared with dramatic flair, clutching her midsection as if to emphasize the gravity of her plight. “Since two in the morning! A veritable tempest beneath my ribs! I fear this may become the inspiration—or rather, aspiration—for my next novel.”
Finnley rolled her eyes, a gesture she had perfected over years of service. “Oh, for Flove’s sake, Liz. Perhaps you should bottle it and sell it as ‘Creative Muse’ for struggling writers. Now, what do you need from me?”
“Oh, I’ve decided to vent my frustrations in a blog post. A good old-fashioned rant, something to stir the pot and perhaps ruffle a few feathers!” Liz’s eyes gleamed mischievously. “I’m certain it shall incense 95% of my friends, but what better way to clear the mind and—hopefully—the bowels?”
At that moment, Godfrey, Liz’s ever-distracted editor, shuffled in with a vacant look in his eyes. “Did someone mention something about… inspiration?” he asked, blinking as if waking from a long slumber.
“Yes, Godfrey, inspiration!” Liz exclaimed, waving her arms dramatically. “Though in my case, it’s more like… ‘inflation’! I’ve become a gastronaut! ” She chuckled at her own pun, eliciting a groan from Finnley.
Godfrey, oblivious to the undercurrents of the conversation, nodded earnestly. “Ah, splendid! Speaking of which, have you written that opening scene yet, Liz? The publishers are rather eager, you know.”
Liz threw her hands up in mock exasperation. “Dear Godfrey, with my innards in such turmoil, how could I possibly focus on an opening scene?” She paused, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Unless, of course, I were to channel this very predicament into my story. Perhaps a character with a similar plight, trapped on a space station with only their imagination—and intestinal distress—for company.”
Finnley snorted, her stern facade cracking ever so slightly. “A tale of cosmic flatulence, is it? Sounds like a bestseller to me.”
And with that, Liz knew she had found her muse—an unorthodox one, to be sure, but a muse nonetheless. As the words began to flow, she could only hope that relief, both literary and otherwise, was soon to follow.
(story repeats at the beginning)
In reply to: Liz Tattler – A Lifetime of Stories, in videos
In reply to: The Incense of the Quadrivium’s Mystiques
All their owls screeched at the same time across the vast distances separating them.
Malové’s voice on them. “I just got off the phone with the Headwitch of Salem. Witch hunting season is back on, can you believe it? Didn’t we have countermeasures in place? Who was in charge of the Lump thwarting warting spell? Come at once!”
In Limerick, Finnley snickered, only mildly annoyed at the sound of all the parked owls in the mostly empty Quadrivium building. Oh, I see. It’s all gone pear-shaped, has it? Witch hunting season indeed! You’d think by now they’d have sorted their spells and counter-spells like a proper orderly lot. Honestly, if it were up to me, I’d have those countermeasures filed, organized, and triple-checked like my cleaning supplies. As for whoever’s in charge of the “Lump thwarting warting spell”—sounds like someone needs a good talking-to. Probably spent too much time nattering about and not enough focusing on their spellwork. Typical, isn’t it?
Elsewhere in the Northern forest, Eris shrugged at the sound hooting echoing. “When I told them something was wrong with Malové, it was her charge all along. Now, let’s wait and see to find someone brave enough to say it to her face.”
Somewhere and somewhen else, Truella and Frella and Jeezel were probably thinking the same, unless they got lost themselves in the Well of Crom, a surefire way to stay clear of Malové’s screeching owls.
In reply to: The Incense of the Quadrivium’s Mystiques
When Eris arrived at the meeting room, she overheard Malové requesting yet another of those delicious licorice spider. Jeezel sprang to her feet, flashing what looked like a welcoming gesture toward Eris, in fact asking to join her at the treats table.
“She arrived so tense,” Jeezel said, seizing the bowl of licorice spiders. “I was worried she’d pick up that something was off, but the incense you prepared, combined with my sigils, worked like a charm.” She winked. “Now she’s as mellow as a sweet old grandma. And I must say she’s actually enjoying the party.”
“I’m wondering if we didn’t went too far on the relaxing part,” Frella remarked as she joined her sisters at the treats table. “Malové just asked when we’re starting the karaoke.
“Now, that is spooky,” Eris replied, smirking, “but I suppose it’s in keeping with today’s theme. I think the spell she’s under is reacting to our own enchantments. By the way, where is Truella?”
Frella, sighed, slightly uneasy. “She mentioned a leak in the historic artifacts warehouse—or maybe a flood? Hard to tell with all the gurgling sounds in the background. Then the line cut off, and I haven’t been able to reach her since.”
“I’m afraid we’ll have to start without her,” said Eris, a hint of concern in her voice. “Echo,” she said to her familiar who just appeared in a rainbow swirl at the mention of its name, “do whatever it takes to reach her, see if she needs our help. She still has with her an essential element for our spell.”
Echo nodded before vanishing just as swiftly as it had arrived, leaving a trail of iridescent light in its wake.
“It’s so beautiful,” said Malové, suddenly appearing behind them and startling the three witches. “I want one too. You’re naughty to leave me alone at the big table, as if I were being punished.” She pouted playfully, her eyes darting toward the array of treats and decorations that had caught her attention.
Jeezel exchanged a quick, amused glance with Eris, who quickly composed herself. It was going to be one of those long meetings.
