The Prophet looked at her, before refusing with its head. “Nothing I can do about that. This space conceals anything that could harm me.”

 

“What if I tried to kill you with blunt force?” 

 

“Why would you even…” Aware that it was just curiosity from Velvet’s side, and not a threat, the Prophet just laughed softly. “We have the same strength… I could take you on a brawl.”

 

Only because you can see the future!

 

“But if you mean someone stronger, then they wouldn’t be allowed here, unless I could see that they wouldn’t try to attack me. This IS the safest place in the whole world, after all.”

 

Velvet hummed, agreeing. The Prophet was probably the only being aside from the Chosen One that could cause wars over its ownership.

 

She didn’t have time to see how Arhontissa dealt with Dianthus’ kidnapping, but it was an increasing political problem. One that she would never be part of, since the parties involved were big, powerful mages from the continents, and not random novice mages.

 

The random novice mages probably would suffer the consequences, though.

 

“So, are we assuming that the Archmage is dead at present, or do you have something that would prevent him from burning me to a crisp the moment I show up?”

 

“He is currently alive, that’s for sure. And I don’t know what you are expecting- well, I do, hehe. But he’s not going to kill you the instant you enter his place. He’s old and a bit coo-coo, but the more powerful a mage is, the less things they consider as threats.”

 

“And you’re not exactly threatening. Not to an official mage, less to an Archmage.”

 

“Why, thanks.” Velvet answered the compliment with a very nice, fake smile. “What about family or companions? It’s only him and Dianthus there?”

 

“Only them. He has raised a lot of novice mages through the years, but none of them were allowed to remain with him.”

 

“Paradigm?”

 

The Prophet fell silent, smiling subtly and picking the threading needles that Velvet had let down on the floor. “Retribution.”

 

“Name and title?” 

 

Now the Prophet started fidgeting with the needles, looking anywhere but at Velvet, which… started worrying her.

 

“Eiren Cardomos, the Ashen Arbiter.”

 

Velvet fell silent at that. She knew that name. Not the title, but the name.

 

It had been told to her by Viroa, when the old sailor got drunk enough to share some of her past on the open sea.

 

It had also been told by Madam Dorna, when the kids convinced the orphanage owner of telling some tale when they had to sleep and didn’t want to.

 

It was also a name written in books. Not magic books, but historic ones, the kind that detailed wars and conflict of the past.

 

Eiren Cardomos, one of Mirel’s Inquisitors. No, not an Inquisitor, The Inquisitor. And not of Mirel’s, since it went down in history as the one that passed law, sentence and punishment to his fellow Inquisitors.

 

Deeming them all sinners, sentencing them all to die under his sword.

 

The Inquisitor that tried to judge his own god. Tried to and survived.

 

In Charlampian history, Eiren Cardomos was the biggest reason why Mirel lost the war against Arhontissa for the ownership of the Archipelago.

 

A war evenly matched, until he single handedly changed the tides.

 

If Eiren Cardomos was the culprit, it was no wonder that Dianthus' supervisor didn’t last a single second.

 

A second was already too much!

 

Velvet opened her mouth, and yet, nothing came out for a while, her brain working faster than her body. “Wait… why didn’t I ask about the Archmage’s identity first..?” Realizing that she’d been played, she squinted at the Prophet.

 

All the things it had said, all the things it had done, were so that fate ended on the path where Velvet didn’t ask about the Archmage before making the Deal.

 

Damned mind-reading, future-seeing pieces of sh-

 

“Don’t glare at me like that, it was the only way to make you go.” The Prophet looked almost uncomfortable to the side, probably because Velvet was really close to start throwing hands with it. “You are very stubborn.”

 

“I wonder why.” It wasn’t a question. “Eiren Cardomos, the mage that, and I quote: ‘believes in the indomitable spirit of humanity, and their possibilities of defeating Permafrost without relying on fate’.”

 

Taking a deep, slow breath, Velvet continued, speaking calmly.

 

“OF COURSE HE CAN SAY THAT! He went against Mirel, his OWN god, as a sorcerer! You know what that means? It means he got the full backlash of breaking a divine oath, which nine times out of ten kills you, and the remaining one cripples you for life! And then he didn’t even die! No, their fight ended in a draw! Eiren Cardomos didn’t break fate! No, he bended it over and fuc-”

 

“He still dies in a week.” 

 

Velvet’s mouth audibly snapped shut, even when she still managed to send the most poisonous gaze she had ever made towards the Prophet.

 

“It's his death certain?” Even when Velvet was afraid of meeting Eiren Cardomos, that didn’t mean she didn’t admire him.

 

The mage part of her feared the ex-Inquisitor, but the Charlampian part was thankful for his actions, driving a war to its conclusion and saving Charlampia from being under Mirel’s Inquisitors ownership.

 

Eiren Cardomos saved more blood than spilled. And, if history books were correct, the amounts he spilled filled rivers.

 

Deep down, and not even that deep, she didn’t want him to die.

 

“It is.” The Prophet answered, emotionless. “Inquisitor or Archmage, he is still a human, and all humans eventually die.”

 

That was an absolute fact, one that Velvet couldn’t say nothing against.

 

Well, in fact, she didn’t have anything else to say to the Prophet, aside from cursing at it a little bit more. She wasn't, but she could.

 

“So, when will you send me there? It’s not like we have time to waste chit chatting. Plus, you didn’t even bring tea or pastries, as a good host should bring.”

 

“Wasn’t the sand that you ate on the beach enough?”

 

“That was consumption for science.”

 

“Consumption nonetheless.”

 

Velvet squinted at the Prophet. “You are stalling again. What more bad news did you sneak on me now?”

 

“You learn fast… I really hope to never see myself asking for your help again…”

 

Velvet laughed. “Oh, everything can be negotiated, for a well-deserved reward, of course!”

 

“That’s the part I fear…” Clearing its throat, the Prophet continued. “You like guessing things on your own, don’t make me spell it out for you.”

 

Laying back, Velvet pondered about it. Deductions were made using the information that she had already gathered, allowing her to fill the hole that was a conclusion. The Prophet was stalling sending her to Eiren Cardomos’ pocket dimension, so the deduction was about the reason.

 

The Prophet had mentioned being unable to see it, while also saying that the reason it was able to drag Velvet to its island was because it saw her location inside the Traversa’s pocket dimension.

 

So, one of the deductions was that, since the Prophet couldn’t see Eiren’s pocket dimension, it couldn’t tell the Mergifari’s Director where to drop her.

 

And yet, Velvet was supposed to somehow reach the pocket dimension without their help.

 

Of course, without their help didn’t mean without help. And, if she knew someone that could take her anywhere no matter the circumstances, ignoring all sorts of obstacles…

 

Well, she did.

 

One that, up until now, had shown interest in the Chained Man, so, in principle, had no reasons to ignore the issue.

 

But He also dropped Velvet half a kilometer away in the air from an island without warning, just as someone would flick away a very annoying bug. Not to mention the nightmares, weird visions, and the constant feeling of Him only putting up with her to reach His own goal.

 

That being said, yeah, her trip to Eiren had a mandatory stop at Lothrigern’s delivery services.