Fanning herself with her peacock feather fan, Delphine sits back in the armchair. An armchair more similar to a throne, in perforated red velvet, red silver armrests, and the backrest sculpted with dolphin-dragon motifs.

There are crystal chandeliers and an unlit black marble fireplace in the room. The walls are red, interspersed with marble columns. The marble table itself is so shiny it mirrors Delphine. Behind, an imposing window overlooks the garden immersed in darkness.

Delphine is not used to that luxury nor to the clothes she wears. They are made of expensive materials like silk, in red and black, with gold and silver embroidery, buttons, buckles, and laces.

Although I don't have impressive breasts, they all have a slit on the chest or bare shoulders. The aegis must always be visible. The novel says: Each Witch's emblem instantly frames their social position.

It does not concern humans, but among witches, it is necessary to know who has more rights or wealth than who else.

Sitting in his refined evening coat, the Praetor-Duke drums his fingers on the table. He glances distractedly at Delphine, at two gendarmes in white and the rapiers hanging from their waists. Delphine observes him, comparing him to her Earthly companion.

Judas Delphine is not an ugly man, on the contrary. But he is fading away. She looks tired. In the novel, there is little mention of him. He is a secondary character.

Maybe I should take an interest in him and understand if something is wrong. Could it be ‘useful’ to me later?

In the novel, Delphine cares about nothing other than scheming to take over the Presidency of the Empire's Parliament of Witches. Clea's imminent peasant and worker revolution is the best pretext for her rise to power. That is, until the disease becomes too severe, rendering the powers uncontrollable and turning the Third Witch into a demographic calamity.

Now that I think about it, I should have enormous power. In the next few days, I will have to do some tests to evaluate whether or not I can master them.

The door to the room opens. Massimiliano and Princess Viola-Maria Delphine enter. The young woman sits next to her father, on the opposite side of the table from Delphine.

The girl strokes a cat with a long-fluffy tail.

Elea, if I remember correctly, should be called that.

The Princess keeps her gaze lowered and looks calm. She and her father resemble each other in appearance but not in posture. She is stiff and upright, like a puppet. While the father has a relaxed pose, leaning his back against the back of the chair.

Delphine looks at Massimiliano, who bows.

“Desolate, Your Holiness. The Noble Prince refused to appear.”

Who? Delphine thinks back to the novel. If the Praetor-Duke is insignificant, Crisante is even more. Described as a naughty and spoiled child, he only appears in the scene where he dies of poisoning at the hands of his sister.

Better that he didn't come. After all, he's not the problem.

“It's the same, thank you. I'd say we can get started.”

Before continuing, Delphine takes a few moments to observe her daughter. In the novel, they do not have a terrible relationship on the surface, but not a good one either. Her daughter existed only as an heir. Perhaps that was the Witch's mistake.

Looking at her, the Third Witch feels nothing. She does not feel like her daughter. Her children are at home on earth. They are probably worried and wondering where Mom went.

An answer that Delphine will only be able to provide by going back.

And to go back, I have to survive.

There is no mercy for the deadlines shown in the novel. Viola-Maria seems like a calm, respectful, and well-groomed little girl. But Delphine is sure that she is the poisoner.

I just need to get her to confess tonight in front of witnesses. So, we can prosecute her legally.

The idea of murdering her, although in line with the conduct of a great Witch, disturbs Delphine. She feels the need to reconcile two certain realities that clash: Viola-Maria is a ruthless murderer who wants to take the inheritance ahead of time and at any cost; Viola-Maria is just a child, defrauded in turn by larger schemes that exploited her weaknesses to manipulate her.

There's no point in dragging it out anyway.

“Well. I have called you tonight for a serious reason.”

Pause for effect. Delphine uses those moments to study the faces of Judas and Viola-Maria. The man looks at his wife seriously. On the other hand, the daughter keeps her gaze lowered, dedicated to stroking the cat.

“I was poisoned.”

A buzz breaks out among the gendarmes. Judas opens his eyes wide. Viola-Maria raises her face in horror, putting a hand to her mouth. The cat jumps off her legs, ending up under the table.

“My Holiness,” Judas jumps up, hunching over the table. "Who did it!? When!? Say that the Presidential Prince this afternoon—”

Delphine raises her hand, clicking her tongue.

“Darling, wait. The answer is what I need to talk about.”

Delphine realizes too late that she said ‘darling.’ Etiquette requires that Your Beatitude be called My Blessed by your wife. Like, as Your Holiness becomes My Holiness as her husband.

Luckily, no one noticed.

“Holy Mother, you seem to be doing very well. You are gorgeous as always.”