In reply to: The Incense of the Quadrivium’s Mystiques
When Eris gave Jeezel carte blanche to decorate the meeting room, Frella and Truella looked at her as if she’d handed fireworks to a dragon. They protested immediately, arguing that giving Jeezel that much freedom was like inviting a storm draped in sequins and velvet. After all, Jeezel was a queen diva—a master of flair and excess, ready to transform any ordinary space into a grand stage for her dramatic vision. In their eyes, it would defeat the whole purpose! But Eris raised a firm hand, silencing her sister’s objections.
“Let’s be honest, Malové is no ordinary witch,” she began, addressing Truella, Frella, and even Jeezel, who was still stung by her sisters’ criticism of her decorating skills. “We don’t know how many centuries that witch has been roaming the world, gathering knowledge and sharpening her mind. But what we do know is that she’d detect any concealing spell in a heartbeat.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Truella agreed. “I think that’s the smell…”
“You mean based on your last potion experiment?” snorted Frella.
“Girls, focus,” Eris said. “This meeting is long overdue, and we need to conceal the truth-revealing spell’s elements. Jeezel’s flair may be our best distraction. Malové has always dismissed her grandiosity as harmless extravagance, so for once, let’s use that to our advantage.”
While Eris spoke, Jeezel’s brow furrowed as she engaged in an animated dialogue with her inner diva, picturing every details. Frella rolled her eyes subtly, glancing off-camera as though for dramatic effect.
“Isn’t that a bit much for a meeting?” Truella groaned. “You already assigned us topics to prepare. Now we’re adding decorations?”
“You won’t have to lift a finger,” Jeezel declared. “I’ve got it all under control—and I already have everything we need. Here’s my vision: Halloween is coming, so the decor should be both elegant and enchanting. I’ll start by draping the room in velvet curtains in deep purples and midnight blacks—straight from my own bedroom.”
Truella’s jaw dropped, while Jeezel’s grin only widened.
“Oh! I love those,” Frella murmured approvingly.
“Next, delicate cobweb accents with a touch of silver thread to catch the light,” Jeezel continued. “Truella, we’ll need your excavation lamps with a few colored gels. They’ll cast a warm, inviting glow—a perfect mix of relaxation and intrigue, with shadows in just the right places. And for the season, a few glowing pumpkins tucked around the room will complete the scene.”
Jeezel’s inner diva briefly entertained the idea of mystical fog, but she discarded it—after all, this was a meeting, not a sabbat. Instead, she proposed a more subtle touch: “To conceal the spell’s elements, I’ll bring in a few charming critters. Faux ravens perched on shelves, bats hanging from the ceiling…a whimsical, creepy-cute vibe. We’ll adorn them with runes and sigils in an insconpicuous way and Frella can cast a gentle animation spell to make them shift ever so slightly. The movement will be just enough to escape Malové’s notice as she stays focused on the meeting. That way she’ll be oblivious to the spell being woven around her.”
“Are you starting to see where this is going?” Eris asked, looking at her sisters.
Frella nodded, and before Truella could chime in with any objections, Jeezel added, “And no Halloween gathering would be complete without wickedly delightful treats! Picture a grand table with themed snacks and drinks on polished silver trays and cauldrons. Caramel apples, spiced cider, chocolates shaped like magic potions—tempting enough to charm even a disciplined witch.”
“Now you’re talking my language,” Truella admitted, finally warming up to the idea.
“Perfect, then it’s settled,” Eris said, pleased. “You all have your tasks. They’ll help us reveal her hidden agenda and how the spell is influencing her. Truella, you’l handle Historical Artifacts and Lore. Frella, with your talent for connections, you’ll cover Coven Alliances and Mutual Interests. Jeezel, you’re in charge of Telluric and Cosmic Energies—it shouldn’t be hard with your endless videos on the subject. I’ll handle the rest: Magical Incense Innovations, Leadership Philosophy, and Coven Dynamics.”
In reply to: The Incense of the Quadrivium’s Mystiques
“I’m glad Hallowe’en is soon coming…” Eris sighed to her colleague. “Honestly, when did all the witchery stuff got outnumbered by Project Managers Officers?”
“Don’t ask me!” replied Truella in the dirt-smeared reflection of her obsidian mirror. She was still obviously distracted from her Incense-making numbers, not that she ever really cared about it —and even less since Malové got replaced for a while.
“Found anything worth scrying in your old postcards?” Jeezel affably trying to practice genuine interest in Truella’s games. Her own image was all pixellated due to the abundance of glitter on the makeup stand she was using for the conference call.
“Shht…” shushed Frella appearing in a faint halo light through her pristinely shiny scrying mirror, “Don’t encourage her, silly. There’s going to be no end of it. And Eris has a point, I may say.”
“Does she, now? And when did you start to take sides?” Truella felt like Pinocchio being told the Land of Toys wasn’t all that it was supposed to be.
“Listen,” Eris said “I’m sure you’ve realised by now, we have PM Officers for about any ridiculous thing in the Quadrivium nowadays. None of them having any magic to show for. They’re going to suffocate us in paperwork if you ask me. I suspect the Malové that came back was put under some sleeper sort of a spell; the Malové we knew would never have tolerated such nonsense.”
Eris marked a pause, looking sideways at Truella’s reflection on her Witchype screen. “And I think she’s had a fair deal of nonsense to contend with… but at least, even in a dragon fire mishap, there was magical prowess that could be harnessed.”
“I do like to get my hands dirty you know, and unravel layers of earth without the help of any spell” snickered Truella.
“That is not the matter and you know it…” Eris sighed.
“You meant to say, it’s time for a good old fashioned witchy coven spell to unravel the truth and break one maybe?” Frella ventured mockingly coyly.
