The Hundred Reigns

Chapter 121: The Overlord of Crime (5)

The first thing ‘Silk’ did was to have Simon sign a magical contract similar to the one used by the White Unicorn’s conspiracy in Endymion, forbidding him from revealing the Weavers’ identity to outsiders under the pain of death.

“It is a mere formality,” ‘Silk’ said after they stepped into the butcher’s shop. “You’re already neck deep in blood with us, and there’s a solid line of succession for each Weaver to take over should any of them be compromised, but you never know.”

“Yes, I understand…” Simon replied as he considered how to proceed, before realizing this was his best moment to fish for more information. He suddenly froze in place once they entered the Attic through the back of the shop, and pretended to frown at Silk.

“It’s a great honor to meet the Weavers,” ‘Silk’ said with a hand on a yellow door’s knob, until she noticed his expression. “What is it, Simon?”

“Who…” Simon squinted at her, pretending to suddenly notice something was wrong. “Who are you?”

‘Silk’ feigned confusion. “I’m Silk, who else?”

“No, you are not,” Simon replied as he immediately summoned his mace. The brief trip to Telluria had been worth it just to recover his prized weapon. “You wear her face, but your behavior feels… different. Are you a shapeshifter luring me into an ambush?”

‘Silk’ stared at him for a moment, a pleased smile stretching on her lips. “He’s uncannily perceptive, sister,” she said to no one in particular. “It usually takes them months to notice, and he caught on to me on our first meeting.”

“And some never realize they’re being duped at all,” another voice replied from behind Simon, who turned around to find himself staring at Silk. The real Silk. “Good. Paranoia is a precious quality in our line of work.”

“Sister?” Simon asked, feigning shock and surprise. “You have a twin sister, Silk?”

“Sort of,” the talkative one of the pair replied. “I’m Velvet, and this is my other half, the real Silk. I take orders from the Prince too.”

“But we let people assume we are the same person, so we seem to be everywhere at once,” Silk replied with a hint of amusement. “It unsettles our marks, strikes fear in our subordinates’ hearts, and ensures operations continue should one of us ever be incapacitated.”

“I understand,” Simon replied warily. The twin explanation was significantly more mundane than what he had expected, but he had the feeling there was more to the story. He had already encountered fetches associated with the Cobweb, so they could be doubles or creations of the Prince of Spiders for all he knew. “That’s a clever ploy.”

“As I told you earlier, misdirection is key if you want to survive,” Silk said as the trio walked through the doorway. “Strength invites challenge, and deceit disarms them.”

They walked back into the dark room with the spider statue… except that all five seats were taken this time, with three more added to the mix.

Ludwig Bert was there, alongside Renal, Lord Albert of Magvolia—that crook who had dared to try and sell off Eole at his auction a few reigns back—and surprisingly, Amadeus Voltobauta himself. Simon knew he was associated with the Cobweb since he attended their auction in Magvolia, but he didn’t imagine he would be one of its ringleaders.

The other four were unknown to Simon. The first of the strangers was a forty or so year old human male dressed in black, aristocratic attire including a black jacket with vulture feathers around the neckline. His long black hair flowed down his back and framed a clean-shaved, handsome face with piercing dark eyes. His predatory smile sent shivers down Simon’s spine for some reason, even though he looked unarmed.

The second was a grey-blue werewolf shifter already transformed into their beast form, but with dark pants and mechanical clockwork-like contraptions embedded in their chest. Tubes connected to a cylindrical canister strapped to their back pumped green liquid into their muscles and mouth, and their natural claws had been replaced with metal blades. Their yellow eyes warily assessed Simon like a predator assessing another of their kind.

The third stranger was perhaps the most unsettling of the lot: a green-skinned, hunchback, obese crone with a long, hooked nose and ears that superficially resembled those of an elf. Her grotesque smile was full of pointed teeth made of gold, silver, and copper, all of them razor-sharp; her white hair was bound into a bun by small children’s bones; her rags incorporating pouches of alchemical components, witch fetishes, amulets of power, and rings. A black cat rested on her lap, and she smelled of gingerbread.

A hag.

Simon had heard enough of those creatures to be wary of them. Hags were a subset of the infamously adaptive Goblinoid Tribe, resulting from female members of the species growing in a mana-rich environment. Simon recalled that Mr. Adrissant theorized that this was a case of convergent evolution leading those creatures to emulate dryads. They were as intelligent as humans and capable of great spellcasting feats, and could form covens with Witch Class users to increase their power.

