Roland swallowed the last piece of fried egg from his breakfast, took a napkin and wiped his mouth before saying, “So you are saying that you are worried that the Witch Cooperation Association will hear the news that the witch did not die and hence will try to rescue her?”
“It is as your Highness has said,” Barov stomped angrily as he exclaimed, “If the prisoner had died it would be bad enough, but now she is still alive! If those witches are even crazy enough to steal babies on the chance they might become future comrades, how far do you think they’d go for someone who has already become a minion of the devil? With how recklessly they behave, attempting a rescue wouldn’t be surprizing.”
Roland was confused, he had always felt that there was something amiss about this situation. Why were the Assistant Minister and the Knight Commander so scared of witches?
The woman who should have been hanged was a witch, right? The woman who was so thin it was as if she would fall down when the wind blew? If she really had such a terrible power, why would she need to stand there and wait for death? No, she would not. According to the preaching of the church, she was the devil incarnate, to be executed without trial. Even the army would need to pay a hefty price when going against a witch. However, this “devil” was caught by the normal townspeople of this border town, was tortured, even fitted with a noose, but until now they had not seen a trace of that supposed terrible power.
“How did she get caught?” Roland queried.
“I heard that when the North Mine collapsed, in order to escape, she exposed her identity as a witch and was then captured by angry villagers.” Barov answered.
Roland thought as he listened to Barov, Why do I have the impression that this happened the day before my reincarnation?
“How did she expose herself?” The prince asked aloud.
“I, well… I am not sure,” the assistant minister shook his head and said, “the situation was very confusing, it could be that someone saw her using witchcraft.”
Roland frowned as he asked, “you did not thoroughly investigate the situation?”
“Your Highness, to resume mining was the priority,” the assistant minister protested, “The revenue from that iron mine accounts for half of the production of this town, and the guards confirmed that someone at the scene was killed by witchcraft.”
“What kind of witchcraft?” Roland asked, interested.
“The head and a large part of the body were spread out on the ground as if they were melted. The corpse looked like a used up candle,” the minister said with a look of disgust. “Your Highness, be glad you didn’t see such a scene.”
Roland started playing with a silver fork thoughtfully. Historically, most of the victims of the inquisitionwitch hunt were innocent, tools for the church to maintain control over the populace or possibilities for ignorant townspeople to vent their anger. Sure, a small part of the accused caused their own downfall. The kind of people dressed that oddly while mixing together all sorts of strange material, claiming that they could predict the future and knew the conclusion of life and death.
The truth was those people did figure out some tricks, such as the use of chemical reactions, but then they used that to claim that they had gained the power of the gods.
To modern eyes, these were just some simple chemistry tricks, but in medieval times, those could easily be misrepresented as incredible phenomenon.
As for melting people, the first thing Roland thought of was an acid solution.
But it would be a hassle to prepare those kinds of things, and you would also need to thoroughly soak the body with it, but it wouldn’t look like a burned down candle, as for other methods they were out of the question.
Then how did she do it?
If she relied on alchemy, and that was rare, maybe…
Roland thought until there and then said in a determined tone, “Take me to see her.”
The Assistant Minister was shocked for a moment before spluttering, “Sir, you want to see the witch?” Barov stood up in panic, knocked over the cup with the milk which he hadn’t drunk.
“Yes, this is a command.” Roland said looked back and smiled at the assistant minister, he was now really thankful for the fourth prince’s unreasonable style.
Roland went over to the door but suddenly paused, asking, “Right, I have to ask, why would we use the gallows?”
“What?” Barov said.
Roland reiterated his question, “Why would she be hanged? Shouldn’t witches be burned at the stake?”
Barov face seemed puzzled as he asked, “Isn’t it true? But she is not afraid of fire.”
*
The dungeon was small, this barren land could not afford to have too many prisoners. Most criminals would face trial after a few days and either be released or killed.
In addition to Barov, the Prince was entering the dungeon with the Knight Commander, the prison warden, and two guards.
The dungeon had a total of four levels and the walls were built out of hard granite blocks. It was Roland’s first time being at this kind of place and he noted the deeper he got, the narrower the hallway became.The number of cells was also reduced. He thought they probably they dug a pit in the form of an inverted cone first, and then build layer after layer out of stone.
This rough project would of course not have a good drainage system. The ground was wet and the muddy sewage was flowing down the stairs, down to the last floor.
Obviously, the witch was at the bottom of the dungeon. Each layer they went down, the stench in the air became thicker.
“Your Highness, you are risking too much by doing this, even though she is sealed with God’s Locket of Retribution, it isn’t safe.”
It was Carter who had spoken. As soon as he knew that the prince was planning on visiting the witch, he immediately went after the prince, advising him all along the road to stop going over. But it was all for naught, even the repeating the direct command of the king not to engage in any dangerous situations had no effect. Obviously, he wasn’t only a pretty face, he was also a chatterbox. After being subjected to this for some time, Roland only wished that someone would sew his mouth up. “You must look evil in the eye before you face it on the battlefield and stand toe to toe.I thought you knew that.” he said.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“In addition to fighting the evil with courage, it is also important to assess one’s capabilities and act accordingly; reckless behavior is not considered courageous.” Carter rebutted.