“I’m in!” Jeeze jumped in suddenly “Been so bored for so long with all these timesheeting, spreadsheeting, and reportshitting if you don’t mind my French.”
“Actually I have an idea for a spell… and it may be of interest to you Truella too.” Eris continued.
Truella raised an eyebrow. She was not one to take things at face value. “Try me”
“All my ancestry research has pointed me to something we could work with. You know that bits of hair and nail are basically just middle-agey way of gathering DNA; and that DNA can act as a conduit through time and space, the same way it connects people.”
“Ooooh…” cooed Trooella.
“Exactly.” All nodded in a silent conspiring understanding.
In reply to: The Incense of the Quadrivium’s Mystiques
The fair was in full swing, with vibrant tents and colourful stalls bursting with activity. The smell of freshly popped corn mingled with the fragrance of exotic spices and the occasional whiff of magical incense. Frella turned her attention back to setting up her own booth. Her thoughts were a swirl of anxiety and curiosity. Malové’s sudden appearance at the fair could not be a mere coincidence, especially given the recent disruptions in the coven.
Unbeknownst to Frella, Cedric Spellbind was nearby. His eyes, though hidden behind a pair of dark glasses, were fixated on Frella. He was torn between his duty to MAMA and his growing affection for her. He juggled his phone, checking missed calls and messages, while trying to keep a discreet distance. But he was drawn to her like moth to flame.
As Frella was adjusting her booth, she felt a sudden chill and turned to find herself face-to-face with Cedric. He quickly removed his glasses and their eyes met; Cedric’s heart skipped a beat.
Frella’s gaze was guarded. “Can I help you with something?” she asked, her tone icily polite.
Cedric, flustered, stammered, “I—uh—I’m just here to, um, look around. Your booth looks, uh, fascinating.”
Frella raised an eyebrow. “I see. Well, enjoy the fair.” She turned back to her preparations, but not before noticing a fleeting look of hurt in Cedric’s eyes.
Cedric moved away, wrestling with his conflicting emotions. He checked to make sure his tracker was working, which tracked not just Frella’s movements but those of her companions. He was determined to protect her from any potential threat, even if it meant risking his own standing with MAMA.
As the day progressed, the fair continued to buzz with magical energy and intrigue. Frella worked her booth, engaging with curious tourists, all suitably fascinated with the protective qualities of hinges. Suddenly, Frella’s attention was drawn away from her display by a burst of laughter and squeals coming from nearby. Curiosity piqued, she made her way toward the source of the commotion.
As she approached, she saw a crowd had gathered around a small, ornate tent. The tent’s entrance was framed by shimmering curtains, and an enchanting aroma of lavender and spices wafted through the air. Through the gaps in the curtains, Frella could see an array of magical trinkets and curiosities.Just as she was about to step closer, a peculiar sight caught her eye. Emerging from the tent was a girl wearing a rather large cloak and closely followed by a black cat. The girl looked bewildered, her wide eyes taking in the bustling fairground.
Frella, intrigued and somewhat amused, approached the girl. “Hello there! I couldn’t help but notice you seem a bit lost. Are you okay?”
The girl’s expression was a mix of confusion and wonder. “Oh, hello! I’m Arona, and this is Mandrake,” she said, bending down and patting the black cat, who gave a nonchalant twitch of his tail. “We were just trying to find the library in my time, and now we’re here. This isn’t a library by any chance?”
Frella raised her eyebrows. “A library? No, this is a fair—a magical fair, to be precise.”
Arona’s eyes widened further as she looked around again. “A fair? Well, it does explain the odd contraptions and the peculiar people. Anyway, that will teach me to use one of Sanso’s old time-travelling devices.”
Truella wandered over to join the conversation, her curiosity evident. “Time-travelling device? That sounds fascinating. How did you end up here?”
Arona looked sheepish. “I was trying to retrieve a rare book from a past century, and it seems I got my coordinates mixed up. Instead of the library, I ended up at this… um … delightful fair.”
Frella chuckled. “Well, don’t worry, we can help you get back on track. Maybe we can find someone who can help with your time-travelling predicament.”
Arona smiled, relieved. “Thank you! I really didn’t mean to intrude. And Mandrake here is quite good at keeping me company, but he’s not much help with directions.”
Mandrake rolled his eyes and turned away, his disinterest in the conversation evident.
As Frella and Truella led Arona to a quieter corner of the fair, Cedric Spellbind observed the scene with growing interest. His eyes were glued to Frella, but the appearance of the time-travelling girl and her cat added a new layer of intrigue. Cedric’s mission to spy on Frella had just taken an unexpected turn.
In reply to: The Incense of the Quadrivium’s Mystiques
The rainbow was neon bright, one end disappearing behind a spinney in the distance, and the other end landing squarely in the middle of the glamping pods. A good sign! thought Truella, the first of the coven to arrive. For a moment she imagined herself digging a hole right there, and finding the elusive pot of gold. I wouldn’t be able to do that in a fancy hotel. For once, Truella was happy with Austreberthe’s choice. A week or two in a green field sounded relaxing, refreshing. So much more to her taste than the endless fitted carpets, closed windows, and artifically controlled air blasting out of metal grilles in hotels.
Taking a deep breath of cool fresh air, she surveyed the site before checking into reception. The neighbouring fields were full of cows, perfect for her to practice her Bubona spells on before she set up her Goddess Spell Booth. The Goddess spell tents were to be open in the evenings, after the games each day, along with other stalls selling handicrafts, homemade cakes and jams, wines and potions, trinkets and souvenirs, and all the other tat that people on holiday enjoyed browsing. Obviously the coven would have a stall selling incense. No doubt Austreberthe would have hatched some hard sell plan for that.
