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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
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
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
While the other sisters were mingling, and trying to figure out with some circumspection, the good which could come out of this union, Eris had retreated in a quieter corner of the cloister. After all, and despite the renovations made to cater to external seminars, workshops and celebrations, it remained a place of mystery and introspection. The stone walls had this deep cold quietness which felt refreshing in the scolding heat of things.
For the past weeks, Eris was mulling over the impossible assignment given by Austreberthe to conduct a reorganisation, which seemed preposterious. Now, with the merger in motion, it had become plain for the Quadrivium board of directors that there was a need to change their way.
Put in another way, they were basically saying that the autonomous functioning of their small squads of witches wasn’t helping for a larger expansion, and had to move to more industrial separation of tasks, something of a matricial organisation. The irony wasn’t lost on her — talking about mothers, matrix, but actually being more bent to patriarchal structure with all the new additions asked for by the merger of figureheads: head of product, head of delivery, head of convergence all these new roles to invent —yet feeling thoroughly alien, akin to grafting machine onto a living organism. The Quadrivium had always thrived on its autonomous squads, and the idea of industrialising their structure seemed almost heretical.
The undertakers consultants, with their methodical approach were supposed to help, but she hadn’t been able yet to make them work for her, as she could see them struggle with the finer nuances of their craft.
Looking for inspiration in the quiet space she’d found, Eris closed her eyes, drawing a deep breath. Her mind wandered to her Aunt Amara’s garden, where order and chaos coexisted in a delicate balance.
A plan started to present itself, almost like one of those annoying lists that Malové would often love to provide.
It had to start with mapping the terrain —the existing strengths of the autonomous groups in the coven. It would require documenting their capabilities, ongoing projects, and key members, creating a clear picture of what the coven had to offer.
Then to look at potential synergies between the squads and the new roles Austreberthe envisioned. The Head of Product could harness the creative energies of the crafting squad, while the Head of Delivery might streamline the efforts of those specializing in executing the vision into tangible deliverables. The Head of Convergence would need to be a master diplomat, someone who could bridge the gap between the nuns and the witches.
More subtle, but with potential, the next step came in boldly, with an impudence that could mean as much genius as it could spell out disaster: Hybrid Squads. Instead of dismantling the existing groups of the coven, she could propose hybrid squads. Each hybrid squad would retain its core identity but include members from the Cloister Crafts and have a liaison to the new heads. This way, the squads could maintain their autonomy while integrating new skills and perspectives.
She took a moment to ponder the implications.
Eris knew she would need to test this approach before full-scale implementation. She would start with pilot projects, assigning a few key squads to work under the new structure. Regular feedback sessions would allow adjustments and refinements, ensuring the system evolved organically.
That would be where the Morticians’ Guild would be able to support more directly. Garrett and Silas could facilitate the integration rituals and workshops to ease any lingering tensions. Rufus would ensure security, while Nemo, the analyst, would provide insights into improving efficiencies without compromising their magical integrity.
All this needed a catalyst, or this plan would drag on forever.
Drag on…
Nothing like a dragon crisis to put things in motion! There surely were abundant dragon energy left in those tunnels, powerful telluric energies to muster into a spell to invigorate and cement the newfound alliance between witches and nuns.
She snapped her fingers. Echo who was never far away, reappeared with a smirk. “I can see you have some devious idea. How can I help?”
In reply to: The Incense of the Quadrivium’s Mystiques
At the end of the undertakers’ speech, conversations surged, drowning out the 14th-century organ music. Mother Lorena, who seemed to have taken the expression lines to a deeper level, gave imperative angry looks at her nuns who swiftly moved to meet with the witches.
“Hold your beath,” said Eris to Jeezel. “That Mr ash blond hair is coming for you.”
“Sh*t! I don’t have time for that,” said Jeezel looking at the striking young man. Meticulously styled to perfection and a penchant for tailored suits, she knew that kind of dandy, they were more difficult to get rid of than an army of orange slugs after a storm. She stole a champagne flute from Bartolo’s silver tray and flitted with a graceful nonchalance towards the buffet.
“Hi Jeezel! I’m sister Maria. You’re so beautiful,” said a joyful voice. “You want some canapés? I made them myself.”
Jeezel turned and almost moved her hand to her mouth. A young woman wearing the austere yet elegant black habit of the Roman Catholic Church was handing her a plate full of potted meat and pickles toasts. She had chameleon eyes busy looking everywhere except to what was in front of her. The white wimple covering her red hair seemed totally out of place and her face made the strangest contortions as she obviously was trying not to smile.
“Hi, I’m… Jeezel. But you already know that,” she said. The young woman nodded too earnestly and Jeezel suddenly became aware the nuns certainly had files about her and the other witches like the ones Truella gave them. She looked at the greasy canapés and refused politely. She just had time to notice a crimson silk handkerchief in a breast pocket and a flash of ash blond hair closing in.