The fourth stranger was a heavily bandaged figure wearing a ram-like golden helmet covering the upper face of their head, a leather jacket, and pants that Simon recognized as the Archeologist Vassal Class outfit. Simon was more or less certain he was a man, but he could only see a red glow through the helmet’s eyes, and a hint of rotten flesh beneath their wrappings…

These are the Weavers? Simon thought as he examined the people in the room. Nearly every Weaver present reeked of the Dark, except for Renal and Albert. This is a freakshow.

Did the Prince of Spiders hide among them? Or was their hidden master somewhere else, directing things from afar?

“Dear Weaver assembly, let me introduce you to our newest Spinner,” Velvet declared. “Overlord Simon Magnos, alias Simon Goldenhell.”

Simon suppressed a scowl. Of course they wouldn’t reveal their identities to him without reminding him they held leverage. The message was simple enough: if he ratted them out, then so would they.

Simon spotted the bandaged man whispering something into the ear of the black-haired stranger and Ludwig, who both nodded sharply.

“Your Majesty.” Lord Albert greeted Simon with an obsequious smile. “It is an honor to meet you in the flesh. My condolences on your father’s demise. Emperor Balzam will be dearly missed.”

“He won’t,” Voltobauta mused with a thin smile. “I must say, it is a surprise to see the Overlord among us… just how far does our Prince’s reach extend?”

“Quite far, Lord Voltobauta,” Bert said. “It is a small world, after all.”

“What a beautiful and handsome young man,” the hag said with a sweet, almost motherly voice. She rubbed her hands together. “Granny will take good care of you.”

“I’m not impressed,” Renal said gruffly. “He wouldn’t come to us as a beggar if he were all that strong.”

“He’s stronger than he looks,” the werewolf replied, squinting at Simon. “I feel a… a pressure coming from him. An urge to submit or be destroyed.”

“I must say, I didn’t expect to see Amadeus Voltobauta himself present,” Simon replied calmly. He knew better than to look surprised or intimidated in such company. “What is the Necromancer doing here, may I ask?”

“You’re well-informed, lad,” Voltobauta said with a sharp, calculating gaze. “I’m a new hire, shall we say.”

“He killed his predecessor and forcefully invited himself to this council,” Silk said bluntly. “Lord Voltobauta was causing us many headaches preying on our ships, so the Prince chose to cut him in rather than keep up a pointless feud.”

“I said I would take either a slice of the pie or all of it,” Voltobauta mused. “They picked wisely.”

“Anyway,” the black-haired man cut in with a Lorean accent. His words were soft, but somehow sharply cut through the chitchat. “I would assume the Prince didn’t summon us just so our new guest could watch us bicker. Should we proceed with our own introductions?”

“Allow me,” Velvet said as she waved her hand at each Weaver in turn. “Simon, this is Lord Albert of Magvolia, who handles forging, fraudulent records, and documentation. Right there is Ludwig Bert, merchant-prince of the Bert Trading Company and head of our smuggling branch; the Ninja is Renal of Fablan, leader of the Fangs, our assassination squad…”

Simon guessed he had little to fear from the Cobweb’s hired killers if he had bested its leader in battle in his previous reign, but he knew better than to lower his guard. Numbers and tactics could easily bridge the gap in power, and these Weavers were likely all elites with Class levels.

“The hag is Granny Radhag of Uyo, our narcotics head,” Velvet said. “She handles our worldwide dreamshade production.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my child,” the hag said politely. “Curious, I have heard you bound souls to a beer vat. May I ask if that is true?”

“It is,” Simon confirmed, ignoring the whistles from other members of the assembly.

“Wonderful. I have a faulty cauldron at my home, and you would just delight an old woman if you could fix it…”

“Another time,” Silk said sharply, “Pirate King Voltobauta of Valne is our treasurer and vault-keeper, and the werewolf is Borsh Fleshmonger, our slaver-in-chief. The mummy at his right is Chrom Cruak of Navarre, our head of arcane trafficking. He handles all magical artifacts.”