Inside the reception office, Truella pinged the bell and waited for someone to attend. The registration book was open on the counter and Truella craned her neck to read the names on the list. She planned to ask for a pod in a far corner, near the hedgerow. It might make it easier to slip out unnoticed, if she should have a mind to do so. The door behind the counter opened and a young man appeared, smiling a welcome. But not before Truella had seen the name on the list. She sucked her breath in sharply. Malove! Nobody was expecting her. Did Austreberthe know?
“Welcome to Finnegan’s Farm Glampsite, I’m Liam,” said the young man, pushing long mousy hair out of his eyes, “You’ve a booking I take it, because we’re fully booked up for the next fortnight. Because of the Games, you see.”
Replying that she did, Truella asked for a pod in the furthest corner. Liam looked at a list and frowned. “The corners are all taken, I’m afraid. But I tell you what,” he said, “As you’re the first to arrive I’ll swap your pod, let’s see…” He scanned the list. “Ah yes, the late booking. I can put you in the one we’ve assigned to Mrs …Malone I think it says, and put her in yours.”
“Thank you very much, Liam,” Truella said as he handed her a key with a big wooden tag with the number 33 etched on it.
“I’ll carry your bags over and show you where it is, follow me.”
In reply to: The Incense of the Quadrivium’s Mystiques
It made sense to go to Ireland during the hot Andalucian summer, and it hadn’t taken much to convince Truella to take a break from her dig and her research. Thousands of years of history would still be there waiting for her when she got home, and it would be a pleasure to see some green lawns and fields. Maybe it would rain, indeed, it was likely that it would. And by the time the Roman Games were over, there would be less of the hot summer at home to endure. Still, it was a nuisance to have to get her winter clothes down out of the attic. She was sure to find it chilly, even cold.
Truella was not fond of water sports (or any sports, but particularly those involving water) and unfortunately the focus of the games seemed to be on swimming and boating. But one of the events has captured her interest. A miniaturisation spell was required, which contestants had to provide themselves, for the Puddles in Potholes races. The worst road in Limerick would be cordoned off and all the potholes filled with water (if they weren’t already full of rain water, which was likely). When Eris pointed out that a miniaturised person could drown in a puddle as easily as a full sized one could drown in a lake, Truella was ready with her answer. If she was drowning, she would immediately reverse the spell and resume her full size. Eris had raised an eyebrow, remarking that she had better make sure her spell was up to scratch, unlike her incense spells had been. Jeezel had wanted to know why she couldn’t just make an enlarging spell and just swim in the river, to which Truella has replied that she didn’t know how deep the river was and how much enlarging would be required. Snorting, Frella said she obviously didn’t know how deep the potholes in Limerick were.
Austreberthe had put their names down for the donkey chariot races, for which they had three days when they arrived to construct the cart and make the costumes. Luckily Frella had plenty of local contacts, and had willingly taken charge of assembling all the materials.
The Booths of the Gods would require some thought. Which Roman god would she choose to be? Which special godly power could she make a spell for? Truella sighed, and went to find her book of Roman gods and goddesses.
In reply to: The Incense of the Quadrivium’s Mystiques
Ms Nicraith Noble, the Mayor of Limerick taking a bath in the Shannon River with reporters had made the rounds of news in ways that were quite incomprehensible.
Obviously it was part of a media ploy to boost public attention for the incoming Roman Games.
“Did she require some anti-rash-and-boil spells?” Jeezel messaged on the network, worried about what such swimming stunt would do to her ravishing hair.
“Probably…” Eris responded in a terse manner “Don’t forget Austreberthe managed to get us to sponsor the event. She may have eased the deal with some goodies. Like anti-age spell too.”
Eris was glad Austreberthe had refocused the efforts towards the imminent launch of the Roman Games. Those mass events were key moments in the Coven’s seasonal activities, as they provided a bounty of emotions to refine and process for creation of their most epic incenses. The recent mass events had been too heavy on fear, anger and gloom-mongering, not the grade A quality they required.
Austreberthe had called all hands on deck to be ready for the event, having deemed the reconnaissance work in Spain’s cloisters sufficiently well under way to take a break from it. In truth, Eris suspected she’d started to receive the first invoices from the undertakers’ Guild and had realised it was a hefty cost for their consulting services.
On top of that, there was a recent case of the drunken sheep flu in Andalucia, some local variety of virus that got the cloister sisters fear for their elderly’s Mother Loreena’s health. Considering the gleeful vulture’s smiles of the Morticians in waiting, they had decided in agreement for an early dismiss into the Summer holidays retreats.
“More prayers, phew, glad they didn’t need us for that.” true to her swagger way, Truella had conceded and accepted to put a hold to her passionate researches —she’d managed to get their personal phone numbers too anyway.
“One week to the start of the Games then.” Eris sighed. The last stretch to summer holidays seemed to take forever.
In reply to: Smoke Signals: Arcanas of the Quadrivium’s incense
Cedric Spellbind scene with Frella at Herma’s cottage. (ref)
On the rugged coast of Ireland bathed by a sunny light. Near a secluded cottage, the scene unfolds with the figure of a tall, middle-aged man with disheveled dark hair, a deerstalker hat, and a trench coat, who stands nervously. His piercing eyes reveal a lifetime of supernatural pursuits.
