Repeatedly and skilfully, Madame Guillardine's thumb led the blade of her pocket knife through the wood of the small sculpture she was working on. It was only partially done, making it difficult, together with its puny size and the witch's hands being in the way, to see exactly what it was supposed to represent.

Clelia sat on the sofa across from her, and Damian was right by her left side. The fairy deliberately hid her scowl from him with her left hand.

"Hmm. Sounds like you two had a very eventful night," Madame began. "Why did you think to come to me, though? I'm sorry for what is happening to your mutual friend, but I'm nothing more than the widow next door, how do you two expect me to be capable of providing help?"

"Madame, stop selling yourself short," the fairy pleaded, trying her best to keep her frustration inside. "You're knowledgeable and smart, and you've been nothing but helpful since I got here. Is there really nothing you can do to…"

"Clelia, dear," Damian gently interrupted her. "It's very late, we shouldn't be bothering Madame like this with our problems. We need to take a good night sleep and then, tomorrow, we can figure out something by ourselves, alright? I'm sure that I could find a way to pay for a decent attorney for…"

When she suddenly turned to face him, he stopped and backed up a little. "I know that I'm unfamiliar with how humans deal with this kind of stuff, but I don't think that that's going to be a solution. I have a feeling that, if we allow Rosalba's case to go to court, she's essentially going to be doomed."

"There's no way to know what the outcome would be," he retorted, his tone a bit shaky, holding his hands in front of him as if to suggest her to calm down. "Besides, if aunt Lucia has already pressed charges, there is no legal way to avoid this going to court. All we can do is find a way to help her through the process, and maybe someone who could represent her."

"Oh, what a cushy and convenient way to face the issue," she hissed. "I'm sure you'll be able to sleep comfortably, knowing we did everything we could, by just dumping the problem on someone else."

His voice got lower and steadier, his eyes more serious. "Clelia, that's uncalled for. I've been her friend for much longer than you, I care for her and I truly want to help. I'm just trying to find a way that isn't reckless and irresponsible."

"You two, quiet!" Madame's voice harshly stopped the fairy before she could even open her mouth to respond.

"That was uncharacteristically cruel of you to say, Clelia," Madame admonished her. "I understand you have to be quite distraught to have your first marital spat in front of your neighbour, but that doesn't give you the right to put into question your husband's good will. Have you two been at each other's throat throughout the entire way back?"

They didn't respond. Clelia wasn't entirely sure at which point, during their carriage and train ride back, they shifted from both being upset at the same thing to being upset at each other.

The woman sighed. "Do you even know what charges your friend will be facing?"

Damian responded, "I think she's been accused of stealing three golden Cunias. I'm not sure if there are other charges at the moment, but that's the one I'm aware of."

Madame flinched. "That's a hefty sum, for someone like her. I can see why that would cause some issues. And do you think she's guilty?"

He awkwardly averted his eyes. That gesture, for some reason, made Clelia angry at him again, but something else bothered her way more than that. Three golden Cunias. Something in that sum felt worryingly familiar to Clelia.

Deliberately looking away from her husband, Clelia tried reasoning. "I know that she has stolen food before, but I offered her to give her some in exchange for the help she's given me, were she to need it again. Apparently, they don't feed her regularly, at the farm. I haven't known her for long, but I don't think she'd steal if she thought she had a choice. How much food can you buy with the sum she's accused of stealing?"

Focusing back on her carving, Madame calmly answered, "You can comfortably feed a family for a few weeks with that. The good stuff too, not some cheap scraps thrown together. Most people don't even see golden Cunias very often: the common folks generally use the much less valuable silver pieces for everyday normal needs."

"Where did she even take those, then?" Clelia fretted. "I know she wouldn't steal food from the farms, knowing they keep track of it, so I think that, if those coins are as valuable as you're saying, they'd keep track of those too. Because of that, I don't think she'd steal that sum from the farm. Are there many houses in the village with that kind of money laying around?"

"Well, ours for starters," Damian replied. "That doesn't answer the question, though, because, to my knowledge, we're not missing money. Then, there's my family. As far as I know, they didn't experience thievery of any kind as of recent. Finally, there's a few high ranking employees in the factory, but they'd all raise a serious stink about being stolen from, especially for that much money, and we'd definitely hear about that."

Not knowing where the missing money came from strengthened the eerie sensation of void forming within Clelia's abdomen. Something about the whole thing just didn't feel right. She felt as if she was on the verge of grasping something, something she already knew, that would explain that feeling, but she was unable to get a good grip on that thought.

She glanced at him, catching him do the same, and both turned away in unison. Madame was right, she did go too far in the way she had spoken to him, but recognising that made it that much harder for her to talk to him again.

With a sigh, she resolved to at least try and bridge that cold stream running in between them. "How confident are you that, if we find someone to represent her in court, we'll get her out of trouble?"

He flatly answered, "We can do our best, but there is no guarantee. Especially if we don't know all the facts yet."

