Somewhere else in the city, a Cat jeered to itself. A triumphant laugh echoed off the abandoned walls of the decrepit dwelling. As the black creature clutched the silver object, wishing distant and warped images onto its surface, presenting the object of his desires.

"There it is" A raspy voice emerged from the throat of the animal. "I can almost see it, The Bell of Heralds." he made a hissing laugh that sounded disturbingly human.

It had taken him days to figure out how to project his voice, or at least an illusion of it, using his newly restored powers. It was stilted and unnatural, coming from a Cat, but it was liberating being able to speak when he wanted to, not having to wait for the Demon to appear and sling taunts at him, only giving him back his tongue to hear his protests and curses.

He shuddered at the idea of remaining silent till their next, unpleasant meeting.

Dilebratly turning his attention to the current item of carefully chosen fancy, The image upon the spoon, depicting a large brass bell high above the city skylines and strange golden peaks surrounding it, with a raised inscription saying "Long live Hapsburg, Long live Us All." in the hardened metal.

The Cat licked his chops with lecherous ideals, The Bell of Heralds, the city's most prized possession. Crafted by the Orthodoxy to celebrate the City's founding and to commemorate the Hapsburg family as the Princes of this region. It was long suspected to have been infused with magical power by the Orthodoxy, but which enchantment they used has always been in debate, and vehemently denied by the Church itself that such enchantment existed.

Now it would be the linchpin of his designs. Even if he couldn't get his body back, he would still wield powers beyond any mage within a hundred miles of here! Only the infamous Orb of Magnificence could directly rival him.

He dismissed the image, he already knew where the Bell was. Where it had always been, atop the central spire of the Church at the center of town, often called The Heart Church or The Center Church, because of its location, However, this also made it the most heavily guarded item on his list. And also the item he would have the greatest trouble reaching. If any mage stood foot in the Sacred halls of the Central Church, they'd find themselves short of breath. And unable to produce anything more than the smallest of magical powers.

Submission of the Will they called, supported to remind mages that God was of a grander power than their paltry tricks. An item that was engrained into the building's construction.

Incidentally, it also made for a fantastic Security system. Only members of the Orthodoxy could use functioning magic within those halls. And he was sure that attempting to enter there would strangle him in his current state.

This had been a successful test of his scrying powers, and though he had plans for the Bell, it was currently out of his reach for now. For Now.

He shook a touch of exhaustion from himself and concentrated, letting the waves of himself enter the city and return in the self-same and subtle fashion as they'd been sent. Creating images and sensations of things around him. He expelled his desires and drew in the returning striations.

The reflection was cast in metal as his desires manifested, warbled and twisted as the dark shapes turned pale and grainy, rough turning smooth, and a sensation of hewn wood and dried ink appeared to fill the room. The Cat grinned as the shape that appeared in his viewing glass shimmered into existence.

He was looking at the form of a man-sized puppet, or at least he guessed it was man-sized anyway, Fully formed and designed by his hated rival, Artman Tobias Florentine. Back to his old Phantom Penman trick. He snickered, what a chump. If he wasn't an imbecile, he'd call the man a genius.

In their school days, Artman was head over heels for a young dutchess, but she lived several counties away and the letter office, remains woefully inefficient. So to solve this issue, and to impress their Master, Father Brion, Artman created a device He'd dubbed The Phantom Penmen.

A mechanical wooden hand on a stand that would mimic the hand gestures and writing motions of a magician over Long distances. It was a clumsy idea, inspired but impractical.

He, Himself, had taken the idea and attempted to, improve the design. A Letter writing table that functions in a broader but similar fashion to Artman's Model. Mimicking writing at a distance for messaging, while using established stationary devices.

He presented the improved model to Father Brion, Artman was furious when he discovered that his invention had been outdone and swore a vendetta.

Darwin's face soured as he remembered the incident, The Base concept had been flawed in either case and the machine he presented couldn't transmit any farther than the next room over. Father Brion was most disappointed when he had to explain that part.

It wouldn't be until the infamous Windbolt incident and the destruction of a guardhouse that Father Brion expelled them from proper Mage circles.

Ungrateful curr, He will rue the day he forced Darwin St. Zachery Von Helmut from Glory

He huffed at the bitter memory, To be upstaged and harassed by that womanizing twit was disgusting. But now, he finds himself relying on the half-finished work of others.

He huffed again and turned to his scheming once more. Ill temper bubbling with purloining machinations.

Artman wiped his brow after placing the finishing touches working on the new model of his old idea, Something he'd long scrapped and longed to complete. It was a wonderful manikin, His uncle was a carpenter, and had graciously agreed to help after he'd helped to ease the man's aching back.

This Wooden Man would finally put him back into the good graces of his Master, Father Brion had already seen it and was ready to accept its presentation to the Council. If all went well, He would be an institutional mage again.

Artman tipped a flask into his mouth, He already knew it worked, he'd taken it out a few times already, armed with Lapis Charms to make it appear Flesh and blood. Even that devil of a man Darwin didn't recognize it when it was practically sitting in his lap at the coffee house!

Using it to duplicate the appearance of Alicia was a wonderful gag, making it act so scandalous in public had him laughing so hard inside that if it weren't for Darwins' cutting insults, he might have accidentally given up the goat!

To be fair, the illusion wasn't perfect, it would fool any passerby, but less so up close. That and Alicia hadn't been very thrilled by it either. And his Duel with Darwin went about as expected, Fortunately, the Model hadn't been damaged when it collapsed.

Thankfully, he wasn't a fool that kept all his money on him in public.

He added another finishing touch to the engravings and yawned loudly and prepared himself for bed.

Glancing over his shoulder he spotted the sleeping form of his favorite mistress, Mavin, already beneath the sheets, dark curls spread out across the pillows, bright grey eyes closed in blessed slumber.

He smiled to himself "Worth Every Pence." He mused, fondly remembering her shapely forms and dancing eyes that had become his muse and model over the tiresome working days.

"Worth every Pence," he said a little louder. Standing up, he put out the lamp next to him and sauntered over to the bedside, he brushed her cheek gently, tucking a curl of luscious dark brown hair aside before spreading the sheets and settling in behind her quite slumber form, unconsciously her body pressed against his as he placed his arm over her body protectively.

Dreaming of tomorrow's trials and former pleasures. He recalled a promise made, to a bittersweet memory, with a pair of Foxe's eyes smiling back at him.