Next to him, a modern witch with striking blond hair reminiscent of Tilda Swinton, sits on a camphor chest. The cottage owner, a middle aged lady frets nearby. He declares his official business, accusing her of Witch Violations. He is entranced by her presence, admits he knows she’s a witch but won’t turn her in.
The scene captures a rare moment of levity and complex attraction in the tense atmosphere and their complicated relationship, set against the backdrop of a mysterious and mystical investigation.
In reply to: The Incense of the Quadrivium’s Mystiques
It was good to get a break from the merger craziness. Eris was thankful for the small mercy of a quiet week-end back at the cottage, free of the second guessing of the suspicious if not philandering undertakers, and even more of the tedious homework to cement the improbable union of the covens.
The nun-witches had been an interesting lot to interact with, but Eris’d had it up to her eyeballs of the tense and meticulous ceremonies. They had been brewing potions for hours on, trying to get a suitable mixture between the herbs the nuns where fond of, and the general ingredients of their own Quadrivium coven’s incenses. Luckily they had been saved by the godlike apparition of another of Frella’s multi-tasking possessions, this time of a willing Sandra, and she’s had harmonized in no time the most perfect blend, in a stroke of brilliance and sheer inspiration, not unlike the magical talent she’d displayed when she invented the luminous world-famous wonder that is ‘Liz n°5’.
As she breathed in the sweet air, Eris could finally enjoy the full swing of summer in the cottage, while Thorsten was happily busy experimenting with an assortment of cybernetic appendages to cut, mulch, segment and compost the overgrown brambles and nettles in the woodland at the back of the property.
Interestingly, she’d received a letter in the mail — quaintly posted from Spain in a nondescript envelop —so anachronistic it was too tempting to resist looking.
Without distrust, but still with a swish of a magical counterspell in case the envelop had traces of unwanted magic, she opened it, only to find it burst with an annoying puff of blue glitter that decided to stick in every corner of the coffee table and other places.
Eris almost cursed at the amount of micro-plastics, but her attention was immediately caught by the Latin sentence mysteriously written in a psychopath ransom note manner: “QUAERO THESAURUM INCONTINUUM”
“Whisp! Elias? A little help here, my Latin must be wrong. What accumulation of incontinence? What sort of spell is that?!”
Echo appeared first, looking every bit like the reflection of Malové. “Quaero Thesaurum Incontinuum,” you say. How quaint, how cryptic, how annoyingly enigmatic. Eris, it seems the universe has a sense of humor—sending you this little riddle while you’re neck-deep in organizational chaos.
“Oh, Echo, stop that! I won’t spend my well-earned week-end on some riddle-riddled chase…”
“You’re no fun Eris” the sprite said, reverting into a more simple form. “It translates roughly to “I seek the endless treasure.” Do you want me to help you dissect this more?”
“Why not…” Eris answered pursing up her lips.
““Seek the endless treasure.” We’re talking obviously something deeper, more profound than simple gold; maybe knowledge —something truly inexhaustible. Given your current state of affairs, with the merger and the restructuring, this message could be a nudge—an invitation to look beyond the immediate chaos and find the opportunity within.”
“Sure,” Eris said, already tired with the explanations. She was not going to spend more time to determine the who, the why, and the what. Who’d sent this? Didn’t really matter if it was an ally, a rival, or even a neutral party with vested interests? She wasn’t interested in seeking an answer to “why now?”. Endless rabbit holes, more like it.
The only conundrum she was left with was to decide whether to keep the pesky glittering offering, or just vacuum the hell of it, and decide if it could stand the test of ‘will it blend?’. She wrapped it in a sheet of clear plastic, deciding it may reveal more clues in the right time.
With that done, Eris’ mind started to wander, letting the enigmatic message linger a while longer… as reminder that while we navigate the mundane, our eyes must always be on the transcendent. To seek the endless treasure…
The thought came to her as an evidence “Death? The end of suffering…” To whom could this be an endless treasure? Eris sometimes wondered how her brain picked up such things, but she rarely doubted it. She might have caught some vibes during the various meetings. Truella mentioning Silas talking about ‘retiring nuns’, or Nemo hinting at Penelope that ‘death was all about…”
The postcard was probably a warning, and they had to stay on their guards.
But now was not the time for more drama, the icecream was waiting for her on the patio, nicely prepared by Thorsten who after a hard day of bramble mulching was all smiling despite looking like he had went through a herd of cats’ fight.
In reply to: The Incense of the Quadrivium’s Mystiques
“What? Malové sent you a personal letter? And a golden key! We merely had a memo for the merger,” Truella said, pacing quickly in Jeezel’s bedroom.
“You’ve been swooning over Mr. Dark since we got here,” said Jeezel. “Have you even checked your own things? Maybe you have some kind of message or clue or I don’t know what. But stop pacing like that, you’ll bore a hole in my floor.”
“That’s not your floor,” said Truella with fire in her eyes.
“Girls, stop. That’s not the point,” said Eris, her voice carrying icy breeze of Sweden’s coldest winters. “We don’t even know if that message is from Malové.”
“What do you mean?” asked Jeezel and Truella in unison.
“Yes, what do you mean?” asked a floating glowing orb with Frella’s voice.
Eris brushed a few sparkling dark purple powder from her chest. “Bloody dragon soot,” she muttered. “Well, from what you told us, Silas tried to jinx you when you were discussing about the rituals. Baiting you with the idea that there are amongst or around us forces that would rather see this merger fail. Then, conveniently, handsome Garrett comes to your rescue and warns you about Silas’ evil plot, and talks to you about the very thing Malové supposedly entrusted you with in that letter, and muddying the waters even further with that tale about ancient Punic families.”