“Chrom Cruak?” Simon frowned, doubly so at the mention of mummy, which he knew to be a form of undead native to Navarre. They retained their intelligence like liches and often wielded similar powers, though without the phylactery-driven ability to come back from destruction. “That’s an elven name.”

“It was an elven name…” the bandaged figure replied, his voice the rasping echo of a buried crypt. Still, he sounded pleased that Simon recognized his name. “It’s old-fashioned among the living nowadays… more of a curse than anything else.”

“Finally…” Silk tensed up slightly as she introduced the final Weaver present, the black-haired man. “This is Count Thomas Verney of Lore, who handles our legitimate businesses.”

Simon’s eyes widened in genuine surprise. Thomas Verney of Lore was a hero of the White Unicorn Wars, who had fought the Empire of Endymion during its invasion of Magvolia years back.

“I’ve heard you’ve clashed blades with my brother Louis and lived to tell the tale,” Simon said with genuine respect, having experienced his sibling’s power first hand. “An impressive feat.”

“You are too kind, Your Majesty,” Count Verney said with a smile that put Simon ill-at-ease again. His gut told him there was something wrong with the man, though he couldn’t put his finger on it. “But I wouldn’t be so bold as to say your brother and I ‘matched’ blades. I was lucky to escape.”

“That is more than many can say.” Simon himself included. “Still, should I be wary of you? The White Unicorn and I are mortal enemies.”

“It was another life entirely, Your Majesty,” Count Verney replied with a hint of amusement, as if laughing at a private joke. “While I officially retain my White Unicorn membership, I am tired of all those pointless conflicts. I pursue other ventures now.”

“Most wise, Count of Demise,” the Prince of Spiders’ voice came out of their statue, whose eyes shone bright red. “To sharpen his wicked claws, this young manticore came to us; and to put them to use, I have gathered you all here.”

Simon crossed his arms. “What am I to do then?”

“To serve and learn, what else?” the Prince replied mirthfully. “At this council’s disposal, you shall be. A task for each of them you shall fulfill, to receive their benediction and proof of loyalty.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to NovelBin for the genuine story.

“I’ll start,” Voltobauta said immediately, raising his hand. “Is it true you have a kish girlfriend, Your Majesty?”

Here comes trouble. Simon glared at the Necromancer. “My concubine is not for sale, vampire.”

“If I wanted to bed your woman, I would have stolen her away rather than pay for the privilege, but whatever…” Voltobauta cut straight to the chase. “My favor will be a five minute chat with her in your company. I swear I won’t make a move on her.”

“As for me, my only favor would be that Your Majesty treats me kindly and forgoes any grudge against my person once they take the Crimson Throne,” Lord Albert said, clearing his throat. “In spite of any past… potentially problematic association...”

“You mean your dealings with Magvolian royalists and the White Unicorn?” Simon replied, a drop of sweat falling from the man’s forehead. “Indeed. I know all about the plot, and I let it unfold because it serves my ends.”

“I, of course, only infiltrated those traitors for the sake of gathering information for our beloved empire.” The lie was painfully transparent. “I simply ask for a pardon when Your Majesty inevitably retakes their lands…”

“An oath of friendship and forgiveness, then,” the Prince of Spiders mused. “A boring choice, if a prudent one.”

And one which Simon would gladly betray. His first instinct was to refuse Voltobauta’s demand too, but this would have been counter-productive and raised suspicions. This was clearly some test of loyalty from the Prince.

I warned you, Eole, Simon thought. We’ll have to be careful and waylay the Necromancer. “I see no issue with either demand.”

“Excellent,” Voltobauta replied with a wicked grin that showed his vampiric fangs. “Let’s not tarry then, unless my esteemed fellow councilors have something else in mind?”

“Oh, there’s no rush,” Granny Radhag said with a small wave of her hand. “Take your time to visit me, dear.”

Renal snorted. “If he’s so strong, I’ll have him cut off some heads later.”

“Ludwig and I need to… examine the Scales for containment first…” Chrom rasped, with Ludwig Bert nodding in agreement. “You will see to our tasks then…”

So those two are interested in the Zodiac Fiends, Simon thought. The ‘containment’ part aroused his suspicion. Did they create Silk’s Crab-binding grimoire?

As for Fleshmonger the werewolf, his favor was the kind Simon had been dreading the most. “I need more muscle to round up slaves in Telluria,” he said, “That stubborn bitch Vouivre’s feud with House Magnos has disturbed the supply chain. We can grab up an entire tribe’s worth with the Overlord at our back.”