“Viola-Maria, Viola-Maria dear. Don't cheat anyone. You're the one who poisoned me.”

The incredulous shouting in the room resumes, and Massimiliano intervenes to quiet them. The little girl opens her eyes wide and retracts her neck. She is about to say something, but a voice catches Delphine's attention.

“My Holiness! Our daughter could never commit such monstrosity!”

“My Blessed, listen carefully to what I say.” Delphine takes out the book she came in. There is a red bookmark sticking out. “I have this powerful oracle. It's written. Today, I was poisoned by Viola-Maria. And the oracle cannot be wrong.”

I'm actually not sure. I'd say this is a good test case.

If the novel is reliable, Viola-Maria will confess shortly. She is just a little girl.

“My Holiness, object! Your magic is not that of the magistrate witches. How can you accuse our daughter like this?”

“Holy Mother,” Viola-Maria intervenes in a candid voice. She shows a sweet, worried look. “Why would I ever poison you? I love you, as every daughter should love her mother.”

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“You love my position and my power, don't you?”

“These words hurt me, mom. To hurt you, I would only risk losing the inheritance that is my birthright.”

“Don't act silly. You know well that I have many years to live. The poison you gave me is a particular poison: an ancient weapon designed by humans specifically against witches. I will not die today. Nor tomorrow. But in a year. After a physical and mental decline, a decline that will cause my powers to spread uncontrollably.”

“My Holiness, I cannot listen to you. What stories is this!?” The Praetor-Duke bangs his fist on the table. “What book is that? What would it prove? What Witch wrote that!?”

“A man wrote it.”

Delphine feels the eyes of the whole room on her. She can sense all their disbelief in that silence.

“A man?”

The Praetor-Duke sits down, looking straight ahead.

“Yes,” Delphine turns back to her daughter. “But this is not the point. The book is right. You poisoned me today. That's why I felt bad and got lost in the garden. Massimiliano and Camelia can confirm my finding.”

The Princess blinks quickly, cracking a sweet smile.

“Holy Mother. Now I understand, and I am sorry. There was something bad in your tea, but I assure you. I did not poison it.”

“In a few months, you hope to obtain the will. My death was supposed to feel natural. But I'll give you some news, dear daughter. In a few months, you will be one of the victims of my uncontrolled power.”

The revelation seems to have some effect. The girl's face becomes guarded and hostile. Delphine smiles evilly, waiting for the fateful question to come.

“Holy Mother, will not be offended if I ask for proof of these accusations you make against me? Were not you who taught me to protect myself in this way?”

I haven't taught you anything at all, you naughty little devil.

Delphine thinks about her children. Noisy, often dirty, and not too smart.

But definitely not cold, power-hungry assassins.

The Third Witch lets out a broad smile. She claps her hands while she still holds ‘the oracle.’

“Here's your proof.”

The door to the room opens, and Camelia, accompanied by the herbalist and two gendarmes, enters. The maid has red cheeks and eyes. She looks down as she steps aside.

She probably cried when she found out the truth. The novel doesn't mention it, but it's clear she's my daughter's friend.

Delphine nods to the family's elderly Herbalist Witch, who places an empty vial on the table.

“Holiness Mother, what would you like to say?”

The herbalist walks away, while the Praetor-Duke leans forward, towards the vial.

Delphine looks at the Herbalist Witch with the blackberry-mole aegis on her chest. She steps forward and bows.

“In the vial, I found traces of Stigmata Poison, as indicated by Your Holiness.”

Delphine smiles and raises an eyebrow.

Her daughter became red, expressionless, and petrified.

“And, tell us, where did you find this vial?”

“In the room of the Noble Princess, as you suspected.”

Delphine looks at Camelia, too busy looking at the ground to notice.

“Camelia, do you confirm?”

The maid nods absently.

“I confirm.”

For the third time, shouting of gendarmes breaks out among those present. The Princess's outburst interrupts.

“Lie! Lie! Lie! It's not mine! Not mine! It was the servants. It was the servants who put it in my room. Lie!”

The Princess continues to scream, and Delphine observes the faces of those present. It is hard to understand what they are feeling. Surely, she is getting impatient. It is useless to argue with a child, and the court will take care of the punishment aspect. That's something else she wants to know now.

“Tomorrow, I will go to ask for disavowal. You will lose all titles and your right to live with us.”

“No! You cannot do this! You cannot! Mom, I love you! I love you, and I would never do that! Never!”

Delphine looks up at the ceiling, exasperated.

“If you love me, tell me where you got the poison. The oracle doesn't say it.”

“I did not take any poison. I love you, Mom, I—I—” The girl bursts into tears.