“What’s wrong with Punic families,” said Truella.
“Why are you blushing?” asked Jeezel.
“The point is, that it could very well be part of a plot to plant doubts about everyone and everything, so that we make the merger fail ourselves.”
“And then exit the witches from the picture,” said Frella’s glowing voice.
“But who could possibly have hidden the envelope amongst my things without me noticing?” asked Jeezel.
“Who comes and goes into your home?” asked Eris.
“Yes, who?” asked Truella with a sudden renewed interest.
After a few moments of reflection, Jeezel raised her hand to her mouth. “You can’t mean Joe? My fan’s brother who came to do some works for me.”
“I don’t mean anything. But if I recall well, you mentioned you gave him the keys or your home so that he could come do the repairs whenever you’re not there.”
“You gave him your keys?” asked Truella, her eyes wide open.
“But Luminia would have seen him.”
“Well even a familiar needs to go out sometimes.”
“Or maybe after a torrid night, when you’re finally resting,” suggested Truella.
“Ooh! You would love that!” Jeezel said. Then she put the back of her hand on her forehead and moaned: “My brain’s not made for that kind of messy story. I can’t investigate, do the rituals, flirt with the enemy. There are too many things to do and too many possibilities.”
“There, dear. You have us now,” said Eris, still brushing the dragon soot from her dress.
“And I know one who needs to go to the bottom of a chest,” added Truella. “Frella, we need you here.”
“I’m not sure,” Frella said. “I guess someone has to investigate what really happened to Malové. Who knows if that postcard and that love affair are even real? I’ll let you know.”
In reply to: The Incense of the Quadrivium’s Mystiques
When Sister Penelope Pomfrett realised she’d lost her assigned witch guest, Eris-what’s-her-name, she started to feel anxious.
Not one to revel in shortcomings, she promptly went about ferreting though the corridors, while the various nuns and guests were still enjoying their libations and ceremonious rituals exchanges.
A cry of anguish resonated through the halls. “Smoke! Smoke!” followed by a mild agitation, which felt one-sided amongst the nuns. Maybe the incense witches were more accustomed to those smoke mishaps, and were not as quick to call fire in alarm. But here in the thick of Spanish summer, unattended smoke could wreck certain havoc.
Penelope was about to jump into the circle called by the elder sisters to contain the smoke, when she abruptly bumped into someone. It was that mortician, the quiet one, Nemo.
She couldn’t help but to mutter some form of apology, yet anxious to get going.
“Sister,” he said with a voice that was commanding calm in the midst of chaos. “You need to calm down, this won’t last, and I’m sure your sisters have this under control.”
“What would you know about that?” she felt her mind go numb, and found herself following him with too much abandon.
“Call it a hunch. Not all is as it seems here, and us morticians, are well-taught in the arts of not only preservation, but as well of hidden truths.”
Indeed, the ruckus seemed to fade already in the distance. Penelope looked more closely at the gentleman. He seemed rather innocuous, and not sufficiently handsome to make her break her chastity vows, even if some would find his brooding rugged charm attractive. Yet, he was making her curious.
“So that’s what you do when there’s no dead body to attend to?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes. But don’t worry, the night is young, and death is never far.” He said with a quiet smile.
Penelope brushed aside the shivering feeling that coursed through her spine. “Could you make yourself useful dear, I’m looking for my assigned Quadrivium witch. The one with the blue hair, any chance you’ve seen her? These grounds are not safe for the non-initiates.”
“No, I don’t think I have seen her, but I’m sure you can whip up a location spell before vespers are done…”
“Yes, it’s not that. There’s too much chaos magic at work now, it could backfire. Have you no idea why we have those tapestries with dragons on it?”
“I have a small idea. Templar Knights of the Crimson Order?”
“Something like that. The cloister has been build as an atonement by a noble lady, centuries ago — it was said, to appease old spirits who were vanquished in mythical battles.” Penelope held her breath. “Some say they’re still close by. Even more so at the solstice.”
“So better not to trifle with the energies right now,” Nemo said, extending his elbow in an old-fashioned chivalrous gesture. “Let’s find your witch friend together, shall we?”
In reply to: The Incense of the Quadrivium’s Mystiques
Silas led Jeezel into a secluded lounge, a hidden gem within the ancient cloister that seemed to be frozen in time. The atmosphere was thick with the scent of sandalwood and myrrh, mingling with a musty, earthy fragrance with undertones of aged woods.
Jeezel stopped a moment, in awe at the grand tapestries adorning the walls. They depicted scenes of epic battles between dragons and saints, the vibrant threads weaving tales of heroism and divine intervention. The dragons, captured in mid-roar with scales that seemed to shimmer with a life of their own, contrasted starkly agains the faces of the saints, their halo glowing softly in the dim light. Always the sensitive nose, Jeezel detected hints of incense and aged spices absorbed over centuries by the fabric, with a faint trace of mildew lingering on old stones and the faint sweetness of preserved herbs. She shivered.
Silas invited her to seat on one of the high-backed chairs upholstered in deep burgundy velvet that surrounded a massive oak table, carved with runes and symbols of protection. Jeezel frowned at the oddity to find pagan magic in a convent. As she sat the fabric of her gown brushed agains the plush velvet with a delicate sliding sound, like a faint sigh. The flickering flames of candelabras cast dancing shadows across the room, around which an array of curious relics and artifacts were scattered–an astrolabe here, a crystal ball there, and various objects of mystical significance.