“As for my favor, nothing comes to mind yet,” Count Verney concluded, his head resting on his clenched fist. “I think I’ll wait until everyone else has had their turn.”

There’s something deeply wrong about that man, Simon thought. He sounded as detached and eerily calm as Louis. Are those two cut from the same cloth? If so, I should stay wary of him.

“Then it is settled then,” Silk decided. “Our newest recruit will have to fulfill favors in this order: Lord Albert, Lord Voltobauta, Renal, Fleshmonger, Granny Radhag, Ludwig Bert, Chrom, and Count Verney.”

Simon nodded in agreement, then proceeded to fulfill the first favor by swearing an oath to Lord Albert that he wouldn’t take revenge on him for his actions and remain his ‘friend’ should he take the Crimson Throne. Of course, this promise would only apply to the current reign, if at all. The Cobweb had taught Simon that their promises weren’t worth the paper they were printed on, and it would be rude not to repay them.

Treachery cut both ways.

Once that matter was settled, Silk escorted Simon and Voltobauta back to the Attic. Simon sensed an opportunity to fish for more information and went for it.

“Every Weaver came from a different country altogether,” he noted. “How did you arrange this meeting so quickly? Do you have a stash of teleport gems hidden away somewhere?”

“You haven’t noticed?” Voltobauta inquired, his gaze wandering to the rest of the Attic. “Each door here leads to a different country or another set of doors somewhere else. It allows us to travel across the world in an instant, but only Silk, her sister, and the gatekeepers know the way around them. I still have no clue how they built it.”

“It was too early for him to learn this secret, Voltobauta,” Silk scolded the Necromancer after leading them back to the butcher shop “Mind your tongue. The Prince allowed you to join us because the costs of removing you outweighed the benefits. Keep pushing, and that will change.”

“Sure, sure,” Voltobauta replied dismissively. “I know my way around Rosanne, so you can go cocoon some poor chap or kick a puppy somewhere else, Miss Black Widow.”

Silk squinted at him, then opened another door and vanished behind it, leaving Simon alone with Voltobauta. Simon would be lying if he said he didn’t find the Necromancer’s behavior towards his allies amusing, though he kept his guard up. The man had been trying to purchase Eole from his colleagues the last time they met.

“Finally alone, like two lovebirds,” Voltobauta said. He put on a Fiendmask once outside the butcher’s shop to resemble an elegant nobleman, then strolled under the moonlight. “You’re playing the long con, aren’t you?”

Simon froze in place, not only from the question, but from the language the Necromancer had suddenly switched into.

The kish tongue.

“How do you know this language?” Simon asked warily in the same tongue, cursing inwardly. He had hoped to deceive and waylay Voltobauta by pretending Eole could only speak kish.

“A ghost taught it to me. It’s a dead language—or should be—and I doubt any of the bugs’ spies can understand it, so we should be fine talking in the open.” Voltobauta patted him on the back as if he were an old friend coming to say hello. “I saw the hateful look in your eyes when you spotted Ludwig and Albert. It was so fleeting I doubt anybody else noticed, but I can recognize a man with a murderous grudge. Besides, there’s no way the Overlord would ever play second fiddle to a bunch of crime lords.”

Simon briefly considered somehow killing the Necromancer where he stood—an unlikely prospect considering his position and the fact they were on the docks in view of witnesses—before holding back.

“Neither would the Necromancer and Portempête’s pirate king,” Simon guessed, matching the Necromancer’s gaze. “You’re using them for your own ends too.”

“Your Evilness catches on quick,” Voltobauta replied. “King to king, I only joined those creeps in order to keep an eye on them and learn something I hope your moll can teach me. You have my blessing if you intend to wipe them out. I won’t rat you out to them, or the White Unicorn either.”

“So long as I tell you what you wish to know,” Simon guessed. “Are you blackmailing me, Lord Voltobauta?”

“What can I say, Overlord Magnos?” Voltobauta laughed. “I’m a pirate. I don’t buy, I plunder.”

Simon guessed they had that in common.