She shook her head. "That's not good enough. There has to be something more we could do. Guilty or not, all that self-righteous talking aunt Lucia did makes me think she's just been waiting for the right moment to accuse Rosalba of something. Maybe starving her was the point from the very start: they didn't give her food so that she'd become more and more desperate, hoping they could catch her red handed."

He nervously tapped his foot. "While I can't deny there being some logic in what you said, I think that's stretching it a bit. That sounds like a lot of effort to go through just to get rid of one servant girl when she could have just kicked her out at any time."

While putting some finishing touches to her small sculpture, the witch interjected, "Sounds to me like you two don't have a full picture of the situation."

"Full picture or not," Clelia declared, "the way I see it, the only thing that we can do that is guaranteed to save Rosalba from this mess is helping her escape, providing her somewhere to hide too, if necessary."

He turned to face her, shocked. "What? No way, I can't allow that."

"Madame, please, can we drop the charade?" Clelia pleaded. "I want us to speak freely."

Slowly getting on her feet, Madame responded, "There are laws, you know, to prevent magical creatures from doing what they want in human society. What you propose is a crime way worse than the one for which your friend is awaiting judgement. It's not a line of action I can advise or endorse."

She gestured them to follow her. They obeyed, and Madame led them into the entrance of the house, where she touched the beret on the Lararia, at which point the house changed to the version Clelia had already seen before, the one with all kinds of trinkets and amulets occupying the walls and hanging on strings coming down from the ceiling.

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"It's unwise to speak of certain matters without taking precautions, child," Madame explained to Clelia. "I don't think it's very likely that we were being actively spied upon, but tonight in particular it is better to err on the side of caution."

Damian looked around the house, completely stumped by the change in scenery. "Madame Guillardine, what is the meaning of this? And why do you not seem very surprised, Clelia?"

"Allow me to explain," responded the witch. "Don't take it on your wife, she kept my secret because she understood I didn't want too many people to know about me."

"To know about what, exactly?" He queried, warily eyeing the exit door.

The way he was cautious about his surroundings made him look as cute as a lost puppy. She grabbed him by the arm, reassuringly. "Dear, Madame Guillardine is currently acting as my mentor, since no one else in the village can help me with magic."

"She knows magic?"

Madame chuckled. "How unbecoming it would be for a Masca not to know magic."

"Do the Lares in this village even work properly?" Damian burst out. "First the demonic cat, then that hooded creature, now a Masca. Weren't the Lares supposed to guard our homes from such creatures?"

Madame grinned and raised her brows. "Well, let's see what they themselves have to say, shall we?"

She removed the beret from the Lararia and a booming, gravely voice came from one of the low-relief figures engraved in it.

"Can you believe today's youth, Calpurnia? Doubting that we, the Lares, are capable of doing our job! What society is coming to, I swear. When I was young…"

The other figure sighed with exasperation. "Oh, will you stop it with the youth already? You say that every single generation without fail."

Clelia blinked. "I haven't seen them speak since my very first day in the village."

"Well you can't bloody well expect us to be at your beck and call every day, young lady, now can you?" Shouted the man figure.

The woman figure placed one hand on her hip and scolded Clelia with the finger of her other hand. "For once that bloated wineskin of my husband is right. Don't you know how disrespectful it is to question our…

Madame Guillardine interrupted her, placing the beret back on the Lararia "Don't be harsh on her, you two. The only reason why you can even speak outside of the equinoxes is that I give you the energy to do so." She then turned to face Clelia and Damian, who stared with his mouth agape, and explained, "The fumes of the factory weaken the bond of the Lares with the gods of the land, making it harder for them to perform their protective function. That is why I feed them with the power they need."

"So… you're telling me that you're working to protect the village?" Asked Damian.

Clelia nodded. "Yes, she is. When you were assaulted by the Babau, you were rescued by a tiny snake at first, remember? He's the protector serpent of our Lararia and Madame Guillardine is the one who gave him life."

"That… thing was the Babau? Just how much stuff happened to you without my knowledge, while you were here?"

"You're one to talk," she drily replied. "Until just now, you never told me you met the Gatto Mammone."

"I was under no obligation to…"

"Kids," the witch interrupted them once more, "don't start getting upset at each other all over again. Listen to me, I've been married for many years, and both my husband and I were hotheads, especially when we were young. When stuff like this happens, in particular when you don't have an easy target to be mad at, you're looking for a way to discharge all of that frustration, so any number of small things that may not have bothered you otherwise become annoying, and things you genuinely found annoying become unbearable. Your spouse, at that point, becomes the easiest possible target for your frustration. It's a trap, don't fall for it, especially this early into your relationship."

Damian nodded, turning his attention on his wife. "She's right. I apologise, I should have been more sensitive towards your perspective. In my defence, I can only say that I really cannot accept any solution that puts you in danger of ending up like Rosalba or worse."

Clelia grabbed the fabric of her skirt with both hands. She should have been the one apologising first: what she had told him, in the heat of the moment, had been unnecessarily mean spirited and hurtful. "I'm… really sorry as well. I don't know what came over me. I just… I fear that, if we don't take some risk, we can't ensure Rosalba's safety.

