Delphine Inland

It lasted but a blink of an eye. The entire secessionist army was ash, the rebels were ash, the animals and plants were ash, and the continent split in two. The ash rained from the skies for days and days, and the President, now alone, sat admiring it from her high seat in the empty council. A parliament only of memories, with the dome gutted and the seats uprooted.

There was no one left in Ialtia. It is not an insect or a bird. The fish in the surrounding seas were equally unlucky, swallowed up in the chasm, the sea had subsided, and the houses had collapsed. However loved and courageous she was, Clea was unable to perform the miracle. Like everyone else, she disappeared.

President Coralla still had a lot of gold but no longer desired to spend it. So, she decided to go to sea. It is Unknown Blue. She set sail on an ash vessel filled with golden Lira. It was the end of the revolt and its consequences.

Delphine closes the book.

Ho, pitiful ending.

Although she has already been dead for about 200 pages, the Third Witch wanted to peek at what awaits her once she has overcome the obstacle of poison, secessionists, and Clea.

Now she feels troubled, looks at the cover, opens and closes the book, leafing through it superficially.

In the last pages, what was better not to happen happens. The survivors of her mad epidemic, now full of gold and resources, with some witches on their side, raise the flags of open war. Dalorbami's secessionists attack the hinterland, the Delphine Duchy, from the southwest, while the rebels arrive from the east. The aim is simple: to take possession of the 'barn of Ialtia' and force the President into a pitched battle.

Throughout the novel, the President does nothing but laugh and joke. It is like Marie Antoinette, indifferent to the problems of her country. She is confident that the secessionists and rebels will fight each other in the plains. Instead, her people allied themselves, forcing her to intervene.

And that is it. Ash. Out of a billion inhabitants, seven hundred million will be claimed by the disease, and the remaining incinerated in a second.

Damn, author, what a situation. Damn me for not finishing the book in time.

That Mary Sue Clea will kill us all no matter what.

A light knock on the door.

“Your Holiness, Your Holiness.”

Delphine recognizes the voice.

“Ho, Massimiliano. Lately, I thought you were lost. You're often absent, aren't you?”

“Forgive me, Your Holiness. Your Holiness, the Wall Witch requests my services with unusual continuity.”

Delphine places the book on the bed, picks up the fan, and heads for the door. She opens.

The butler bows. Gorgeous as always. He looks slightly tired and has bags under his eyes.

“She keeps you up late?”

“Not only that, Your Holiness. In reality, the preparations for the party... almost everything is ready. The Herbalist Witch has distilled the antidote. It was a fortune that we had traces of the poison and the root. It is a very ancient fossil. Archdevil Shield seems to have gone by chance.”

“Sometimes the case is less random than it seems.”

The butler nods towards the desk.

“Your oracle by chance…”

“No, no. Of course, without a doubt, I would have taken everything lightly. But it speaks of my end, not of the cure. Let's go?”

“I will lead the way, Your Holiness.”

The palace is renovated. They feature rows of exotic plants in the corridors, colorful potted flowers, statues, and crystals. The servants, aided by the gendarmes, used up the property's private warehouses, but millions were spent in preparation for the event. It is all a chaotic coming and going, and Massimiliano precedes with a sure step.

Delphine looks in amazement at those colors embellished by the rays that filter through the windows. The scents mix, and she feels she has ended up in yet another world.

Giggling softly behind her fan, the Third Witch hears the workers' chatter. “Move here…”, “No, no. Eighty-sixth loves the wines of the lower Pial, “Have you heard of the city of Eggrio?” Those countesses take...”, “New lands beyond the Unknown Blue!?”, “They are massing troops in the southwest. They will attack before the rains.”, “You always do it...”

Interesting matters, pieces of speech that complement and broaden his knowledge. A plan Delphine has to deal with rebels, but first, she must wait to solve the ‘family’ problem.

Family.

A few days have passed, yet it is as if years have passed. That word sounds bizarre, distant. What is family up to on earth? She can barely remember faces or names. If she tries, the Third Witch finds the Praetor-Duke, Crisante, and Viola-Maria.

Shattered.

A figure in heavy clothes attracts attention. Archdevil Shield quickly slips away, trying to avoid her.

“Hey, Archdevil.”

However, the humanoid has already disappeared among the branches in a side corridor. Massimiliano stops.

“Your Holiness, leave it alone. He is helping with the jobs, but no one wants his help. He wanders around, grumbling as quarrelsome as ever.”

“I have the impression that he avoids me.”

The butler lets out a smile. A cellist from the orchestra walks by with a horn player behind him, glancing and bowing hastily before disappearing.

“Sometimes, Your Holiness, I struggle to understand your fine humor. Please.”

Delphine would like to reply that she is not joking at all. Archdevil does not appear in the novel, and she does not know what to expect. She put him to the test. He came back as a winner.

Yet I suspect it has something to do with the change in plot.

In the book, Priscilla pretends to be captured, but Clea manages to capture her. It is a bloody battle, won by the Wheat Witch thanks to solid plot armor and a Deus-ex-machina. With her capture, Clea would have gotten her hands on several millions. Useful to finance the next moves.

Instead, Priscilla died.

Delphine follows the butler, but her gaze turns towards the corridor hidden by the plants. Archdevil avoids her to avoid questions, that is for sure.

Pitch-colored and sweet-smelling, the antidote is a glue-like substance.

The Herbalist Witch explains to Delphine that it only cost her 25,500 Lire to make.

“For us herbalists, the rate is advantageous in these cases, but I am sure you could have paid a higher price yourself, Your Holiness.”

