From the ship, four mages were taking out the covered statue. Like with the boxes, instead of using magic, they had to use their muscles.

 

Being of unknown origin, no one knew for sure how the thing under wraps would react to magic. It wasn’t a difficult task though, since the mages carrying it were from combat-focused Paradigms, able to lift it like a bag of grapes.

 

Slow and steady, they took the statue to the harbor, lowering and laying it down on the side, away from the rest of mages and yet close to where Fermidia, Tristan and Ceres were.

 

Fermidia walked towards them, turned around and motioned to the statue. “This is what you need to check.”

 

Getting away from the railings, Ceres clicked his tongue. “Yeah, I see.” He then brushed off the four carrier mages. “Don’t drop it here, take it to some empty room in the Institute.”

 

Unlike other mages, Ceres didn’t have the obligation of teaching any class, so he never used the rooms there. But the statue couldn’t be stored in any pocket dimension, and it couldn’t be revealed in public, so the closest and ‘safest’ place was the building where classes were taught.

 

Even when bothered by Ceres’ lack of manners, the mages were aware how the Agrana Base had ended after just gazing up at the bare statue, having been present to see the aftermath, and not wanting a repeat of that.

 

Of course, the mages of the Agrana Base had died by freezing, which wasn’t exactly possible on the Mergifari, so, even if they saw the statue, at most they would keep praying towards it until the Director showed up, or hunger, thirst and time got to them.

 

Even when the mages present were official ones, with more than a full Esca open, or family heads, with more than two, a physical proof of a god’s existence was enough to break any barrier of mental or physical defense they could possess.

 

So they obeyed, lifting the statue again.

 

“Take it to the third room on the second floor.” An aged voice said. Ceres didn’t turn around to match Hasdrubal’s gaze, as the old man slowly walked towards them, followed by another mage carrying one of the ice boxes. “It’s the closest vacant room.”

 

Immediately, one of the carrier mages cleared their throat, bowing their head slightly towards Hasdrubal. “Okay sir, thanks sir.” Before moving towards the Institute with the statue.

 

Hasdrubal followed them with his eyes for a bit, until he finally turned to look at Tristan.

 

It was just a simple glance, no longer than a second, and yet it managed to unnerve her.

 

Is it because of me taking Velvet? Tristan didn’t think that Hasdrubal would try to blackmail her. There weren't that many knowledge mages that survived by selling private information, after all.

 

If Hasdrubal had managed to live for hundreds of years, it was because he knew when to keep his mouth shut.

 

So Tristan returned his gaze, even when it lasted less than a second, since Hasdrubal only looked at her in passing, his eyes meeting Fermidia’s.

 

“Captain Sarcos, do you have a moment? I want to ask some questions about the Agrana Base.”

 

“Of course.” She said, pressing her right hand to her chest and bowing slightly. “My memory isn’t as perfect as some other marines, but, in case you need more details about anything, I can introduce you to all the record-keeping mages that were with me at the time.”

 

“I’d appreciate that.”

 

“And I will go to see where these guys dropped that thing.” Ceres said, stretching his back. “See you around. And I mean Fermidia, not you.” He finished, waving his hand as he left.

 

Hasdrubal didn’t respond, even when one of his eyebrows twitched.

 

“I’ll be staying on the Traversa’s pocket dimension.” Fermidia said.

 

“When you are out of there, then.” Ceres answered, already some meters away.

 

“Speaking of the Traversa family… the head left rather soon, am I wrong?” Hasdrubal caressed his beard, looking at Fermidia, even when Tristan was also close enough to listen.

 

“She said that there was a sudden mishap, and that she will be back shortly.” The Traversa’s were one of the groups with whom Fermidia exchanged pleasantries at the start, even when those were cut short because of, well, ‘sudden mishaps’.

 

“I see.” Hasdrubal didn’t press the issue, and Fermidia didn’t elaborate, choosing to instead wait for those questions about the Agrana Base.