He hugged her and she allowed him. "I understand. But, do keep in mind, if we try to get her out of trouble by breaking the law, she will become a fugitive, and we might too, unless somehow we can avoid being identified, which wouldn't be easy. In the long term, this solution only creates more problems, don't you think?"

Eventually, she returned the hug with her left arm. "I understand, but… Rosalba is a servant being accused by her master," Clelia pointed out. "I'm not sure if it's different among humans, but, the way I see it, when appealing to a higher authority, this authority is much more likely to take the side of the master. Moreover, aunt Lucia doesn't strike me as the kind of person to make something like this public unless she's quite sure she's going to win. I think you and I are woefully unprepared to face her in front of a judging authority."

"If we find a good enough lawyer, I'm sure we can turn things around." He declared.

Clelia shook her head. "Do you think your family is more likely to support us rather than aunt Lucia? I wasn't even able to get my eyesight improved without the support of my family, do you think you'll be able to get a lawyer without the support of yours?"

"Er… well, I do have some money saved up, so maybe…"

Madame clapped her hands twice, loudly, and the two of them separated. "Now, while this is a better attitude with which to approach the topic, I don't think you're in any condition to find the answers you're looking for. You're both tired and upset, not to mention you don't even seem to have a clear and complete picture of the problem you're trying to solve. You don't know the charges that your friend is going to face, for one, and everything you told me suggests that, on your aunt's part, there is much more to this whole situation than meets the eye. You two should get to the bottom of things before you start forming a plan and, seeing the state you're both in right now, sleeping on it wouldn't be a bad idea either."

Damian crossed his arms "That doesn't sound like a bad idea to me."

"I agree," Clelia seconded. "Forming a plan right now, when we know so little of what we're about to face, is probably useless, since the plan is definitely going to need to be changed, when we find out more information."

Madame smiled "I'm glad to see you two are willing to think it over and find a compromise. Now, next on tonight's program, I have to warn you that I won't be able to help you directly in this matter. Not only I wish to keep my being a Masca a secret from the State, I'm afraid I'll be out of town for a while."

"What? Why? What about our training?"

Madame blew on the tiny wooden sculpture, still in her hand, causing a small, dusty cloud of shavings to fall off from it. "Your presence here, child, has a lot of consequences. I need to consult with other Masche in the region about, among other things, how much of my knowledge I am allowed to share with you. We've been sending messages back and forth in the past few days to arrange our meeting, and tomorrow I'll be leaving."

The witch extended the small sculpture to Clelia, who took it without hesitation. Now that it was in her hand, she was able to tell that it was shaped like a magpie.

"You can use that to access the realm we use to train," Madame explained. "We'll be able to meet and talk to each other in there, so we won't have to interrupt our training. And, seeing these latest developments, I will also be able to give you advice while the current crisis evolves, even though I won't be able to intervene directly."

Clelia took the little sculpture to her chest with both hands, as if to protect it. "I'll be taking good care of this, then."

Madame nodded. "I'm sure you will, you're a good student. And, final point in our agenda, I'll need you Clelia… well, now that I think about it perhaps even you, Damian, can help."

"Sure, I'll help if I can. What is this about?"

Madame took the beret from the Lararia once more, causing the Lares to raise their voices again.

"Oh, so the young are no longer the only ones to lack respect!" Barked the male figure.

"Be quiet, Diadumenianus," replied the woman figure.

"What? With what right you're telling me to be quiet, woman?"

"She said she's going to leave for a few days. If you thought anything through longer than a heartbeat, you'd know that she's about to discuss our treatment in her absence."

With a chuckle, Madame nodded. "Right you are, Calpurnia. Since I have been preparing for my leave for a few days already, I have already prepared everything you two will need. All Clelia and Damian will have to do is to come here and 'feed' you every other day, exactly the same as if I was still here."

She took out of her petticoat a small purse and extended it to Clelia. "Inside here you'll find some small crystals. They'll only need one every two days, don't give them more unless I specifically ask you to. You can give one to Horatius every once in a while too, if he's being a good boy."

"Understood," Clelia replied.

"How do you need me to help?" Asked Damian.

"You'll be taking over this task if Clelia can't do it, for whatever reason."

He nodded firmly.

Clelia adjusted her glasses. "So, um… for how long will you be away?"

Madame shrugged. "I'm afraid I can't be sure. A few days if everything goes uncharacteristically smooth, more likely a few weeks. A month or two if something goes really bad. The elders of my kind are quite old, so they have a difference sense of time, compared with the rest of us."

Clelia let go of Damian's arm and hugged the Masca, who didn't immediately reciprocate, clearly surprised. "Thank you for everything you've done, Madame. I hope you come back soon."

The witch hugged her back and warmly replied, "We'll be seeing each other in the other realm soon enough, but I thank you for your regards."

When the two of them were about to leave her home, Madame said, "Make sure to take good care of each other, you two."