A sword made of dragon scales.
Even Countess Gretelle hadn’t known, so there had been nothing for her to tell him. But if that was truly the case, then hadn’t she just handed him sothing worth more than nine hundred gold coins for free?
If price had been the reason her master bargained for it, then it made sense.
Still, wasn’t that master of hers a bit too eccentric, haggling over countless artifacts with the Witch of the Lake?
As they slowly walked toward the carriage, Faust leaned in close, her hands clasped behind her back.
"Well? Satisfied?"
"I was hoping to learn who forged it. That would’ve pointed to the previous wielder. Still, knowing it’s made of dragon scales is a lead on its own."
"Why not just ask Countess Gretelle?"
"I did. She said it belonged to a legendary knight, but she doesn’t know the na."
Truthfully, Lancel already had his suspicions. All he needed was confirmation.
Ever since he began following the trail left behind by Nyarlathotep, he had co to realize just how significant witches had been throughout history, and how deeply that history had been manipulated.
If what Countess Gretelle had told him was true, then it ant that witches had deep ties to the establishnt of the human capital’s greatest and most powerful empire, the Empire of Brinte.
As soon as they returned to where they had parked the carriage, Faust snapped her fingers. Light gathered around her as a Hexencircle ford, and the carriage slowly revealed itself from its camouflaged state.
"Damn..."
No matter what kind of magic, magic was still magic, enough to leave Lancel srized. All types of magic had its beauty,
"Hm?" Faust glanced back at him with one foot already inside the carriage, a faint smile on her lips and a brow slightly raised. "Why are you staring like that?"
"Ah..."
For so reason, he was reminded of Leticia. It ca to him with no pretense. Perhaps it was because Faust’s sister resembled her, and with Faust being the younger one, he had unconsciously drawn the sa association.
That had to be it.
"It’s nothing."
As Lancel stepped into the carriage, a sudden thought crossed his mind.
What if Angelica had taken Leticia as her apprentice and heir because she resembled the friend she had killed, Faust’s sister, Vera?
"...."
* * *
The Humus Empire.
One of the human domains one had to cross when traveling between Emadestrin and Riviere. Because of this, Humus held the highest concentration of witches among all human empires.
As soon as they crossed the threshold, they were stopped by guards once more, their identities quickly checked before they were allowed through the gates.
"Have you been here before, Faust?"
"Of course. This is where I had my first alcohol."
"Uh-huh."
"It was probably... around twenty years ago—"
"You don’t have to lie. I know how old you are."
"...Do you want to hit you?"
Faust shook her head and let out a sigh.
"Fine. It was around two hundred years ago."
"Does your age really bother you that much? You don’t look any older than twenty, to be honest."
"Ever heard of never ntioning a woman’s age?"
"Then don’t bring it up yourself."
"...That’s different."
"How?"
"Because I’m allowed to. You’re not."
"That sounds convenient."
"It is."
"So what, I’m supposed to pretend you’re twenty?"
"You’re supposed to keep your mouth shut."
"...Right."
Faust glanced at him from the corner of her eye, a faint smile forming on her lips.
"Is there anything you want to do here?" she asked.
"Not really. What about you?"
"There’s soone I want to et. It’s been a while since I last saw them."
"And how long is ’a while’—"
The mont the words left his mouth, Faust shot him a sharp glare. Lancel took the hint and kept his mouth shut.
Won. No matter how many surrounded him, they remained difficult to understand.
In any case, the carriage rolled through the Humus Empire.
Owing to its position between major domains, the city had beco a natural crossroads, and its aesthetics reflected that.
Witchcraft and modern human design coexisted without clear boundaries. Towering stone structures, orderly streets laid out in the fashion of newer empires. Enchanted lanterns floated in the air, while chanical fixtures lined the roads, guiding traffic.
It was neither fully archaic nor entirely modern. It felt like a place where ti had layered over itself, where old magic had never faded, and new systems had simply been built around it.
