Dave finished the last bite of his giant-snail prepped salmon sandwich. Despite the delicious breakfast, a shadow seemed to cross his face as he stared at the sandwich-filled plate before him.

Cedez, noticing his frown, tilted her head curiously. "Hey, why the long face? Did the salmon offend your delicate palate?"

Dave sighed, his eyes meeting hers. "It's not the food. I... I can see the Felislice infection in my Stats now. It popped up when I went up to Level Five."

Cedez's ears drooped slightly, her playful expression softening. She reached out, her gloved hand gently patting Dave's arm. "Hey, don't worry about it. Remy will fix you up. She's a whiz with that kind of stuff. Also, congrats on the number increase.”

"How did you know so much about Remicra?" Dave asked.

"Saw her in a dream," Cedez replied quickly, snacking on a caper.

"A Foresight dream, like the vision of Healers Hall you sent me on?”

"Nowhere as clear," Cedez shrugged. "It was a veeeeery long dream that I had almost ten years ago. We did many great and terrible things in it... Several lifetimes of things."

"We? Lifetimes?"

"You, me, Remy and the others," the foxgirl commented. "Look, I don't remember most of it, so stop pestering me about it. Just get Remy on board, she'll make things better… I think.”

“You think?”

“It all worked out in my dream, okay? It’s not my fault that the current reality has all of these… complications and horrible twists to it!”

"Yeah," Dave sighed. "Remicra's lighthouse is being watched by a Custodix Kitlix now with a timer of thirty minutes per customer. I can't just waltz in there and ask her to perform some complicated magical surgery on me. Surgeries, if Garret is to be believed.”

"Hrmm," Cedez pursed her dark lips. "This definitely wasn't in my dream."

"Yeah, and even though I made some money recently, I doubt it's enough to afford a specific Kitlix for Remicra to use. Those things aren't exactly cheap, you know? Plus, she won't tell me her level on the account that she doesn't trust me. How am I supposed to bring her a specific metal-controlling Kitlix?"

“I’d let you borrow cash, if I had any,” Cedez commented with a sigh.

“Don’t you own a cafe or something?” Dave asked.

“Murdoc owns the cafe on the account that banking Kitlix can see him. Also, I’m spending all of my earnings on myself, so that I don’t decay away into a murderous blob,” Cedez waved a hand across her blue gemstone encrusted outfit. “Purified mana gems aren’t cheap and they don’t last forever. I’m a high maintenance gal.”

Murdoc, who had been quietly sipping his tea, set his cup down with a soft clink. "Perhaps," he said, "you're approaching this problem from the wrong angle."

Dave turned to the old wizard. "What do you mean?"

"You're a necromancer, are you not?" Murdoc asked.

"Not exactly, but what are you suggesting?"

"Archmage Kells shifted his magic skills around to fool wards. It's how he constantly bamboozled the City Watch, confounding Scrutimancers," Mordoc explained. "Perhaps you can learn to do the same? Simply present a different soul configuration to the Custodix every thirty minutes? Kitlix don't exactly see people, they see... our Auras, the immutable pattern of our souls."

Dave's eyes widened as Murdoc's words sank in. The simplicity of the solution struck him like a mountain avalanche, leaving him momentarily speechless.

"That's... that's brilliant!" he stated. "Why didn't I even think of that?"

Cedez snickered. "Because you're too busy with stabbing princesses, darling. Sometimes, the simplest solution is the best one."

Dave turned to Murdoc. "You’re certain? I could trick the Custodix by simply altering my Attributes?"

"Aye," Murdoc nodded. "People can’t move their Attributes around, this is why everyone trusts Custodix-enforced security measures and why the Watch fears Necromancers.”

Dave relaxed. He grabbed another sandwich from the plate, chewing it.

Cedez sent Murdoc a thumbs up, which the old wizard acknowledged with a nod.

“Okay,” Dave contemplated, glancing at Cedez. “That's one problem down. Now I have to figure out how to amplify Remicra's Metallomancy.”

“Don't look at me,” Cedez said. “Remy can't escape her tower, I wouldn't want to have them target her if I offer her a handshake.”

“What did Remicra do in this dream of yours?” Dave asked.

“Forge armor,” Cedez shrugged.

“Uh-huh,” Dave pursed his lips. He turned to the old mage. "Murdoc, you seem to know a lot about magic. How exactly are the Kitlix made? Is there any way to create one without spending hundreds in silver?"

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The old wizard stroked his white beard thoughtfully. "Kitlix are born from magic tools. Wickx, for example.” Murdoc pet his familiar. “Was born from an old snail-shepherding staff which I left overnight on a windowsill.”

“You were able to bind her to yourself?” Dave asked.

“Nah,” Murdoc shook his head. “Had a binder friend of mine handle the familiar connection for a discount. You can tell when a magic tool is ready to become a Kitlix, so I had her on Voicecast waiting. I was able to keep Wickx from scampering off as I surrounded the staff in a ring of mana crystals. She munched on them till Lady Ocatha showed up.”

“Could you refer me to this binder?” Dave asked.

“Ocatha was older than me,” Murdoc replied, taking another sip of his tea. “She died six winters ago when her stomach burst. Sadly, many of my trusted friends are gone now. I’m mostly clinging on because I worry that without me this precocious little scamp will stray off the path of goodness.”

“Oi,” Cedez huffed. “I can totally handle myself, thank you very much.”

“Tell that to someone who doesn’t know ya,” Murdoc commented, gray-steel eyes pinning the dark fox to the couch.

