Delphine Inland

The flower turns between delicate fingers. Massimiliano studies its reflexes, tests the thorns with his index finger, and places it back on the purple cushion.

“Diamond flowers are fourteen percent off this month. Witch number 37,292 decided to produce more, but the demand wasn't that great. Well, a nice advantage.”

The butler raises his head. The pleasant flower girl smiles from behind the counter.

“A lucky coincidence, I admit. Could we have a hundred? A delivery service to the palace wouldn't be bad.”

“No problem. It's an additional 12,000 lire. Insurance in case of damage during transport included.”

Massimiliano nods. On the price of 890,000 Lire for the one hundred diamond roses, it is nothing to pay an additional 12,000 to guarantee delivery and insurance.

The butler takes out the block of checks already signed by the Praetor-Duke.

“Pen? I'll give you—”

“Ha! What are you doing!!! It's theft!”

The flower girl glares past the butler. Turning around, Massimiliano notices the Wall Witch busy fiddling with the flower.

“Little girl, that flower is delicate.” The flower girl turns to Massimiliano. “Could you help me? Your sister is a little agitated.”

Massimiliano frowns. The Witch's giggle behind him makes him uncomfortable.

She and her mania for covering the aegis. How embarrassing.

“Sorry for the misunderstanding. But she is not my sister.”

“Ho, I didn't realize that the flowers… are you engaged?”

The Witch laughs. Massimiliano weighs the idea for a few moments. He knows it is just an act, but being with a Witch would be even better than being a blood relative. If nothing else, he would be loved and not a hindrance in finding an heir.

Even if Judas isn't exactly loved, maybe when he was young.

“We are not engaged. I am sorry to have confused you. That girl is the Wall Witch of the Delphine house. She hides the aegis because she does not like it.”

The flower girl blanches. Well, he knew it. Massimiliano hates these situations. People normally behave, and no one knows that under a bow hides an aegis. As soon as they find out, people start having strange reactions. They do not even doubt. Besides, why would the Delphine Butler joke? Massimiliano realizes that he is known for his seriousness.

In short, if she hasn't done anything to you so far. What do you want her to do now?

Massimiliano sighs. It is useless to reason with those who rarely see witches, idealizing them. They fear them. He sees them every day. He serves them tea, carries their trays, cleans their rooms, listens to their confessions, and obeys. He always obeys, taking a small margin of personal freedom.

The butler looks back at the Witch, busy touching and moving more precious flowers. Today, obedience involves acting as a pastime while ordering the necessary things for the upcoming engagement party.

We thank the Third Witch that at least in Ampra, nothing happened like in Eggrio.

“Okay… okay, well then…” the flower girl started talking again. She stares into space in fear. “I can give you 10,000 discounts for the Noble Wall Witch.”

“Ho, call me Cinzia,” the Witch says casually.

“Do not call her Cinzia. It is a joke.”

The flower girl nods for a long time. Massimiliano places the checkbook on the counter. He takes a pen without asking permission and writes the agreed amount. He would like to give a little extra for his trouble, but the money is not his, and he knows how greedy his lady is.

Having torn up the check, the butler hands it to the flower girl. She takes it.

“I will give you 12,000 as agreed. But do yourself a favor. The low-class witches—”

“Hey, I'm a very important Witch.”

“Forgive me, Your Holiness, I was not talking about you. It is a more general discussion. I was saying. You do not have to fear low-rank witches. As long as you do not break the law, they cannot do anything. Least of all, make you change the price list.”

“HEY! Weren't you making a general discussion!?”

Massimiliano turns towards the Witch, standing to block the exit.

“Come on, Your Holiness, we have other destinations today.”

“Of course, you were unpleasant.”

“I simply do not tolerate the Delphine name associated with certain malpractices, Your Holiness.”

The Witch makes a noise. They are walking through the busy city streets towards their next destination. It is an annoying job that could assigned to a new hire like Camelia. Unfortunately, all the servants are busy with preparations, while Massimiliano has—inexplicably—been short of work.

So, here he is, wandering around the city doing orders. Looking at the Witch, he has doubts that, in reality, it was her hand. It is one of her usual little pranks, perhaps out of boredom or to spend time in company.

“Your Holiness, have you finished preparing the barrier?”

Massimiliano knows well that the Witch does not appreciate anyone questioning her professionalism. Yet, the question came spontaneously from his lips.

“Uh, yeah…”

Sullenly, the Witch tugs at the brim of her hat.

“Forgive me, Your Holiness, but this tone—does not something satisfy you?”

“Yeah, but the barrier has nothing to do with it.”

“No?”

“Massimiliano, listen... do you ever feel alone? Or are you dissatisfied with something you can't define? A kind of lack here.” The Witch points to her breast, clearly mistaking the position of her heart.

Massimiliano lingers for a few moments, unsure what to do. Undecided whether to look up, look away, or pretend not to have heard.

