Antonius drove along the river, sending ripples of magic pulsing around. Sure, maybe the treasure was buried on the other bank. Or, in the river itself. But Antonius doubted it.

There was no point in Alaric crossing the river when he was on a deathbed. Yes, he stayed on the side of the mountains. About after an hour, Antonius left Lamezia Terme and went into the wilderness. He saw a bridge, but ignored it.

Continuing along the river, he saw fig trees and olive ones growing side by side. It never ceased to amaze Antonius how diverse Europe was. There, next to a traditional tree, the olives, was the fig. One that spoke about Arabian nights and the Orient.

Just as he was mulling over that, he felt a twinge in his magic. Antonius stopped the car and walked to the river. There was nothing to indicate that there was a treasure buried in the mud. Antonius spilled his magic in a more concentrated matter around the area.

Then, he felt it, something cold passed through him, and he stared at the river. A white hand showed itself from the water, followed by a head of a woman. The woman had her mouth opened in a scream, her eyes promising pain.

“Ah, shit. A banshee,” Alaric chuckled next to him as Antonius went to his car and searched frantically for the ear plugs. He was too slow, however, and when the banshee let out a scream, his ears began to bleed.

A head splitting headache made itself known to Antonius. He dropped the search for the ear plugs. They were useless now. Instead, he took out his bottle of holy water and his jar of salt and neared the river.

Opening the water, he let it pour in the river. The banshee let out a scream and tried to get away, but, it seemed, that she was glued to something. Antonius took a deep breath and waddled into the water.

The holy water would keep the banshee from coming too close. And, he only needed to get to it and pour the salt down on the base of its feet. The closer he got to the banshee, the colder it got. The water was cutting against his jeans clad legs, and he shuddered. Alaric was behind him, dragging his chains with him. Antonius resisted the urge to salt the bastard.

When he reached the banshee, he realized that he could see his breath. The holy water wouldn’t hold her for long. Antonius opened the salt jar and emptied it over the banshee’s head.

The banshee let out a scream and lost its shape. Antonius knew from experience that he had only five more minutes. So, he dived inside the river and looked around for a chest or something glittering in the water. There was something down on the river bed and Antonius tugged at it.

Standing up with it in his hands, he saw that it was a chest. It was minimal, no bigger than a jewelry box.

“Really, you sacked Rome and that was the best thing you can take?” Snapped Antonius to the barbarian chieftain, who shrugged. 

“I had to pay the tribe,” defended himself Alaric and Antonius huffed. He quickly got out of the river and into the car. He drove off just as the banshee reshaped itself.

When he was at a good enough distance, he opened the box. There were rings with personal sigil inside. Like the ones for stamping a letter. He recognized Caesar Augustus’s personal seal, but not the rest. Ok, if this was his personal ring, then it could fetch quite a bit.

There were bracelets in there, the kind young women would wear. And some earrings. All in all, it looked like Alaric had robbed a young Roman noblewoman.

Antonius sighed in disappointment. He had wanted to find something groundbreaking. Maybe an old letter between senators or a secret contract. But, he supposed, it had been too much to ask such a thing from Alaric.

“You don’t happen to have more catches, do you?” Alaric shook his head and Antonius closed the jewelry box. “Well, then, I don’t need you.”

Antonius stopped feeding Alaric magic and the ghost disappeared. Now, Antonius had lost all connection to him. He wouldn’t be able to search for anything of his using their connection. But, he did need his rest before summoning another spirit.

He got back to the hotel and quickly went on his Tor browser. He typed the online relic auction site he used and took a picture of the chest. It would remain there for an hour and, after that time, Antonius would ship the entire chest to the winner of the auction.

Tired, the man went and took a bath and then put on a fresh suit. Antonius ran his fingers through his blonde hair, and his green eyes sparkled with mirth. When he had told his agent, Lars Karlson, that he was going after the treasure of Alaric, Lars had told him it was a folly. Now, Lars would have to organize an auction without any warning.

Antonius looked out of his room’s window to the pool. He did like southern Italy. It was always warmer here than in Alaska. Granted, many places were warmer than Alaska.

With nothing better to do, Antonius went through his bank statements. After five minutes of number crunching, he sighed and rested his head on the pillow. He couldn’t go on like this. He was a treasure hunter, not an accountant.

Antonius checked the auction. A private collector from Florence had won. Antonius was glad for it. Then, the rings and the rest of the items would remain in Italy.

He left his room and headed to the spa center of the hotel. Feeling like he deserved some rest.