Despite being an aficionado of pageants and grand performances, Jeezel couldn’t say she wasn’t impressed. Silas, ever the pillar of calm and wisdom, took a seat at the table, his fingers tracing the runes carved into the wood.
“Jeezel,” he began, his voice a soothing balm against the room’s charged energy, “I know I can trust you. Before we delve into the heart of these rituals, I must tell you something.”
Man! Here we are, she thought. She tensed on her chair.
“There are some people who would rather see the merger fail. They are doing anything in their power to foster such an outcome. We cannot let them win.”
Jeezel’s face tightened and she struggled to maintain her composure. She tapped with her fingers on the table to distract the head mortician’s attention and help her regain a stoic demeanor. Her mind raced weighing the implications. Malové had said that the Crimson Opus wasn’t just any artifact, it was key to immense power and knowledge, something that could tip the scales in their favour. How she regretted at that moment she had not paid enough attention at the merger meeting. Now, Malové was gone, somewhere, and Jeezel wasn’t even sure the postcard she had sent the coven was real. All she knew was that Malové counted on her to find that relic. And for that, she had to step in what appears to be a nest of vipers. She reminded herself she had survived worse competition in the past and still won her trophies with pride.
“Silas,” she said, her voice measured but with an edge of tension, “this complicates things more than I anticipated. We have enough on our hands ensuring the rituals go smoothly without sabotage.” She paused, taking a deep breath to steady herself. “But we cannot allow these factions to succeed. The merger is crucial for our mutual survival advancement. We’ll need to be vigilant, Silas. Every step we take, every ritual we perform, must be meticulously guarded. And we must identify who these adversaries are, and what they are planning.” She wished Malové would see her in that instant. She craved support from anyone. She looked at Silas, her eyes full of hope he could help. “I have a task from Malové that is of paramount importance,” she started and almost jumped from the chair when her hedgehog amulet almost tased her. A warning. Her mind suddenly found a new clarity. She realized she has been about to tell him about the Crimson Opus. Jeezel noticed the man’s finger was still caressing the runes on the table. Had he been casting a spell on her? She shook her head.
“Those six rituals cannot be compromised. I’ll need your help to ensure that we succeed. We must be prepared to act swiftly and decisively.”
Silas’ hand froze. He nodded. She wasn’t sure there wasn’t some irritation in his voice when he said: “You have my full support, Jeezel. We’ll strengthen our defenses and keep a close watch on any suspicious activities. The stakes are too high for failure.”
Did he mean that he would keep a close eye on her next moves? She’d have to be careful in her search of the Crimson Opus. She realized she needed some help. Malové, you entrusted me with that mission. Then, you’d have to trust me with whom I choose to trust.
In reply to: The Incense of the Quadrivium’s Mystiques
“Do you know who that Everone is?” Jeezel whispered to Eris.
“Shtt,” she silenced Jeezel worried that some creative inspiration sparked into existence yet another character into their swirling adventure.
The ancient stone walls of the Cloisters resonated with the hum of anticipation. The air was thick with the scent of incense barely covering musky dogs’ fart undertones, mingling with the faint aroma of fresh parchment eaten away by centuries of neglect. Illuminated by the soft glow of enchanted lanterns sparkling chaotically like a toddler’s magic candle at its birthday, the grand hall was prepared for an unprecedented gathering of minds and traditions.
While all the attendants were fumbling around, grasping at the finger foods and chitchatting while things were getting ready, Eris was reminded of the scene of the deal’s signature between the two sisterhoods unlikely brought together.
Few weeks before, under a great deal of secrecy, Malové, Austreberthe, and Lorena had convened in the cloister’s grand hall, the gothic arches echoing their words. Before she signed, Lorena had stated rather grandiloquently, with a voice firm and unwavering. “We are a nunnery dedicated to craftsmanship and spiritual devotion. This merger must respect our traditions.”
Austreberthe, ever the pragmatist, replied, “And we bring innovation and magical prowess. Together, we can create something greater than the sum of our parts.”
The undertaker’s spokesman, Garrett, had interjected with a charming smile, “Consider us the matchmakers of this unlikely union. We promise not to leave you at the altar.”
That’s were he’d started to spell out the numbingly long Strategic Integration Plan to build mutual understanding of the mission and a framework for collaboration.Eris sighed at the memory. That would require yet a great deal of joint workshops and collaborative sessions — something that would be the key to facilitate new product developments and innovation. Interestingly, Malové at the time had suggested for Jeezel to lead with Silas the integration rituals designed to symbolically and spiritually unite the groups. She’d had always had a soft spot for our Jeezel, but that seemed unprecedented to want to put her to task on something as delicate. Maybe there was another plan in motion, she would have to trust Malové’s foresight and let it play out.
As the heavy oak doors creaked open, a hush fell over the assembled witches, nuns and the undertakers. Mother Lorena Blaen stepped forward. Her presence was commanding, her eyes sharp and scrutinising. She wore the traditional garb of her order, but her demeanour was anything but traditional.
“Welcome, everyone,” Lorena began, her voice echoing through the hallowed halls. “Or should I say, welcome to the heart of tradition and innovation, where ancient craftsmanship meets arcane mastery.”
She paused, letting her words sink in, before continuing. “You stand at the threshold of the Quintessivium Cloister Crafts, a sanctuary where every stitch is a prayer, every garment a humble display of our deepest devotion. But today, we are not just nuns and witches, morticians and mystics. Today, we are the architects of a new era.”