An inviting vanilla scent comes from the Witch. Maybe it is the flowers' fault? Of train and city fumes? Why is noting it now?

“I… I do not know. I am well-liked in the palace. I have my duties. A good servant is never alone. If he feels any shortcoming, he fixes it.”

The Witch looks at him pleadingly, taking his hand in hers. Her thin and soft fingers intertwine in an instant.

“I don't say those types of shortcomings. I'm talking about something else. Here... when the flower girl indicated that…”

The Witch stands on tiptoe, bringing her lips close to those of her butler.

Massimiliano cannot believe what is happening. It is not his ideal dream, but it is still a reasonable compromise. Far more than a commoner could hope to achieve. His parents would be proud of him, finally close to rising in estates.

His heartbeat quickened. The lips touch, and it feels warm. He feels Cinzia hug, and he hugs her back.

Satisfied, he now understands what the Witch meant just before, perhaps…

The Witch breaks away from her kiss, looking at him smiling.

“Oops! I'm already married, if I'm not mistaken. You hoped for it, huh? Ho, poor unfortunate and lonely servant.” The Witch does not leave her embrace, which is now cold and deeply humiliating.

“No. I. No. Your Holiness, that is…”

“Don't worry, you get scared easily. I won't say anything, I won't say anything. Marquis Fantini—he doesn't have much interest in me, do you know what I mean?”

Massimiliano hears without listening. He would project himself directly onto the evil star and disappear from Ialtia.

The Witch leaves the embrace.

“Anyway, my name is Cinzia. We have known each other for years. Sadly, no one knows. Of course, Delphine knows this, but the etiquette dictates these stupid titles. However, from today, you can visit me. When you are on break, of course.”

Regaining his composure, the butler checks on the people passing by. Luckily, they are in the shade of a plant on the side of the road, and no one seems to notice them. Why should they? Cinzia does not show off the aegis. She might seem like a wealthy young woman having an affair with the butler…

…she's teasing me. Adultery has no consequences for a Witch, but it could have penalties for me. On the other hand, if I crossed her… she could speak badly of me to the Third Witch, it could make me lose my job, and my dreams of social ascent would vanish. I don't know if I can do it. Ho, this is an unpleasant situation. What should I do? Help!

Suddenly, an absolute calm pervades the young man. Everything becomes clear and rational.

“Hey, you just cost me three lire.”

“Desolate, Your Holiness. I lost control. I do not want to upset you, but I do not think that is the case. Starting a secret relationship could harm my position.”

“Hm, I never asked for it to be secret. And then I want a certain kind of company. The gendarmes are too big, and many servants are too old.”

“But your husband, Your Holiness?”

“Secret.”

With his ideas still confused. With the remnants of a good smell on his lips, Massimiliano has work to finish.

The rest of the morning goes smoothly. Massimiliano has purchased and booked everything necessary, writing checks for over 12,000,000 lire.

“Today is a day of celebration in Ampra.”

“I do not believe.”

“They earned more from your purchases than from—”

The start of the argument stops, and a procession of people in worn work overalls. Ex-workers conclude Massimiliano by observing the bandages or mutilation stumps.

The sight disturbs him. The procession proceeds silently, without posters, without demands. It is a ghost that brings silence, a veil that spreads over shops and passers-by.

The sight of the dirty bandages makes Massimiliano think of the Praetor-Duke. The man is fine, and that evil creature of his son just missed a vital point.

“What did your parents do?”

The Witch watches the procession go away, and Massimiliano understands this from the direction of her head despite the hat covering her face.

“Nothing you might like to hear.”

“If you don't tell me, how can you say it?”

“I am quite different from the former Prince. Is not this enough to understand my origins?”

“Hmm, no. Do you think I've been like this since birth?”

“Heir of gentry, I imagine.”

Cinzia looks Massimiliano up and down with disdain.

“Statistical inheritance. I grew up in a witch orphanage. Thanks to my skills, I climbed the ranks. I earned the role of Wall Witch among a deck of sixteen-sixteenth nobles, and I obtained the title of marquis by marrying one of their protégés. End.”

“Sorry, I did not mean to be arrogant, Your Holiness.”

“Well, that's what you were. Arrogant and presumptuous, not too different from the little prince, in this sense?”

With folded arms, the Witch advances on the butler.

He, compared to Crisante. It burns. The worst is that it was Massimiliano himself who introduced the comparison, thinking he was safe.

“Anyway, you're right,” the Witch stops. “I don't care about your parents. Look, there's something I have to do when I get back. Would you like to help me?”

“Within the limits of my obligations, I will certainly be—”

“Don't worry. I have placed orders so no one will turn to you. You are at my disposal until Your Holiness calls you back.”

“Ho…”

“Don't get too excited, please.”

“Desolate, what help can I give you?”

Cinzia smiles and shrugs.