Cedez made an imperious ‘harrumph why I never’ expression and then burst into rushing giggles. "Okay, okay, granpaw, you're right. I'm doomed without you and Bessie."

“How do you make sure that she doesn't, um, stray?” Dave asked.

“I make sure that she doesn’t shake hands with every fool who stumbles out of the wilds,” Murdoc said with a look that implied things. “Because this makes her more visible to her far less sane… cousins. Stellaris had pretty much forgotten all about us till Ceddy gave you a handshake to save your life.”

Dave gulped. “Didn’t Stellaris hire an assassin?” He asked.

“That was nine years ago, all because I shook Ceddy’s hand to find Bessie,” Murdoc replied. “Things had considerably calmed since then… until you showed up.”

"So, um,” Dave said, trying to redirect the conversation away from him being the source of the old man’s worries. “Murdoc, how did you make your Snailmancy staff in the first place?"

“Crafting a magical tool requires very specific materials,” Murdoc began. “In my case, it was a wood that matched my affinity - willow, as it happens. But not just any willow, mind you. It had to be from a Mystic Willow tree that grows in a dungeon.”

Dave nodded.

"But the wood aligned to a person alone isn't enough," Murdoc continued. "The real magic comes from crystallized mana. My Darra was part of an adventurer team that specialized in dungeon delving. They brought back all sorts of treasures, including mana crystals."

The old man's voice trembled slightly as he spoke of his late fiancée. "Darra knew how much I wanted to advance my Snailmancy. So on one of her expeditions, she made it a point to bring back the brightest and biggest mana crystal she could find. It took me months of focus to convert the dungeon mana into a Snailmancy-aligned crystal that I could use myself, growing it in the heart of the wooden staff inch by inch. I used the staff for about seven years until the wood became filled with crystalline fissures splintering it. When it cracked completely, Wickx was born from it. I was level thirty six back then and Wickx had just as many levels when she emerged from what remained of my staff.”

“Damn it,” Dave said. “I was hoping for something quicker. I definitely don’t have seven years to make Remicra use a magic hammer or whatever.”

Murdoc shrugged.

"There's got to be another way," Dave muttered, more to himself than to the others. He turned to Murdoc again. "Is there any way to... I don't know, speed up the process? Or maybe create a temporary magical tool?"

Murdoc stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Magic isn't something to be rushed. But..." he paused, his eyes distant as if recalling something. "There are tales of ancient artifacts that could amplify a person's magical abilities. Relics from a bygone era, most of them lost to time or locked away in the magisteel vaults of the High Lords."

"Like what?"

"Oh, all sorts," Murdoc waved a hand. "Rings, amulets, even weapons. But they're rare, since most old artefacts just turn into Kitlix upon frequent use. There’s no way that we could get access to such without robbing some old family’s vault.”

Dave nodded.

"What about the gems from Stellaris's dress?" he asked. "Could those be used somehow?"

“Those are mana gems aligned to her Shadowmancy,” Cedez said.

“What is your plan for the dress?” Dave asked.

“Ehhh,” Cedez winced. “I’m not touching it, in case the gems still have… any of Stelly's personality in it.”

“That dress is incredibly dangerous if it still contains Stellaris in it,” Murdoc said. “I worry that it will bring her back in the morning. I was planning to have Bessie fry it with lightning outside of town this evening, reducing all of those gems to ashes. Best to take no chances.”

Dave slotted everything into Wisdom and pushed it all into Sherlock, his mind expanding as he focused intently on the vial of dark fluid standing on the table in front of him. The world around him seemed to fade away as he concentrated, the violin in his soul playing a melody of analytical deduction.

The futuristic office of the detective overlapped itself over Dave's vision halfway.

"Consider the evidence: Cedez can amplify others' magic through physical contact, yet the shadow substance does nothing outside her body," Sherlock reasoned, steepling his fingers. "This suggests an internal process, much like how an engine converts fuel into energy."

"So if we could find a way to 'burn' this fuel outside of her body, we might be able to create a similar all-amplification effect," Dave replied.

Sherlock's deductions continued. "The gems in their dresses act as anchors, storing memories and possibly stabilizing their forms. What if the gems also act as a sort of... carburetor for this dark fuel? A way to regulate and channel its power?"

Dave's gaze darted between the vial and Cedez's gem-studded outfit. "If we could create a device that mimics this process using the dress and the knowledge of Stellaris in my head - we might be able to generate a temporary amplification effect," he theorized aloud.

Murdoc looked at Dave. The old wizard leaned towards Cedez with a look of concern.

Cedez waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, don't mind him. He's just chatting with his ghost bestie. It's a Necromancer thing, you know. Didn’t Archmage Kells have ghost minions?”

“No,” Murdoc said. “Kells had zombies. He didn’t talk to himself like a crazy person, at least not around me.”

Dave snapped out of his trance-like state, blinking rapidly as he refocused on Murdoc and Cedez staring at him.

"What?" Dave asked, suddenly self-conscious.

Cedez snorted. "Oh, nothing. We were just admiring your impression of a possessed ventriloquist dummy. Very convincing, by the way. I especially liked the part where you started debating yourself."

Dave's face flushed red. "Did I say that out loud?"

"Uh-huh," Cedez nodded. "Interesting plan by the way. Also, why not attempt to amplify yourself in the wilds using the vial somewhere far away from the city? Maybe this way, the act won't attract them."

“Fair enough,” Dave said.

“Shall we head to the pub then to steal the rest of Stelly's shinies?” Cedez asked.

“Yes,” Dave said, getting off the couch.