“Oh! I’m sorry. I just remember, I have to go speak to my friend over there,” Jeezel said noticing Truella with a nun in a Buddhist outfit.
She left the redhead nun with a laugh that twinkled like stardust.
Truella’s friend didn’t seem too happy to have Jeezel barging in on their conversation. She said she was called sister Ananda. Her stained glass painted face didn’t seem to fit her saffron bhikkunis. And the oddest thing was she dominated the conversation, mostly about the diversity of mushrooms she’d been cultivating in the shade of old cellars buried deep in the cloister’s underground tunnels. Truella was sipping her soda, and nodding occasionally. But from what Jeezel could observe, the witch was busy keeping an eye on that tall, dark mortician who certainly looked suspicious.
Young sister Maria hadn’t given up. She joined the conversation with a tray full of what looked like green and pink samosas. Jeezel started to feel like a doe hunted by a pack of relentless beagles.
“You need to try those! Sister Ananda made them for you,” said the young Nun. Her colourful lips showed she had just tasted a few of them.
“At last,” said Garrett with a voice too deep for such a young handsome face, “you’re as difficult to catch as moonlight on the water. Elusive, mesmerizing, and always just out of reach. One moment you’re dazzling us all with your brillance, the next…”
“As usual, you speak too much, Garrett,” said Silas, the oldest of the morticians who just joined the group. The old man’s voice was commanding and his poise projecting an air of unwavering confidence. He had neatly trimmed grey hair and piercing hazel eyes that seem to see right through to the heart of any matter. “May we talk for a moment, dear Jeezel? I think we have some things to discuss.”
“Do we?” she asked, a shiver going up her spine. Her voice sounded uncertain and her heart started beating faster. Did he know about the sacred relic she was looking for? Was he going to ask her on a date too?
“The ritual, dear. The ritual we have to perform together tonight.”
“Oh! Yes, the ritual,” she sighed with relief.
Silas took her hand and they left the group just as Truella was asking a Garrett: “Won’t Rufus join us?”
“I don’t think so,” he answered coldly. But his eyes were full of passion and his heart full of envy as he watched Jeezel walk away with his mentor in a secluded lounge.
In reply to: Smoke Signals: Arcanas of the Quadrivium’s incense
From left to right:
Silas, Garrett, Rufus, Nemo
Silas, often the leader, possesses an analytical mind and a strategic approach to problem-solving. His leadership style is methodical yet adaptable, ensuring that the team stays on course while remaining open to new ideas.
Garrett complements Silas with his creative thinking and innovative solutions. He is the team’s visionary, always looking for the next big idea that will propel their projects forward.
Rufus provides the grounding force, bringing practicality and a hands-on approach. His technical expertise and ability to implement plans effectively ensure that concepts become reality.
Lastly, Nemo is the wildcard, blending a mix of unpredictability and resourcefulness. His unconventional methods often lead to breakthroughs that the others might not have considered.
Together, these four individuals create a dynamic synergy. Their different strengths and perspectives allow them to tackle challenges from multiple angles, making them a formidable team.
Silas’s strategic insights guide the group, Garrett’s creative inputs spark innovation, Rufus’s practical skills bring plans to life, and Nemo’s unique approach rounds out their capabilities. This balance of skills ensures that they are well-equipped to handle a variety of tasks and projects, navigating both predictable and unexpected obstacles with ease. Their collaboration highlights the importance of diverse talents and viewpoints in achieving common goals.
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: Smoke Signals: Arcanas of the Quadrivium’s incense
The Morticians Guild:
Nemo Tenebris, and let me tell ya, he’s a character straight out of one of those dark romance novels. Tall, brooding, with tousled hair somewhere between charcoal and mahogany, he’s got that rugged charm that makes even the bravest witches’ hearts skip a beat. His hands are like an artist’s, always deliberate and precise, whether he’s handling ancient texts or, well, more corporeal tasks. His personality? Think intense and enigmatic, with occasional bursts of biting humor. He’s the type who’ll share a grim tale and then light the room with a grin that makes you question your reality. Don’t underestimate him – he’s a master of necromancy and has an uncanny sensitivity to life’s deepest mysteries.
Silas Gravewalker. An older gent, he looks as though he’s always expecting a foggy night – grey cloak, even greyer hair, and eyes the color of storm clouds. His demeanor is gentle but don’t mistake it for weakness. He’s the wise old guardian of the Guild, carrying centuries of rituals, chants, and incantations within him. Silas is a remarkable blend of grandfatherly wisdom and hidden strength, and he’s a calming presence in the midst of chaos. His sense of humor is dryer than the Outback in summer, subtle yet striking at just the right moments. When Silas speaks, you listen, because his words are often tinged with layers of arcane meaning.