“Nothing serious, but I heard from the Herbalist Witch that you explored the labyrinth.”

“I confirm. I found the open sanctuary and the auction.”

“Well, it's decided! We will do a more thorough search together.”

The cicadas, the scorching sun, the heat... a lack of the labyrinth is the absence of shadows. Massimiliano and Cinzia reach the center, where the sanctuary stands. The gate has been closed, but the butler has the key to open it.

“After you, Your Holiness.”

The cute witch enters first.

The sanctuary, the mausoleum of the Delphine witches, is a thin and slender structure. It is a tower supported by eight arches with buttresses. A central rose window on each facade depicts the family's dolphin-dragon.

The door, which only opens during family funerals, leads to the underground catacombs.

“My theory,” Cinzia places a hand on the wall, “is: when the spell was cast, it wasn't just bizarre clothes that appeared.”

In the shadow of a buttress, Massimiliano thinks back to what was said in those days. Rumors from the palace, but accompanied by dramatic facts. The poisoning inexplicably forgiven. Crisante that he stabbed his father and fled. The Eggrio rioters seem to have put a Witch like Priscilla in check. And those clothes.

It is absurdly shaped clothes, made of particular materials. It is not silks, fabrics, or velvets. It is more like rubber, according to the Herbalist Witch.

Their absurd uselessness is the final straw. And it is not imbued with magic.

Massimiliano shakes his head.

“We all suspect it, Your Holiness. Who could bother to pull such an expensive prank? Furthermore, the Second Witch is the number one suspect.”

“But the Second Witch rarely plays pranks. The few times you see her around, she is absorbed, as if in a trance.”

“Your Holiness, I would like you to speak more clearly. What do you suspect?”

The Witch turns, heading towards the sanctuary door.

“Do you know that witch sanctuaries are mint coveted by demons? They are full of magic and arise on ancient crossroads.”

“Of course, these are well-known things.”

“Well, at this point, I ask you: what is the best way to get around a barrier?”

“Attack it from the inside with someone who can get through it.”

“Exactly. I think the clothes were a diversion or a coincidence. It can happen. The real purpose was to allow a demon to come among us.”

Massimiliano has a shiver, but he manages to maintain his apparent imperturbability.

“In any case, Your Holiness. No demon passed. Two days, and still no sign? I guess it was a failure.”

“I agree about failure. But I do not with the fact that no demon has arrived. You said you found the sanctuary open, right?”

The little witch opens the door. The stone staircase spirals underground.

“What I think is that some demon has entered. It is insignificant as a threat to the palace, but it could be a problem if it attacked people in nearby villages. Hasn't a zealous man like you thought of this?”

The smile that Cinzia gives to Massimiliano is enough to silence him. The butler thinks of some counterarguments, but the witch is right.

“Shall we go down?”

“A demon passed through here.”

Cinzia is sure. She observes a crack in the wall, but Massimiliano notices nothing but squared stones.

“You see, Max, this is where space has been warped. It was a moment, and, from this close, I can notice it.”

“Your Holiness, and is it a little demon?” Massimiliano pretends not to have heard the nickname, banned by etiquette.

“Of course, the traces of its passage are barely perceptible. It went badly for the author of the joke. 10,000,000,000 wasted.”

“And it could not… no, it would not make sense. Would it be foolish to suggest that, with all the money Coralla has, the President did not want to play a joke? I mean, 10,000,000,000 is nothing to her.”

Cinzia began to manipulate the hat in her hands. Her pink hair falls to her shoulders, adorning her thoughtful face.

“No one would waste that money, least of all the President.”

“Are you sure, Your Holiness? Spending almost a million lire on flowers, I do not think—”

“Ho-ho, is anyone here losing their manners?”

Massimiliano sighs. Around him, there are only stone sarcophagi. Simple, silent. The only embellishment is the dolphin-dragon, accompanied by dates and names of the deceased.

Only now does the butler realize that there is no gold down there. Gemstones and other metals, yes. But not gold. Of course, the dead cannot do anything with gold, but witches can.

“Because of the legend, right Your Holiness?”

Cinzia nods, rearranging her hat on her head.

“Correct! And it's not a legend. It's a historical fact.”

“Not documented.”

“But it remains so.”

Massimiliano thinks back to that story. In the era of knights and magicians, magic was nothing more than superstition. But, with superstition, the magicians built religions, which the knights transformed into kingdoms. Witches were merely village rabble, often poorly educated. They were improvised healers, charlatans, and tricksters. Some were daughters of cultured people who tried to emulate schismatics and heretics of even earlier times.

The ancestor of all the Presidents of the Empire and the Regents of the Kingdoms before the birth of the Empire was Coralla. An astrologer, she was sentenced to death for a bad omen to the knight who governed the region. The sentence would have been carried out by the knight if…

“Max, shall we go? I'm done. If you want, you can come up to me and…”