Delphine feels doubt creeping in. Kids are often liars, but that reaction? Seriously, is she judging based on a book? What if she was wrong? Crying is an incorrect move; it puts her in difficulty. She reminds her of her children, always busy with pranks, ready to cry when discovered.

“Look.” Delphine's voice tries to be conciliatory. “I know they deceived you. If you tell me where you got the poison, I promise I will do justice for both of them.”

The daughter stops crying instantly. Her expression returns to mocking.

“Really?”

“Witches keep their word.”

“The Presidential Prince passed it to me. He obtained it from one of his trusted shopkeepers, an alchemist. I believe. M-M… I do not remember the name, but it is in Ampra.”

“Could it be Mirco di Ampra?” The Herbalist Witch intervenes by bowing.

The Princess becomes radiant.

“Yes, him! Mirco of Ampra! He has a shop just outside the city center. I remember visiting it with the Prince in the past.”

Delphine claps her hands and stands up.

“Well, tomorrow, the Archdevil will leave for Mirco's shop. I will go to the court to ask for disavowal.”

General astonishment leads to silence, broken by the Princess's tantrums.

“Mother, you said that—”

“Justice. Yes, I will bring justice to both of them. I said justice, not interest.”

Although in the world of witches, the two coincide with my interest. It went badly for you, brat.

The Princess screams and cries. The Praetor-Duke is about to get up and speak, but with a gesture of her hand, Delphine tells him to stay still. The Witch turns to the guards and Camelia.

“Take her to the room. Until I get back, she won't have to go out. Go.”

Obediently, the gendarmes take the Princess and leave. Camelia bows listlessly and follows them, closing the door behind her.

“Now you can talk.”

“My Holiness, excuse me, but I will keep quiet. I am shocked.”

Delphine nods to her husband and looks at Massimiliano, the only other person left in the room besides the herbalist.

“Your Holiness, if you may. Why send the Archdevil Shield? That individual is better suited to guard the house than—”

“Archdevils are the most loyal. I fear I will not be enough to reach this Mirco if only to find a cure. Right, Herbalist Witch?”

The herbalist nods.

“The poison and the antidote are relics of a distant past. There are few places where both are. It is difficult for a merchant from Ampra to possess them.”

“Also, you heard my daughter. She accused the today's guest: the Presidential Prince.”

That is true, according to the novel. The Prince is a secessionist, an ally of the Seven Countesses of Dalorbami.

Delphine does not say this. Another doubt arose in her mind, observing Viola-Maria's cat still walking around the room.

How long will this novel remain reliable?

Fanning herself, the Third Witch probes the three remaining housemates.

“Archdevil Shield will only return when he has found a cure. He will bring it to me. A normal human would be in danger, and as the Third Witch, I can't afford to wander around looking for a cure. Not now, with the revolution upon us.”

The Praetor-Duke frowns and sighs.

“Revolution?”

Delphine smiles bitterly, knowing what the next few months will bring, illness or not.

“Clea, My Blessed One. Clea, the Wheat Witch.”

The Third Witch's train has a station alongside the palace. It overlooks a private railway line, which connects to the central station of the nearby city of Ampra.

Delphine admires the black locomotive with the painted bas-relief aegis on the chimney. Two sumptuous carriages embellished with metal patterns await her for the journey.

Followed by a group of five gendarmes and Massimiliano, the Witch leaves the platform to climb the step of the carriage. Before letting the guards in, she turns to the butler.

“I want you to prepare a letter for the Presidential Prince. He's about to get engaged to the Princess. Isn't he?”

“So, you had arranged with the First Witch, Your Holiness.”

That's right. The First Witch. The President of the Imperial Parliament, Furnace D. Chimera Coralla.

In the novel, she plays a central role and is President of the Parliament of Witches. As well as the Empire of Ialtia, the First Witch is the archenemy of Clea's revolution.

Delphine is a secondary villain, and maybe that's a good thing. In any case, she only now realizes how much she has to move in the shadows to obtain ‘justice’ concerning the Presidential Prince.

The Witch opens her fan and hears the furnace of the departing train from a few meters away.

“Massimiliano, listen. The whole story must remain secret. Prepare a letter for the Presidential Prince. Tell them that the Princess can't wait to see him again. Soon, we will announce their fiancée. There will be a big party in their honor.”

The butler makes a surprised expression.

“Astute, Your Holiness. In this way, if guilty, he would understand that the plan is going to fruition, and he could ask for external help like he believes that he has the situation in hand.”

“You are a good butler, Massimiliano. I knew it from the first pages.”

Without waiting for a response, Delphine gets on board, followed by the five gendarmerie chosen members and a restless dark guest.