Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1416 Exploration Permit (Two Chapters Combined)

Wanda Maximov personally selected her favorite scented candles, intending to use them for her nightly bedtime ritual.

As a qualified witch, she was taught the steps to make ritual candles and how to use them in ceremonies. However, she still preferred the candles Salomon made by hand, because she believed she could never achieve such a precise balance of herbal ingredients, achieving the perfect equilibrium between efficacy and scent. "An electronic scale and simple chemical apparatus will suffice," Salomon said. "We've moved beyond the era of randomly tossing chicken feet into a crucible; precision is the essence of the scientific age."

"But I can't mix a scent that smells this good."

"These are just byproducts of my perfume-making process. You can choose your favorite fragrance in my lab," Salomon said. Wanda Maximoff noticed that at least a third of the scented candles smelled of violet and bergamot, which, considering the two witches, didn't seem strange at all. "These candles will be lit by your bedside, thirteen in total. They will help you fall asleep quickly and make you aware that it's a dream. You will communicate with me lucidly, like a psychic ritual. Do you remember when I told you about Mrs. Conan Doyle's Jane Leitch séance?"

"Prying the table open with your toes?" Wanda Maximov laughed.

While teaching in the dark cells of Storak Castle, Salomon, being an outsider, would always chat with the Maximov siblings about interesting things to alleviate the boredom brought on by the continuous high-intensity lessons, especially the jokes made by fake wizards and psychics. From the mystical trends of the Renaissance to the psychic rituals of the last century, he seemed to know all sorts of interesting stories. To the Maximov siblings, who were just young people in a small Eastern European town at the time, every story he told was a complete fantasy. They couldn't imagine how such a knowledgeable person could exist in the world.

"When Houdini, the master magician, questioned the séance's statement, 'My mother didn't speak English,' Conan Doyle retorted, 'How do you know she didn't learn English in heaven?' While that now sounds like a joke, and Jane Leitch's séance was a complete hoax, there's still some truth to it." Salomon held up a finger, as if to emphasize, "The dead don't necessarily speak languages ​​we can understand, which is why many schools of magic have such diverse necromancy. So be careful when you hear a language you can understand in your dreams; anything that initiates communication in the sea of ​​souls is definitely up to no good."

"That sounds dangerous."

"The Sea of ​​Souls is fraught with danger, and I'm sure I've said that more than once. Now put down your candles. I didn't invite you here for an interrogation, but to invite you to a witch's wine tasting salon," Salomon said with a smile. "I don't want Bayonetta and Jeanne to accuse me of being too harsh on my guests."

The white spine of the snake-bone staff floating beside Wanda swayed incessantly, emitting a whooshing sound. But Salomon merely glanced at it, and the auxiliary alchemical animal-type intelligence installed in the staff immediately ceased its activity; the tail-like spine drooped and then immediately tensed. Pale gray smoke rose from the ruby ​​eyes of the snake skull, as if branded tightly to the flesh with a red-hot iron. As the alchemical intelligence he had programmed, even though it was largely in sync with its new master and could react to her emotions, the staff still could not defy its creator.

"Just a guest?"

Salomon shrugged and said nothing.

When the witch returned to the drawing room, she had changed her clothes. Her previous high-waisted sports bra or lace nightgown had been replaced with a more personal style. The manor only hosted private parties, yet they still enjoyed meticulously selecting evening gowns and matching jewelry—however, compared to the standards of wealthy ladies, the witches primarily considered ease of movement and shooting when choosing gowns. Wanda Maximoff, however, arrived at the manor in jeans and a jacket. Aside from her magic ring and the blood-stained gloves given to her by Salomon, she wore no jewelry other than a pair of ruby ​​earrings and a ruby ​​necklace.

The private wine tasting party had to be slightly delayed because the witches invited Wanda to their dressing room to choose an outfit.

Joan of Arc subtly gestured to him, indicating that the plan would proceed as scheduled.

The giant, clad in golden power armor, moved silently across the cold marble floor, only speaking when he reached the edge of the white cashmere carpet on the living room sofa. "My lord, what is your assessment of Wanda Maximov's mental stability?" Hammurabi leaned down and asked, addressing the woman seated on the sofa. "According to your established procedures, this needs to be recorded in the latest evaluation file."

"It's currently at the Alpha level, and the score from the Serpent Staff's built-in detection program has been exported."

"The arcane masters of Kamar-Taj believe your standards are too lenient. They think the target's mental stability is only at the Delta level," Hammurabi said. "They tried to infiltrate the target's dreams to find more clues, but a deacon assisting in the ritual went mad, and several masters determined that Wanda Maximov's mental stability was out of control and had to be dealt with as soon as possible."

So she's here now.

The Emperor casually poured Hammurabi a glass of wine as well. Outside, Diana, having received instructions, closed the drawing room door and told the maids who were supposed to serve in the drawing room to rest. They had just finished cleaning the modern river-view room next to the glass greenhouse and changed the sheets; there was no need for them to rush in to serve, much less keep a close eye on Hammurabi for fear he would soil their work.

"Has the Venerable Master not returned yet?"

“No, my lord. It seems that Laura Crawford’s studies have been somewhat hampered by the presence of the Sorcerer Supreme.” Hammurabi, holding the Guardian Spear, accepted the wine glass, which was rather small for him. The glass of wine was just enough to wet his tongue, but for a Guardian, it was sufficient; he could easily discern the wine’s origin, vintage, soil composition, and sunshine conditions. “However, I have no objection to the actions of the arcane masters, since Laura Crawford is always trying to break into the locked library, seeking secrets within. Should I reiterate the taboos of Kamar-Taj and issue a punishment? Oh… no wonder it’s a semi-dry wine; the Champagne region’s sunshine is simply too abundant in accumulating sugar.”

