Everyone in No-Door Bar, New York's famous gathering place for witches, wore a furrowed brow, casting sidelong glances at every customer who had just entered. Unlike after Stephen Strange became Sorcerer Supreme and lost control over the magical world, the current Sorcerer Supreme held an extraordinarily intimidating sway over it. Since that order had been issued, traffic at No-Door Bar, a gathering place in a gray area, had fallen by at least half. Most of the wild spellcasters who still dared come here had registered themselves.
Though these customers were not all highly skilled wizards, they had caught the scent of the coming storm and unrest in the magical world. Thus, when Salomon entered No-Door Bar, several wild spellcasters he had met and knew immediately gathered around him, trying to pry out information—Count Kouzi of Siberia shoved his way to the front with his heavy body odor and brawny frame. "This is a manly young fellow," he told the others, pointing at Salomon. "You'd never guess it, but I watched him grow up. Back then, he was this tiny, only as tall as a finger. Now he's taller than me. It must be because he learned my training methods—winter swimming, wrestling wild boars, uprooting trees barehanded... You pansies definitely couldn't do any of that."
"Merlin's beard! Count Kouzi, we don't care why you're so huge. Ask the important question already!"
"All right, all right." Count Kouzi nodded unhappily. "Kid, we all want to know what's going on with the Sorcerer Supreme's order! It's not that we're unwilling to obey the Venerable One's command, but it came completely out of nowhere. Did the Venerable One foresee some great disaster? Don't look at me like that. The locals call me a Prophet, but I can't prophesy a thing."
"We all know that,"