With little other choice, Simon arranged a meeting between Voltobauta and Eole in a safehouse away from the Golden Butterfly to discuss things without ears in the walls… or dispose of the Necromancer away from prying gazes should he learn too much. Voltobauta dropped his Fiendmask on arrival, his vampiric majesty unsettling Eole.

“I must say, you’re the prettiest little songbird I’ve ever seen,” Voltobauta said with a lurid whistle when he saw Eole for the first time. “If I were a common ruffian, I would have duelled your master for your hand right here and now…”

Eole’s surprise at hearing him address her in the kish language swiftly turned to disgust. “Lay your hands on me, walking corpse, and you will lose them.”

“Sharp tongued too,” Voltobauta said as he raised his hand. “A moment, please. Silence of the Dead.”

Simon sensed an otherworldly chill travel across the room, with an invisible presence settling in the room. A notification popped up.

The mischievous dead will silence your conversation from unwanted ears.

“Alright, we should be fine for the next hour or so, though I suggest we stick to speaking in the kish language, just in case,” Voltobauta said, his arms crossing. “You seem a bit too comfortable with your situation for an unwilling sex slave, songbird… you’re in on your boss’ plan, aren’t you?”

This rogue is as sharp as his blade, Simon thought. He guessed it was par for the course with a pirate king. There were dumb pirates and old pirates, but no old dumb pirates. “Ask your question and bother us no more, Necromancer.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll get straight to the point.” Voltobauta stared straight into Eole’s eyes. “Does your kind live on flying islands?”

Eole paled in horror, then immediately turned to Simon without a word with a mix of anger and shock. Simon clenched his jaw and tried to silently tell her to keep quiet, but her reaction already told the pirate king everything he needed to know.

“Ugh… your expression says it all,” Voltobauta grunted in annoyance and pinched his nose. “I knew it, I’ve lost the bet… I can’t believe that little rascal was right…”

“The bet?” Simon asked, scowling as he remembered a detail Shabram had shared with him all those reigns ago. “I recall that you had a wager going on with the Adventurer, Alcyone Hyades.”

“How—how do you know that?” His question startled Voltobauta. “Ugh, nevermind… long story short, Alcyone and I are tavern buddies. We used to meet every Rogueday at a high-sea bar to drink and exchange stories. We chatted about the monsters we slew, the places we explored, the treasures we found…”

“How do you know of my homeland?” Eole asked sharply, her tone dangerous.

“My friend Alcyone is an inveterate plunderer of forgotten ruins and dusty old tombs,” Voltobauta said. “I keep telling her you have to be shameless to steal from the dead, but she never listens.”

“You’re a pirate,” Simon pointed out flatly.

“Yes, exactly, I only rob the living. I have standards.” Voltobauta chuckled. “One day, she came back from some adventure in Telluria with a tall tale. She had found a mural saying that the legendary kish people had fled to a flying island thrown into the sky by the Doom.”

Eole’s expression turned into one of pure horror and despair as she realized her people’s secret was already out. Simon guessed that Alcyone must have found a mural piece similar to the one Mastemo excavated in Telluria… at which point she probably couldn’t resist investigating further.

Adventurers couldn’t stop poking their noses everywhere.

“Obviously, I told her that rocks don’t fly and that it was a fairy tale,” Voltobauta explained. “Alcyone bet she could prove there were flying islands out there and I, foolish skeptic that I am, accepted the wager. So she went to the Crafter to commission a special airship she hoped could reach the clouds, boarded it, and then… disappeared. I know for sure she isn’t dead because I can’t contact her soul, but I haven’t heard from her in months. My divinations come up blank too.”

“Maybe this Alcyone simply went elsewhere, or doesn’t want to meet with you,” Eole replied icily. She had taken an immediate dislike to Voltobauta. “Or she is busy somewhere else, far away.”

“I don’t think so,” Voltobauta replied calmly, “See, songbird, the Adventurer has a busted Perk, Fast Travel, that allows them to instantly teleport to any place they have ever visited. She should have visited our hangout spot and rubbed her victory in my face if she had found your floating home.”

Simon’s head perked up with immense interest. Teleportation to any place he had ever visited? No other Class offered something like that outside of high tier spells, except perhaps the Summoner, not even Adventurer Vassals. Obtaining that Perk would trivialize so many issues.

Still, Alcyone was around level seventy according to Shabram’s information, so she was likely out of reach for now… doubly so if she was stranded on a floating archipelago as Voltobauta seemed to believe.