"Let Laura Crawford do what she wants; her every move is guided by fate. Perhaps we could introduce her to our Lady of Prophecy, though she's somewhat eccentric..." The Emperor frowned, then shook his head. The lady who could talk to stones was the only thing his prophetic magic couldn't touch—when he first saw her, she appeared to be talking to a stone, but in reality, she was talking to the atoms within that stone. Perhaps sometime in the past or future, one of those atoms resided within someone's body, and the lady was speaking to that person. Only, no one but her knew who that person was. "That's the price of omniscience; the lady's mind can't distinguish between past, present, and future, yet she's the best person to interpret Laura Crawford's destiny. Besides..."

He hesitated for a moment, but ultimately made a decision.

Perhaps due to a lack of manpower at Kamar-Taj, or perhaps because it was an area rarely visited, Laura Crawford was repeatedly choked by the fine dust falling from the bookshelves. Wandering through the Kamar-Taj Library was an extremely arduous task, not only risking getting lost, but also because the library's environment was unsuitable for human habitation. Laura Crawford could confidently claim to have been to many places inaccessible to ordinary people and possessed many survival skills uncommon, but she could swear that even Siberia wasn't as dry and cold as the Kamar-Taj Library—even while taking astrology classes at the Dhaulagiri Observatory, she didn't find the blizzard outside particularly cold, and the hot water in her thermos flask turned into an icicle in just over ten minutes—if she got lost here or fell down the bottomless spiral staircase, even she couldn't survive.

She had been warned that this was a forbidden place, not so forbidden as it seemed, meaning she could enter with permission and face the potentially dangerous books and objects within. However, no one would grant her that permission, for she was not a member of Kamar-Taj, she didn't even possess the most inept apprentice's psychic abilities, and she couldn't handle even the simplest supernatural threats. But someone had tacitly allowed her entry, even providing her with essential protective gear—such as pistol bullets with bullets resembling solidified mercury, the casings engraved with dense symbols she could only discern as a combination of runes using her limited knowledge of occultism and extensive historical knowledge; in addition, there were exploration tools like an inextinguishable cold-light candle and an endless rope.

"I'm so glad you came, Laura Crawford!" The female voice jumped in surprise. She turned around and saw a woman standing behind her wearing a dark blue robe and a wooden stump eyepatch painted with comical eyes. "I've been waiting for you here for a while, almost a few days!"

"Prepare a dose of 'Six-Winged Angel Serum' for her." This is hailed as the most effective medicine known in the magical world, often called a panacea. Those who drink this serum will instantly regain their health and have all wounds healed. Any magical curses (such as blindness) or diseases will be controlled and then slowly healed over several days. While the Six-Winged Angel Serum isn't a true panacea, he believes it's sufficient. "I know the stock in Kamar-Taj is limited, but I think Laura Crawford needs this medicine. Tell those arcane mentors that I won't be using the true elixir of immortality (Otkid's Elixir), so if they still have objections, I'll go to them myself. You should leave now, Hammurabi. Before you go, do me a small favor."

Just as the guards were wondering what was going on, Milia, dressed in a down jacket, rode a goat almost as tall as a person and brazenly burst through the drawing room door. A maid wielding a chainsaw sword chased after her closely. From the maid's expression, it was clear she wanted to stop Milia and the goat from disturbing her master's meeting and prevent the goat's muddy hooves from soiling the manor, but dared not be too rough—meaning she didn't want to behead the goat on the spot—lest she harm or frighten Milia and make the expensive carpets even worse. Hammurabi immediately turned, bent down, and pressed down on the goat's head with his bare hands, no matter how much the animal, spoiled by Milia, struggled. Surprisingly, the animal, which should have been afraid of the guards, was now struggling desperately, as if all the fear of apex predators in its genes had been eliminated.

Salomon lifted the girl off the sheep's back.

"What did you feed it, little goat rider?"

Originally just a few lambs kept as pets, these goats, past their estrus cycle, grew larger and larger due to genetic editing, even becoming suitable as training animals for Milia before she rode horses. After the bear cubs settled in the forest, the goats, now without their natural predators, became dissatisfied with just hay. Salomon repeatedly witnessed Milia secretly feeding the goats carrots, eggs, milk, or bacon that she couldn't finish her breakfast, then claiming to the witch that she had eaten everything on her plate. From then on, Salomon could no longer be sure if the goats' stomachs contained anything other than the seasonal flowers and hay from the garden that should have ended up on Milia's plate.

"Afternoon tea!" the girl answered proudly. "Lots!"

Even Salomon felt suffocated upon hearing this answer.

She must have taken advantage of his leisure time after afternoon tea with the witches to sneak into the glass greenhouse and pack up the cocktails, desserts, and roast meat that the maids hadn't had time to clear away, then enjoyed them with her animal friends. At that time, no one had time to interfere with Milia's actions; even Dina was busy processing biological materials, so Milia could do whatever she wanted. Salomon didn't want to reprimand her for this; after all, Milia's ability to sneak into the locked glass greenhouse was a skill that needed encouragement and proper guidance. "Hammurabi, Tatiana, please help me throw this goat into the forest," Salomon said softly. If he wasn't mistaken, the goat had ingested a large amount of alcohol, but he hadn't expected a drunken goat to be so irritable. "I think the bear cubs in the forest should be happy to see an old friend."

"Should we kill this animal?" Tatiana finally seized the opportunity to speak. She said viciously, "This beast almost caused irreparable damage to the artwork in the manor!"

"Let it live. I don't want to be woken up by Milia's crying."

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(End of this chapter)