Ice clinked around the glass as Io set down the finest cognac he’d tasted in over a thousand years. In his other hand were papers taken from the top drawer of the Silver Witch’s desk. To her credit, he actually had to destroy the lock to get it open. This was originally something he wanted to avoid, but on second thought Io absolutely wanted her to know someone dropped by.

  That was why he also broke the lock on the second drawer down—which was admittedly harder to do. The first was full of boring documents about personnel distribution and material locations. The latter ,however, he did hang on to.

  Io took another sip and chuckled to himself.

  “Oh, the strategy just writes itself.” This would become a red herring for her to trouble herself over. Io was interested in acquiring large quantities of materials, but it was incredibly low on his priority list. From the Silver Witch’s perspective, however, it may be quite troubling if the only thing missing was the locations of all of Earth Vein’s hidden storehouses. “Now let’s see what you have next.”

  Io would merely make copies of anything else that interested him.

  “Eugenics, huh?” Io could not help but commend her for the simple fact that she bred witches without the use of mana or soul manipulation, but it was still concerning to see. Almost sickening in the way that she manipulated people into finding each other with such efficiency and actually produced results. While this was fine and dandy, there was one more drawer to peruse. This one actually caused sweat to bead on his forehead. “Just who the hell is this woman?”

  The entire drawer was made of orichalcum while the lock was comprised of interlaced adamant and dragonite. While orichalcum was the better metal in a general sense, dragonite was incomprehensibly rare. The fact that she possessed even a few ounces of it was remarkable, but to the seasoned sorcerer, not so much.

  Now if the entire drawer was made of dragonite, Io would be worried that this woman was far more powerful than Cira gave her credit for—not that it would have been a stronger box. The key difference here was that someone who produced their own dragonite would have significantly more than a single lock-mechanism’s worth.

  That said, Io still suspected this woman had to be a prolific witch the likes of which she hadn’t even considered. No portraits of her likeness adorned the walls of this office, but there were countless artifacts strewn about. Hell, the entire room was lit by flames which could nearly be considered miniature mana wells. There was a table with a pitcher of water which never got cold, and its tablecloth was crafted from a leather which belonged to a creature Io knew as severely endangered in his time.

  Of course, the optimistic way to think was that the sea bison made its way back from extinction, but Io did not quite believe that.

  The sea bison was a genetically problematic species. It was as if they tried to evolve wings, but they liked fish so much they came out as fins. Naturally, those appendages did not work very well considering such a severe weight ratio. Io had not possibly been dead long enough for those kinks to be worked out, so it was safe to say her acquisition of such materials implied one of two things:

  Either the Silver Witch was almost as old as him, or she had gotten lucky at auction. A quick life/death appraisal told him the creature died roughly nine-hundred years ago, but that did not tell him much. Given the dragonite, he was inclined to believe it was yet another thing this witch purchased.

  Let’s see… Can you truly impress me, witch? First of all, there was no treasury, secret compartment, or hidden treasures in this place. Anything of import was designated between these three drawers. The last lock was enough to confirm as much.

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “My, my…” Io finished his glass and refilled it with the Silver Witch’s remaining stock, “Whatever is ‘Project Boreal’?”

  ___

  “Madam Silver,” I finally landed at the old lighthouse island between the witch and some strange golden prism. “I have to ask you do not take rash actions.”

  “And what is your definition of rash?” As a regulator, it was my job to know about the prominent figures within the Gandeux Skies, and this woman had not followed up on an appointment this quickly in over a hundred years. Of course, there was the possibility that she exercised such swiftness in secret, perhaps in the night, but it hardly did anything to defend her in this context. “Have we not been sailing for weeks?”

  “And each day the anticipation swallows you whole.” She narrowed her eyes, but I wasn’t finished, “Do not think that you are fooling me. Just what is it you hope to find on this island?”

  It was a rather lackluster one. From what I understood, it was crumbling, and Earth Vein used that chance to harvest the materials. For whatever reason, certainly not one made public, this island was no longer falling. It still held menial degrees of flora, but it was literally on the list of islands to consider ‘dead’ within the next ten years. Ruin eaters couldn’t be much further out from what I’ve read.

  Another concern, this island was nothing like the map I studied on the way. For one, it was smaller, but the lighthouse was in the same place. I wasn’t sure whether to pin it on amateur cartographers or the Silver Witch.

  “Do not stand before me, Regulator.” Her expression grew cold and for the first time since the start of our journey, a tingle of fear ran up my spine. “Step aside.”

  “You don’t know what this is.” I still stepped out of the path of her cast, “This requires an investigation. We need to report—”

  “Perhaps you don’t know what this is, but there is little mystery in my eyes.” The Silver Witch walked right past me. “This is an effigy of the island itself. If I’m not mistaken… Its name is Lazulei.”

  When I turned around, she wasn’t even looking at me. Her attention was drawn to the strange artifact in the center of this island.

  “This construct is rather recent.” The witch ran her hand along it, “An obvious trap.”

  “All the more reason to return!” I tried to level with her, but she wasn’t having it.

  “The enchantments were intended to grant me considerable control over all other earth but strip me of my authority over silver forevermore.” Contrary to everything she just said, the Silver Witch laughed as her hand sank into the block of golden metal. “The Hidden Witch indeed practices primordial law. What a marvelous find.”

  I was pretty sure she meant ‘primordial curses’, as I could feel a sinister pressure emanating from the artifact from here. The way it scuttled under my skin like innumerable bugs just too small to see was insidious to the degree I acquiescently realized those authors weren’t exaggerating. Under its influence, her smile was something I would only remember in bad dreams.

  “Madam Silver, step away.” Her expression faded and was replaced with one of contempt. “It’s… It’s far too dangerous. We need to bring the Mages’ Inquisition into this.”

  “Nonsense.” I could feel the island shake as her laughter only grew in spite of my concerns. Silver mana started to roll in like a fog. “They wouldn’t know what to make of this. I, on the other hand, shall take what I came here for, as per my invitation, and be on my way.”

  She started to step into the block of enchanted gold and an artifact at her waist flashed, “Madam Silver—”

  Before she disappeared, I noticed an uncharacteristic look of surprise.

  ___

  “Where are you, you bastard?!” The royal man cried, craning his neck around to the empty room like a paranoid madman.

  “I’m. right here.” He stared into my many eyes and seemed to make a realization I could have swore he just made.

  “Is… the spider truly talking?” His fist froze upon the door and his whole life seemed to reflect in his own meager two eyes. “What kind of witchcraft is this?”

  “No witchcraft, I assure you.” I gave him my spider god voice, with a tinge of comforting acceptance. “Please, have a seat.”

  To drive my point home, I tickled his soul just a tad and the reaction on this man’s face told me it was a feeling he was unfamiliar with. This was my bread and butter.

  “What do you want?” A moment of clarity was apparent on his face as he sat not on the bed, but the opposing credenza. Perhaps it was his royal pedigree or his fight or flight ending in acceptance, but when the chips were down, this middle-aged man was surprisingly stolid, “If you’re after power of status, I promise you have come to the wrong place.”

  “Don’t worry, dear Reginald,” I let his fear steep in my aethereal giggles, “That is precisely why I have come. Do you have a moment to speak about my good friend the Saint of the Seven Suns?”