Rufus Blackwood: Enter Rufus Blackwood, the stoic guardian of the guild. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, with a presence that commands both respect and a shiver down the spine. His hair is a dusty shade of midnight black, streaked with the occasional silver – probably from the weight of the secrets he carries. His eyes are a pale grey, like the fog rolling off a moor, always scanning, always measuring. He’s perpetually clad in a long, leather duster coat that sweeps the floor as he glides across the room.
Personality-wise, Rufus is the strong, silent type, but when he speaks, it feels like ancient tombs whispering forgotten wisdom. He’s got a dry humor that surfaces in the most unexpected moments, like a ray of moonlight in a pitch-black night. He’s fiercely protective of his coven and guildmates, and there’s a sense of old-world honor about him. Underneath that granite exterior is a surprisingly tender heart that only a select few have glimpsed.
Garrett Ashford: Now, Garrett Ashford, he’s a bit of a dandy, as far as morticians go. Picture a man of average height but with presence larger than life. His hair is a striking ash blonde, always perfectly coiffed, and his attire is meticulously sharp – tailored suits, often in dark, rich fabrics with just a hint of eccentricity, like a red silk handkerchief or a silver pocket watch. His eyes are a sharp, pale blue, twinkling with a touch of playful mischief.
Garrett’s got a personality as polished as his appearance. He’s charismatic, with a knack for easing tensions with a well-timed joke or a charming smile. Though he might come off as a bit of a showman, make no mistake – Garrett’s got depth and a sharp mind. He’s a skilled embalmer and incantation master, knowing just the right touch to handle even the most delicate of cases. His flair for the dramatic doesn’t overshadow his competence; it complements it. He’s the kind of bloke who can discuss the darkest of topics with a light-hearted grace, making him a bit of a paradox but undeniably captivating.
In reply to: Family Stories From The Other Side ~ Book Two
Wood Screw Manufacturers
The Fishers of West Bromwich.
My great grandmother, Nellie Fisher, was born in 1877 in Wolverhampton. Her father William 1834-1916 was a whitesmith, and his father William 1792-1873 was a whitesmith and master screw maker. William’s father was Abel Fisher, wood screw maker, victualler, and according to his 1849 will, a “gentleman”.
Nellie Fisher 1877-1956 :
Abel Fisher was born in 1769 according to his burial document (age 81 in 1849) and on the 1841 census. Abel was a wood screw manufacturer in Wolverhampton.
As no baptism record can be found for Abel Fisher, I read every Fisher will I could find in a 30 year period hoping to find his fathers will. I found three other Fishers who were wood screw manufacurers in neighbouring West Bromwich, which led me to assume that Abel was born in West Bromwich and related to these other Fishers.
The wood screw making industry was a relatively new thing when Abel was born.
“The screw was used in furniture but did not become a common woodworking fastener until efficient machine tools were developed near the end of the 18th century. The earliest record of lathe made wood screws dates to an English patent of 1760. The development of wood screws progressed from a small cottage industry in the late 18th century to a highly mechanized industry by the mid-19th century. This rapid transformation is marked by several technical innovations that help identify the time that a screw was produced. The earliest, handmade wood screws were made from hand-forged blanks. These screws were originally produced in homes and shops in and around the manufacturing centers of 18th century Europe. Individuals, families or small groups participated in the production of screw blanks and the cutting of the threads. These small operations produced screws individually, using a series of files, chisels and cutting tools to form the threads and slot the head. Screws produced by this technique can vary significantly in their shape and the thread pitch. They are most easily identified by the profusion of file marks (in many directions) over the surface. The first record regarding the industrial manufacture of wood screws is an English patent registered to Job and William Wyatt of Staffordshire in 1760.”
Wood Screw Makers of West Bromwich:
Edward Fisher, wood screw maker of West Bromwich, died in 1796. He mentions his wife Pheney and two underage sons in his will. Edward (whose baptism has not been found) married Pheney Mallin on 13 April 1793. Pheney was 17 years old, born in 1776. Her parents were Isaac Mallin and Sarah Firme, who were married in West Bromwich in 1768.
Edward and Pheney’s son Edward was born on 21 October 1793, and their son Isaac in 1795. The executors of Edwards 1796 will are Daniel Fisher the Younger, Isaac Mallin, and Joseph Fisher.There is a marriage allegations and bonds document in 1774 for an Edward Fisher, bachelor and wood screw maker of West Bromwich, aged 25 years and upwards, and Mary Mallin of the same age, father Isaac Mallin. Isaac Mallin and Sarah didn’t marry until 1768 and Mary Mallin would have been born circa 1749. Perhaps Isaac Mallin’s father was the father of Mary Mallin. It’s possible that Edward Fisher was born in 1749 and first married Mary Mallin, and then later Pheney, but it’s also possible that the Edward Fisher who married Mary Mallin in 1774 was Edward Fishers uncle, Daniel’s brother. (I do not know if Daniel had a brother Edward, as I haven’t found a baptism, or marriage, for Daniel Fisher the elder.)