Even the people reflected that blend. Cloaked witches moved alongside well-dressed rchants and uniford officials.
Though when compared to Emadestrin and Brinte, Humus was clearly lagging behind. Those two empires had already begun integrating steam technology into their cities, pushing their infrastructure into a new era.
In contrast, Humus still leaned heavily on magic, relying on their easy access to witches.
There were traces of progress, of course. Here and there, Lancel caught sight of primitive steam constructs, pipes running along certain buildings, and the occasional machine exhaling thin plus of vapor.
But they felt experintal, perhaps even out of place against the city’s dominant reliance on witchcraft.
It created a strange imbalance.
In so areas, the city felt advanced, with enchanted transport systems and spell-driven utilities that rivaled any chanical invention.
In others, it lagged behind, lacking the uniformity and scalability that steam-powered industry brought to its rivals.
Even the streets reflected this divide.
Carriages like theirs moved alongside mana-driven platforms, while in the distance, a few early steam engines rumbled awkwardly. It was a city caught between two paths, not yet willing to abandon the old, yet not entirely able to keep up with the new.
"We’re here."
"What is this place?"
Lancel glanced out the window. It was nothing more than a worn-down tent tucked away in a quieter corner of the comrcial district.
"It’s a tarot reading tent," Faust said. "Do you believe in fortunes, Lancel?"
"I didn’t take you for soone who believed in that kind of thing."
"That kind of thing?" Faust let out a scoff. "You’re saying that to a witch?"
"I ant superstition."
"Superstition ca from witches, you know?" she replied. "Back then, humans couldn’t accept that sothing like magic existed. So they gave it a different na. Curses, ons, bad luck. It was easier for them to believe in sothing vague than admit there were people who could actually control it."
"So tarot cards fall under that?"
"They’re a watered-down version of the real thing."
Lancel glanced at the tent again, unimpressed.
"Let guess. They’re going to charge money."
"I’ll cover it."
"Wait, you’re actually going to get a tarot reading—"
"Shh... co on!"
Before he could finish, Faust grabbed his wrist and pulled him along. The two stepped inside the tent without another word.
The interior was dim, lit only by a few candles placed around a small, circular table. The air carried a faint scent of incense. Draped cloth hung from the ceiling, muting the outside noise and sealing the space off from the rest of the city.
At the center of it all sat a figure, their face partially obscured beneath a hood, fingers idly shuffling a worn deck of cards as if they had been expecting them.
Faust released his wrist and stepped forward.
"We’re here for a reading."
The figure paused, then slowly lifted their gaze.
"I’ve been expecting you."
For a mont, nothing happened.
Then, all of a sudden, a thin layer of fog began to seep into the tent, curling along the floor before rising in slow waves.
Lancel tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly before the hooded figure moved.
A hand erged from beneath the cloak, pale fingers moving over the deck before spreading the cards across the table.
The flicker of candlelight danced over their surface.
"Sit."
Faust took a seat across the table at her words.
Lancel remained standing for a mont longer before eventually letting out a sigh and sitting right next to Faust.
The hooded figure adjusted the spread of cards before speaking.
"Tell , what is it you wish to know?"
The voice was unmistakably that of a woman.
"Is the Witch of Midnight here?" Faust asked.
"The witch of—" The figure paused, then broke character, her voice rising slightly. "Who are you?"
"Don’t you rember ?"
It had to be said. Unlike most witches, who followed a certain fashion trend, Faust preferred doing her own thing.
The only ti she wore a pointed, brimd hat was for official matters that required an Erudition. Outside of that, she left her head uncovered. She simply didn’t like the look of it.
But in that mont, Faust tapped her wrist.
Poof——
A pointed, brimd hat appeared out of nowhere and settled neatly atop her head.
"M-Miss Faust?!"
Faust leaned in, a grin spreading across her face.
"Long ti no see. You must be Dorothy, right?"
Dorothy, the hooded woman, imdiately slamd her head onto the table in a hurried bow.
"I-I’m so sorry you have to see like this!"
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