“How does one reach your floating island?” Voltobauta asked Eole. “Endymion would have long learned of its existence if normal airships were enough to reach it.”

“I shall not tell you,” Eole snapped back before turning to Simon for support. “You swore to me word of my people’s Sanctuary wouldn’t spread.”

“And it won’t,” Simon said as he quickly came up with a solution. “Eole can contact her fellow kish from a high enough point and exchange messages. She can simply ask about your friend’s state and location from atop Mount Colt.”

Voltobauta pondered his proposal before nodding. “Alright.”

“Alright?” Eole blinked in surprise, taken aback by his nonchalance. “That’s all?”

Voltobauta scoffed. “Songbird, your boyfriend is the Light-damned Overlord, and he turns anyone who displeases him into golden statues. I haven’t survived this long by picking fights with his kind unless strictly necessary.”

Eole paled. She turned to Simon with a worried look, and turned as silent as a tomb.

“But I offer a warning, songbird,” Voltobauta said. “Three people can keep a secret if two of them are dead, and if the third is the Necromancer. Others will come looking for Alcyone and her Crestone. The rest of the Cobweb already show interest in kish artifacts too. It’s not a question of if someone will find its way to your home, but when. You would be better off picking allies and protectors rather than delaying the inevitable.”

“She has an ally, Necromancer,” Simon replied confidently. “The only one that matters.”

“Fair enough.” Voltobauta locked eyes with Simon. “Are we going to have a problem, Magnos?”

“Only if you get in my way,” Simon replied coldly. “I will seek no quarrel with you so long as you don’t interfere with our affairs, nor the kish’s floating islands. Spread word of the latter and I will stake you.”

“I’ll take my chips and leave the table as soon as your bird sings me the answer I need, then.” Voltobauta hesitated a moment before speaking up again. “Between us, Bert isn’t alive, but he’s not an undead either. I’m the Necromancer, so I can usually sense that… except for him or those smiling gatekeepers. Never happened to me before.”

“The gatekeepers are fairy-crafted fetches,” Simon replied, stroking his chin. “You think Bert is one? He feels too… lifelike for that, and I can sense the Dark in him.”

“I don’t think that man is a hollow shell like those gatekeepers. He’s something else. Something… unnatural.” Voltobauta shrugged his shoulders. “Chrom is an undead for certain, though, and while that Lorean count feels alive to me, my Class’ Perks send me… conflicting opinions. Those three are up to something.”

They’re trying to bind Zodiac Fiends, Simon thought. Of course they were up to no good. “Do you have any idea who the Prince of Spiders might be?”

“No clue, but my gut tells me it’s a shell game,” Voltobauta replied with a wicked grin. “I suspect the Prince is among those Weavers. That clever crook is hiding in plain sight among the council, keeping a finger on his network’s pulse.”

Simon had considered that possibility, though he couldn’t exclude the possibility that the Prince of Spiders might be another party entirely. If it was a shell game, he could simply settle on killing all the Weavers one by one until he found the right one.

Either way, this Voltobauta had proved to be an interesting fellow, and far more reasonable than expected. He might even be a powerful ally if handled with care one day… or a dangerous foe.

“I will take my leave for now,” Voltobauta decided, “Do not tarry, songbird. Being undead does not equal being patient.”

He vanished in a cloud of dark mist without further ado, leaving Simon and Eole alone. The kish bit her lip and took a deep breath full of anxiety.

“Was it true?” she dared to ask. “Did you… turn people into gold?”

“Yes, I did, though all of them were criminals and ruffians who deserved it.” Simon didn’t deny it. “I warned you I would have to do some heinous things to grease the door open, Eole. We cannot win without dirtying our hands.”

Eole remained quiet. While she was a true idealist, she knew as well as he did what she had signed on to, and the kind of organization they were infiltrating.

“Eole.” Simon took her hands into his own. It startled her, but she didn’t pull back. “If you want that bloodsucker dead rather than to take the risk, then I’ll destroy him. It’s as simple as that.”

“No, I…” Eole frowned. “He’s not wrong. Hiding won’t protect us forever, and alone… alone we’ll fall.” She looked away. “I’ll ask my people and… warn them.”

“And then?”

“And then…” She pulled her hands back. “Then we’ll see.”