Delphine Inland

The Empire's Parliament votes to sanction the new laws. Each Witch can send a bill proposal to the Ministry of the Agreement based on the accompanying tax paid and the waiting times change before the law submission to Parliament.

However, only the 20,000 parliamentary witches have seats in Parliament. Therefore, they are the only ones with the right to vote. Every law is directly evaluable. 51% of voters in favor, the law passes. Otherwise, it does not pass. A passed law becomes law within 30 days, the date established by publication in the Imperial Official Gazette. An interested Witch can repurpose a discarded law to the Ministry again, restarting the process.

Since 51% of actual voters are enough, and not those entitled to vote, a law must be subject to at least three votes (two in favor and one against) to pass. Each eligible Witch may vote as many times as she wishes. The Witch covers each vote with the symbolic cost of 1 Lira. These lire will end up in the Treasury of the Empire. However, since 1689, a constitutional law has been passed that limits the ability of every eligible Witch to vote. No Witch can vote a single law more than she receives annually from the Base of Prosperity (see Appendix 1).

Therefore, the reader realizes that the Imperial-Parliamentary system—

Delphine stops reading. She closes the book and places it on the bed. She stretches her legs under the velvet blankets, stretches her arms, and yawns. Morning light streams through the open window, along with the chatter of some servants in the garden below.

After a restful sleep, Delphine woke up at dawn. Not in a hurry to get up, she started reading. However, the appendices of the text are boring. Not suitable for early mornings.

Getting out of bed, Delphine approaches the collection of muskets and sabers. They are ornate weapons made of precious metals. In the novel, it is not written that the Third Witch uses it. She has collected them over the years, commissioning them from renowned gunsmiths and witches or buying them at private auctions.

She touches the barrel of a particularly baroque harquebus, its golden barrel studded with rubies to simulate the eyes of a swarm of mosquitoes.

Curious choice.

“Looks like he's not even in the maze!”

The chatter of the servants grows closer. Delphine goes to the window to listen.

They are downstairs, two floors away. Their clothes are dirty with mud. One holds an unlit lantern, the other a bloodhound.

“It's not possible, what if—”

“Don't even say that as a joke. We still have to check the swan grove.”

“But he could have abandoned the palace, gone towards the mountains, or worse.”

Delphine looks up at the horizon, where the line of mountains glides in a distant band of clouds.

The search for Crisante is keeping the guards and servants busy. Viola-Maria made a scene, pretending to want to participate in the research. The Praetor-Duke did not come to sleep and somehow convinced the Herbalist Witch to help him.

“However, look…”

Delphine looks down at the two servants.

“…even if the foxes had torn him to pieces—”

“Foxes, don't tear people apart.”

“Let me finish, is a way of saying. Even if the foxes ate it, I think it would be better for everyone. Did you see what happened to the poor girl hired a few months ago?”

“Ah, well, she hasn't gotten used to it. She's not the first. Remember the one hit by the flower vase that fell from the Prince's room?”

“An accident!” The guy looks around, suddenly worried. “That was an accident. A bad coincidence.”

“Sometimes you're dense. No, it wasn't an accident. The Wall Witch saw it. He pushed it—”

“Look, these accusations don't interest me. I'm just saying, let the foxes take him.”

The other servant pats him on the back. He smiles. Who knows what they would say if they discovered being listened to? Delphine decides not to say anything. Biased in judgment, she has only one opinion on the matter.

‘Let the foxes take him,’ I like it. I have to have the local sayings explained to me. I can't risk making a fool of myself with the other witches.

Delphine decides to retreat to her room. She closes the window and gets ready to go out.

During breakfast, the table is a desert of dishes. Delphine studies the expensive, abundant dishes spread across the table. Although she has entered the room several times, she only now realizes how long the table is. It is a table for seventy people.

Breakfast is a waste. There are so many dishes. Delphine will never consume them all. Meats, eggs, sweets, fish, herbs, fruits, and various drinks. Endless plates and cutlery.

The servants assured Delphine that they and the gendarmes would finish what the family leaves behind. By thinking she was worried about wasting money, they missed the crux of the problem.

There is no one to eat with me.

Delphine is not used to this type of breakfast. Of course, sometimes, on special days, she had to get up while the others were sleeping. A quick toast, some milk and coffee, and off you go.

But here it is different.

A group of servants got up early to prepare all this goodness. They will eat the leftovers, and Delphine understands this too. But she does not understand why not let them eat with her.

Thinking about her children, Delphine feels a pang in her chest. She remembers her partner while she makes herself fried eggs. Constantly brought by the cousin with the chickens and the vegetable garden, fried eggs are a daily ritual.

Who knows if he's doing them these days too?

A suddenly strange thought crosses the Third Witch.

What if an exchange had taken place? Oh, poor them to find the Third Witch in their house. Of course, without powers, servants, and riches… but maybe with her haughtiness she can sort out my life.

Setting down the porcelain cup after a sip of tea, Delphine looks around. She thinks of the wireless telephone in the wagon. It is useful to call the witches from First to Tenth directly.