 

Clearing her throat, Tristan interrupted. “I’m going to get my part of the list’s artifacts. See you later.”

 

Saying that, she also left, like most mages who were either carrying ice boxes back, were accompanying those, or were also artificers on a mission.

 

Left alone with Hasdrubal, Fermidia signaled towards her crew. “Shall we start with those questions?”

 

…

 

Back at the Institute, Ceres watched the covered statue in silence, sitting in a chair he dragged from another room, the room now empty except for him.

 

For him and for Udulluay, who was standing on his head. Whenever that one Udulluay was the same as the one at the harbor, he wasn’t exactly sure.

 

Letting out a long sigh, he got up, slowly walking around the statue in circles. After two or so circles, each one slower than the last, he stopped.

 

“Where is it..?” He muttered, looking up and down the wrapped figure, and then side to side.

 

He couldn’t find it.

 

He couldn’t find the end of the damned rope!

 

The sailors were afraid of using magic to touch the statue, using normal materials instead, but, BUT, they also tied up the thing as tight as they could, with a thick ass rope, with sailor knots.

 

Damned sailor knots, he didn’t know how to untie them! In fact, he still hadn’t found the start of the end of the damned rop-

 

Oh here it is.

 

Ceres tugged at it, then at the surrounding ropes. Nope, nothing, nada. The knot was tied up with the combined fears of a thousand sailors or so, making it some cursed artifact devoid of magic but full of anxiety to not be undone.

 

He was even sure that the rope was pulling away from him.

 

It wasn’t though, he just simply was unable to fight the sailor knots on equal ground. It was literally beating his ass.

 

So, he went and picked Udulluay up, using one hand to hug him against his chest, like how kids did with cats, and the other to manipulate one of his claws.

 

“Udulluay is no makeshift knife.” The owl complained, even when he didn’t exactly try to get free.

 

“Well, he is one for today.” Ceres said, dragging one of Udulluay’s sharp claws against the rope, and repeating the motion until it snapped, letting some of the cloth move freely.

 

Then he went to the other side of the statue, doing the same to what he decided were the ‘weak’ points of the whole sailor knotted web.

 

Once it was done, and only when the statue was free of its binds did he release Knidulluay back on the chair, who started preening, probably a bit annoyed.

 

“Well,” Ceres said, grabbing the sheets covering the statue. “Let’s see with what we are working on here…”

 

…

 

Back at her office, Tristan started readying the artifacts.

 

Ice drills, controlled, closed-space explosives, uncontrolled explosives, prosthetic hands, in case someone lost a finger or more to the cold, prosthetic legs, portable furnaces…

 

She looked at the mechanical suit she was working on. It still wasn’t ready, and, even if it was, it still had to be: approved by the upper representatives of the SP, tested on the Mergifari, tested on Permafrost, accepted to be distributed and manufactured in bigger quantities…

 

Money wasn’t an issue, the big shots couldn’t afford to have a tight purse when the world was in freezing danger, but, with the other points still existing, Tristan knew that the mech suit wouldn’t be ready for this month.

 

Well, it didn’t matter. With the funds won by delivering this batch of artifacts, she could buy all the necessary materials she lacked.

 

It was just a matter of ti-

 

With a thud, Tristan slammed her free hand against the desk, a bead of sweat traveling down her neck.

 

Her breath accelerated for a moment, as she felt something suddenly pushed in her brain, connecting to it.

 

She closed her eyes, poking it with a thought. 

 

The answer was familiar, and that was what made her freeze.

 

Tarderebusque, her demon familiar, had returned to her. And that should have been impossible. Nor was the demon able to teleport, nor was Velvet capable of teleporting it.

 

Hell, not even a damn archmage could locate a demon inside a pocket dimension, tear it from its physical location, and return it to its owner, without the owner even realizing what was happening until it was done.

 

And yet, Tarderebusque was back, with no traces of Velvet.