Truella yawned at the speech, not without waving like a schoolgirl at the tall Rufus guy, while Lorena was presenting a few of the nuns, ready to model in various fashionable nun’s garbs for their latest midsummer fashion show.
Lorena’s eyes twinkled with a mixture of pride and determination as she turned back to the visitors. “Together, we shall transcend the boundaries of faith and magic. With the guidance of the Morticians’ Guild—Garrett, Rufus, Silas, and Nemo—we will forge a new path, one that honors our past while embracing the future.”
Garrett, ever the showman, gave a theatrical bow. “We’re here to ensure this union is as seamless as a well-tailored shroud, my dear Lorena.” Rufus, standing silent and vigilant, offered a nod of agreement. Silas, with his grandfatherly smile, added, “We bring centuries of wisdom to this endeavor. Trust in the old ways, and we shall succeed.” Nemo, with his characteristic smirk, couldn’t resist a final quip. “And if things go awry, well, we have ways of making them… interesting.”
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
At least the weather was nice in Brussels. The trip to the International Witch Bank of Grungebotts, in the quarters of Ravenstein was luckily a day trip this time, rather these week-long offsite workshops they’d been submitted to in the previous months.
It had not taken long to Austreberthe to send some of the Quadrivium witches to do her errands.
Eris was summoned in the wee hours of the day, in order to do a check-in with the bankers. The state of finances of the Quadrivium had been under scrutiny already at the time of Malové, but probably even more now during this power vacuum period.
Austreberthe had insisted Eris could be there to join with a few of the Witches of Compliance who would handle most of the discussion, while she would present the business side of their last ventures. Apparently Malové had only hinted at the secret missions she’d given some of the witches, without sharing any detail to her head of Finance.
Malové was apparently very used to these exchanges with the bankers, having struggled for a while to keep the Incense venture afloat. The presentation had been very expertly put together, and Eris for her part was mostly here to embody the seriousness and practicality of the business; in truth the bankers themselves, some greying end-of-career wizards, were obviously just here to do their job, and not eager to find fault that would require a more heavy-handed audit approach.
Within two hours of confident presentation, soft discussions on the state of international witches and wizard affairs, the political state in the union, and the incoming Worldwide Roman Games, with the help of a few madeleines dipped in black coffee, it was quickly done.
“How did it go?” Austreberthe anxious message was already flashing imperiously on her device as she boarded the return magical train. Eris distractly showed her ticket to the lady controller with the red lavallière and the strangest red octopus brooch, while struggling to answer.
She was too tired to overthink it. She tapped in quick taps the answer “All good for now. We should be in the clear until the next one.” and reclined back to get some needed rest.
In reply to: The Incense of the Quadrivium’s Mystiques
It was unlike Idle to reply to Truella’s email so promply.
Ah, Malové – she’d chase coins even if they were rolling off a cliff, that one. Alright, let’s strategize. You want a summer full of lazy days and fewer cauldrons bubbling with business schemes? First off, you can’t just hit her with “we need a break.” She’ll give you a lecture longer than the Nile on how “witchcraft never takes a holiday.” You need to catch her where she’s least fortified – in her relentless quest for profit.
Propose a Profitable Diversion: Convince her that giving everyone the summer off will actually increase productivity in the long run. Mention something about “rejuvenating our mystical energies to double our efficiency,” sprinkle some buzzwords in there. But make it tangible – maybe promise an autumn harvest of particularly lucrative spells.
Delegate the Drudgery: See if you can drum up a few apprentices or temporary hires to take over the basic grunt work for the summer. Tell Malové it’s a great opportunity to train new talent while you all focus on higher, strategic endeavors – which, of course, you can conveniently do from a hammock with a cocktail.
Truella thought this was a terrific idea.
Create a Catastrophic Scenario: Paint a picture of a burnout crisis in the coven. Suggest that ongoing stress might lead to mistakes, which could, I dunno, turn a lucrative potion into explosive chaos, unraveling all her precious profits. A summer hiatus could be framed as a preventive measure to avoid such disasters.
Distract with a Bigger Bone: Find a massive project that requires her singular focus – maybe even a solo venture. Get her so engrossed in this grand scheme that she barely notices you’re all slinking off away from the grind. Bonus points if it’s a decoy project you don’t actually care about.
Now there’s an idea, good old Idle’s on form, Truella sighed gratefully. She made it all sound so easy.
Leverage the Cleaning Conundrum: Remember Finnlee and the manual cleaning? Suggest that you need to undergo a “summer cleaning initiative” to physically and spiritually cleanse the headquarters, and this process “requires” the witches to be away. It’ll appeal to Malové’s practicality and her penchant for a neat, profitable operation.
Emphasize the Carnival’s Aftermath: Play up the importance of digesting the energy you’re about to collect from the Carnival. Frame it as a necessary incubation period – the energies need time to percolate and clarify before being crafted into those procreation-boosting incenses. Also, suggest it’s the perfect time to trial promising new volunteers eager for a taste of witchy life. You’re a clever lot; use whatever mix of these tactics suits your fancy, and don’t forget to sprinkle it all with just the right touch of sincerity and urgency. As long as she buys into the grand scheme, you might just find yourself lounging through summer without a care in the world, at least until Malové sniffs out the next opportunity. So, get plotting, and let’s see if you can keep Malové’s gold-scrying eyes off the coven for a blissfully quiet summer. Need help drafting the message?