She asks a servant to bring her the set. The servant obeys and then dials the number on the wheel.

“Do you want to call the Second Witch? Are you sure, Your Holiness?”

Delphine notices the servant's discomfort, but she nods. Once he finishes the composition, the servant hands her the receiver.

No one answers.

The signal is magical, so the line does not go dead until someone pays. Delphine does a quick calculation. She has read that she needs one Lira for every thirty seconds of calling or waiting on the line. Bored after 3 Lire of waiting, she decides to hang up.

“Get the train ready. Summon Grullo and tell him he can abandon the search for the Prince. We will go in person.”

The servant nods unconvincedly, bows, and leaves the room.

Delphine is alone with that mass of food. She almost feels judged by it and decides to leave. The servants and guards will eat it, but she will no longer eat alone, label or not.

The station is on the opposite side of the palace from her room. Delphine climbs onto the first step of the wagon, Grullo and four gendarmes in tow.

“Wait! Your Holiness, wait!”

Turning around, Delphine recognizes Massimiliano.

“They found him. They have found your son, the Noble Prince.”

The butler is out of breath from running. They must have warned him of their departure, which Delphine is displeased with.

“Where is he?”

“In the grove behind the labyrinth. Where there is the swan lake.”

“Well, I trust that my husband will be able to handle this matter. We had already decided on that, hadn't we?”

The butler makes a strange face, which Delphine considers similar to those of auditors perplexed by his financial statements.

I have no escape, huh?

The butler seems to recover and bows.

“Your Holiness, your presence is essential. The Prince has…”

“He has?”

“He stabbed Your Beatitude Delphine, Your Holiness.”

Grullo and the gendarmes are alarmed, unsure what to do. They exchange glances and look for Delphine's gaze, who looks back at them uncertainly.

“Is my husband dead?"

“No, Your Holiness. The Herbalist Witch has already treated him. Your Beatitude rests. He was hit in the belly. He lost a lot of blood, but he is out of danger."

“How did she get a blade?”

“He stoles a knife from the kitchen. Desolate, Your Holiness.”

Do I kill he?

Delphine immediately takes back that spontaneous thought. It is dangerous. It could become a reality at the modest price of not even 10,000 Lire.

I have to control myself. I have to control myself.

Repeating the mantra in her head, the Witch steps down the step.

“Grullo, go ahead. I'll go and sort this out, and then we'll leave. Should the Second Witch call, you have the right to answer on my behalf. Tell her we'll get to her.”

The man gives a half bow of assent.

“Lead the way, Massimiliano.”

The gendarmes took Crisante to the garden. Surrounded by men and colorful flowerbeds, the Prince stands silently with blood on his hands.

Delphine looks him up and down. He has shabby clothes, disheveled hair, and is dirty with soil.

“Your escape is over. Of course, you work hard to be punished.”

The child looks away, clicking his tongue. If he were her son, what would Delphine do?

It is a difficult question. One that the Third Witch cannot answer. Her children do not do that. They do not have such an evil nature. Yet, tragic things happen all the time, even on Earth. It is not a question of blame but of problems to solve.

The Praetor-Duke and the Third Witch have raised a little monster, two if we also consider the evil future Witch Delphine. Maybe it is a success. Perhaps this is the kind of child a prestigious Witch would boast about.

The President herself spoke badly of her son as if it were a boast.

But of course, it is a game, a boast. This little being has no way of harming the Witch nor of tormenting her. He is like an annoying insect, free to ruin the lives of others. Because it is fun?

The novel discusses the uses of certain witches, but the Third Witch is not among those mentioned for these reasons. Indeed, she is a moderate personality, invested with the duty of keeping the general population balanced. She is a life accountant.

“Crisante, why are you like this?”

The child glances at his mother, makes a face, and looks at the flowerbeds.

“You know, right, it's no longer a question of sending you to re-educate. You will lose your inheritance, so I have decided. But tell me, I don't understand, and it upsets me. Why are you like this?”

“As well as? …as well as!? HUH!? I'll spit on your inheritance! I spit on the entire Empire! The wizards will have no mercy. We will recreate ancient societies and—”

“Give him the clothes of a servant's son, then take him out. I don't think I can understand this child. May he be known to all? I don't consider him my son.”

The child starts screaming very loudly.

“No! NO! NO!” Crisante runs and cries.

Massimiliano and the gendarmes start to chase him, but Delphine raises her fan.

“Quiet. Just make sure it gets out of the estate. After that, warn the Wall Witch. He must not come in again.”

“Your Holiness… I do not want to seem disrespectful to you. But to disinherit him requires the approval of a Witch Judge.”

“No need. Crisante renounced his rights alone. You are witnesses of this.”

“Of course, Your Holiness. And for Your Blessed husband?”

Delphine takes a moment to think about it. It is clear that Judas has a different perspective on the matter, and he will surely be hurt by it.

The Third Witch sighs dejectedly. She fans herself.

“Tell him that he ran away out of guilt. He doesn't have to know the truth.”

They all agree. The group disbands.