Delphine sticks her index finger into the substance, retracting it and bringing it into her mouth. The taste is terrible, and she does not feel any change.

“Definitely, anticlimactic.”

“Excuse me, Holiness?” The Herbalist Witch furrows her wrinkled brow.

“Nothing, nothing. A term from narratology. A guy from the marketing department always repeated it. Ho, don't make those faces. I'm kidding you.”

The Witch and Massimiliano exchange a smile that seems more like mutual validation. Delphine sighs and conjures up a teaspoon in place of the fan, dipping it in to get more antidote.

“That should be enough.” The Herbalist Witch takes the jar back. “I made more, given possible future poisonings.”

“Hmm, it tastes awful. But even so, don't worry, the Wall Witch and the gendarmes have been warned.”

“The problem, Your Holiness, is that you noticed it thanks to the oracle. It is a poison that manifests symptoms after a long time. It is dangerous.”

Massimiliano studies the jar with his eyes and twirls a mustache.

Delphine makes the spoon disappear, and the fan reappears.

“You are certainly both right. The important thing is to stay alert. If you excuse me, I'll visit the Guest star girl.”

The Third Witch disappears, appearing in front of Viola-Maria's room. Having adjusted her dress and corset, Delphine knocks.

“My beloved daughter, are you there?”

A muffled meow comes from the room.

“I am coming, Holy Mother, excuse me. Elea II made the bookcase fall.”

“Ho, wait, I'll come in and help you. With magic, it takes me a moment to fix.”

Silence.

“No need, Holy Mother, I would never make you spend money on these things.”

Finally, the door opens. A white spot splashes very quickly, disappearing into the vegetation and vases.

“Elea II!” Viola-Maria is in the doorway, adorned with bracelets and a long floral dress to beat the summer heat.

“Forget the cat. I'll heal it later.”

“Uh, no, Holy Mother, that is not necessary. Elea II is careful, much wilder than Elea. Nothing will happen to it.”

If I don't need to expose you, I would give you a tiger. It will be far from a wild cat.

Delphine smiles behind her fan. A proper Witch is indifferent to wickedness as long as it is directed toward others. It is what etiquette requires. Only laughter is allowed in its most varied forms. It has allowed many servants to develop manuals on laughing for communicating while always remaining polite. It works even in the face of the most grotesque situations.

Viola-Maria knows it. She knows that little secret language. But she cannot see how Delphine is laughing.

Because, I have a fan.

“Holy Mother, tell me. I doubt you came to talk to me about Elea II.”

“You're as witty as ever. What I have to ask you is about 'that' matter.”

“I have not mentioned it to anyone, Holy Mother.”

“I believe you, as we both know what awaits you if this gets out.”

Viola-Maria has a contrite expression. She looks at her mother with thin eyes and a tight mouth.

“Then tell me, Holy Mother. I assume you have a request.”

“The alchemist who sold you the poison.”

“You already know who he is.”

“Yes, he has already received a visit from us. But you go there with some gendarmes, accusing him of cheating you. I want you to accuse the Presidential Prince and any intermediaries. The gendarmes will be witnesses so that he can be sentenced to death.”

“You are merciless, Holy Mother. Why not act in the shadows and keep everything hidden? I guess I have no choice.” Viola-Maria smiles. A broad smile, sweet and yielding. A fake smile.

Because when I accuse you and the Presidential Prince, there will be witnesses, not only to your confession but also to your accomplice. And who knows, maybe that poor guy will come up with other names to keep his head. Counting the museum director's husband arrested yesterday, there would already be three witnesses.

“Indeed, you have no choice.” Delphine laughs and disappears again.

Around mid-morning, the Praetor-Duke reaches Delphine near the pond where he was stabbed. The water flows from a fountain to a stream that disappears into the woods.

The man wears formal clothes, a black-green military uniform, and the cape falling over his shoulders secured with the Dolphin-Dragon stud. He moves confidently, proud as he must have once been, with his long hair braided.

“My Blessed, the Herbalist Witch has healed you well.”

“My Holiness, I'm still shaken, but I can't complain. The body is in perfect health.”

The man half-bows and holds out his gloved hand. The Witch allows him to take her hand. The soft velvet of the gloves does not hide the solid grip of the man.

“Why all this formality?” Delphine adjusts the collar of his dark shirt and his army green tie. Passing her hand over his chest, she feels the man's pectoral, still sculpted as it once must have been.

Poor Third Witch, if she went to earth in my place, she would feel a very different consistency on my companion's chest.

At least my kids wouldn't have to try to kill her.

Unless she just disappeared.

“A messenger from Eggrio. Priscilla's funeral will be held this afternoon. It is best to leave as soon as possible, My Holiness. They have been intense days, but Priscilla has always been our friend. Her daughter, the current heir, needs to know that we are close to her.”

Delphine releases the man's hand, backing away towards the pond. She looks at the reflection of her body, that of her husband, in that clear pond with some aquatic plants and river fish.

Perhaps with magic, she could make the man stay young too, or in the past, they had already decided not to take that path. Who can say? We should ask, but this is not the right time. After all, whether she wants it or not, she does not care about Priscilla.

But I guess it's part of my duties…

Turning to her husband, the Third Witch shrugs.

“I guess it's as you say, My Blessed. Call Massimiliano and Grullo. We'll leave in half an hour.”

“Of course.”

The man half-bows and takes his leave. Watching him walk away, Delphine wonders if she felt something. Here, her son stabbed him. The son is now no longer a Delphine. He does not know what will happen to Viola-Maria, but he is not foolish. He knows that there is no forgiveness in these matters.

Yet, not a word. After all…

… words can do nothing.