There are two difficulties with finding the records for these West Bromwich families. One is that the West Bromwich registers are not available online in their entirety, and are held by the Sandwell Archives, and even so, they are incomplete. Not only that, the Fishers were non conformist. There is no surviving register prior to 1787. The chapel opened in 1788, and any registers that existed before this date, taken in a meeting houses for example, appear not to have survived.
Daniel Fisher the younger died intestate in 1818. Daniel was a wood screw maker of West Bromwich. He was born in 1751 according to his age stated as 67 on his death in 1818. Daniel’s wife Mary, and his son William Fisher, also a wood screw maker, claimed the estate.
Daniel Fisher the elder was a farmer of West Bromwich, who died in 1806. He was 81 when he died, which makes a birth date of 1725, although no baptism has been found. No marriage has been found either, but he was probably married not earlier than 1746.
Daniel’s sons Daniel and Joseph were the main inheritors, and he also mentions his other children and grandchildren namely William Fisher, Thomas Fisher, Hannah wife of William Hadley, two grandchildren Edward and Isaac Fisher sons of Edward Fisher his son deceased. Daniel the elder presumably refers to the wood screw manufacturing when he says “to my son Daniel Fisher the good will and advantage which may arise from his manufacture or trade now carried on by me.” Daniel does not mention a son called Abel unfortunately, but neither does he mention his other grandchildren. Abel may be Daniel’s son, or he may be a nephew.
The Staffordshire Record Office holds the documents of a Testamentary Case in 1817. The principal people are Isaac Fisher, a legatee; Daniel and Joseph Fisher, executors. Principal place, West Bromwich, and deceased person, Daniel Fisher the elder, farmer.
William and Sarah Fisher baptised six children in the Mares Green Non Conformist registers in West Bromwich between 1786 and 1798. William Fisher and Sarah Birch were married in West Bromwich in 1777. This William was probably born circa 1753 and was probably the son of Daniel Fisher the elder, farmer.
Daniel Fisher the younger and his wife Mary had a son William, as mentioned in the intestacy papers, although I have not found a baptism for William. I did find a baptism for another son, Eutychus Fisher in 1792.
In White’s Directory of Staffordshire in 1834, there are three Fishers who are wood screw makers in Wolverhampton: Eutychus Fisher, Oxford Street; Stephen Fisher, Bloomsbury; and William Fisher, Oxford Street.
Abel’s son William Fisher 1792-1873 was living on Oxford Street on the 1841 census, with his wife Mary and their son William Fisher 1834-1916.
In The European Magazine, and London Review of 1820 (Volume 77 – Page 564) under List of Patents, W Fisher and H Fisher of West Bromwich, wood screw manufacturers, are listed. Also in 1820 in the Birmingham Chronicle, the partnership of William and Hannah Fisher, wood screw manufacturers of West Bromwich, was dissolved.
In the Staffordshire General & Commercial Directory 1818, by W. Parson, three Fisher’s are listed as wood screw makers. Abel Fisher victualler and wood screw maker, Red Lion, Walsal Road; Stephen Fisher wood screw maker, Buggans Lane; and Daniel Fisher wood screw manufacturer, Brickiln Lane.
In Aris’s Birmingham Gazette on 4 January 1819 Abel Fisher is listed with 23 other wood screw manufacturers (Stephen Fisher and William Fisher included) stating that “In consequence of the rise in prices of iron and the advanced price given to journeymen screw forgers, we the undersigned manufacturers of wood screws are under the necessity of advancing screws 10 percent, to take place on the 11th january 1819.”
In Abel Fisher’s 1849 will, he names his three sons Abel Fisher 1796-1869, Paul Fisher 1811-1900 and John Southall Fisher 1801-1871 as the executors. He also mentions his other three sons, William Fisher 1792-1873, Benjamin Fisher 1798-1870, and Joseph Fisher 1803-1876, and daughters Sarah Fisher 1794- wife of William Colbourne, Mary Fisher 1804- wife of Thomas Pearce, and Susannah (Hannah) Fisher 1813- wife of Parkes. His son Silas Fisher 1809-1837 wasn’t mentioned as he died before Abel, nor his sons John Fisher 1799-1800, and Edward Southall Fisher 1806-1843. Abel’s wife Susannah Southall born in 1771 died in 1824. They were married in 1791.
The 1849 will of Abel Fisher:
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