“You mean to say that if you ran into an enemy weaker than you, you hold justice, but if he is stronger than you, you will turn a blind eye?” Roland challenged.
“No, Your Highness, I mean …” Carter stammered.
“Before you were already afraid of a witch raid, and now you are even afraid to see a little girl, my Knight Commander is indeed fearsome.”
Although the knight was a good speaker, he didn’t excel at debate, encountering a smooth talker like Roland he completely lost. Taking advantage of this effort, the group reached the bottom of the dungeon.
This floor was many times smaller than the one above, with a total of only two cells. The warden lit the torches on the walls and as the darkness faded, Roland saw the hunched over witch in a corner of her cell.
It was already late autumn and the temperature in the dungeon was low enough to make people see white fog when they took a breath. He wore a fur coat with silk lining inside, so did not feel cold, but the girl only wore coarse linen that couldn’t even fully cover her body with her arms and feet sticking out and turning blue.
The suddenly lit up torches made her cringe away with her eyes closed. But soon, she was able to open her eyes and looked straight at them.
It was a pair of pale blue eyes, like a calm lake before the onset of heavy rains. There was no fear on the witch’s face and you couldn’t see any anger or hatred. Roland saw a vision, it was as if what he saw in front of him was not a weak little girl. Instead, it appeared as if he was in front of a raging flame. He suddenly felt that the torch light from the walls was a little dim.
The girl tried to stand up while leaning against the wall, in slow-motion as if afraid to fall. But in the end, she ultimately stood up and hobbled her way out of the corner, allowing the light to cover her.
Already such a simple movement, yet it made his men suck in several breaths of cold air as they even retreated two steps back, only the Knight Commander could resist and stood in front of Roland.
“What is your name?” Roland asked the witch and patted the knight on the shoulder, indicating that he did not need to be so nervous.
“Anna,” she replied.
"Can you clearly describe what happened when the mine collapsed?" Roland asked.
Anna nodded and began talking.
Roland was surprised because he expected her to stay silent or to angrily curse at him, but she responded to all of his questions cooperatively.
It wasn’t a complicated story. Anna’s father was a miner and was working when the mine collapsed. Immediately after they heard about the accident, Anna and the other miners’ families went to rescue their loved ones. The North Slope Mine area was rumored to be an abandoned monster lair with many forked pathways extending in all directions. Since the volunteers were all acting on their own accord, they separated at the mine entryway, and only Anna’s neighbors Susan and Ansgar were by her side when she found her father.
Her father’s leg was crushed under a cart filled with ore, rendering him motionless, but at his side was another miner patting him down for money. When the looter saw them, he rushed at Ansgar with a pick and knocked him to the ground, but as he was about to strike her, Anna killed him first.
Anna’s neighbors vowed to keep her secret and helped Anna rescue her father. However, early next morning, Anna’s father went out on his crutches and reported to the patrolling guards that his daughter was a witch.
"Why?" Roland couldn't help but ask.
Barov sighed and answered, "Probably he could receive a reward. Discovering and reporting a witch can get you 25 gold royals. For a man with a crippled leg, 25 gold royals would take care of him for the rest of his life."
After a moment of silence, Roland asked, "Your opponent was a strong adult man, so how were you able to kill him?"
Anna laughed, and the flames of the torches began shaking like waves on a lake surface.
"Just as you think, I used the power of the devil," Anna said.
"Shut up! Vile sorceress!" shouted the prison warden, but everyone could hear his voice trembling.
"Is that true? I want to see it," Prince Roland said unwaveringly,
"Your Highness, this is no laughing matter!" The Chief Knight interjected as he furrowed his brows.
Roland stepped out from behind his knight and walked towards the cell. "If anyone is afraid of her, I won’t ask them to stay here."
"Don’t panic, she has a ‘God’s Locket of Retribution’ around her neck!" shouted Barov to comfort everyone, but probably mostly himself. "No matter how powerful the devil is, he cannot overcome God’s protection."
Roland stood in front of the cell bars, an arm’s length away from Anna, and could clearly see her dusty and bruised face. Her soft facial features showed that she still was a minor, but her expression contained no trace of childlike innocence. There wasn’t even anger in her face, giving her an unsettling feeling Roland had only seen on TV. It was the face of a wandering orphan who had suffered from poverty and hunger, but it was also not exactly the same. Those children always stood with a bent and broken body and a lowered head in front of cameras, but Anna did not.
Up until now, she had tried to stand straight with her vision raised and calmly looked into the prince’s eyes. "She does not fear death," Roland realized, "and she is waiting for death."
"Is this the first time you have seen a witch, my lord? Your curiosity might get you killed," Anna said.
"If you really had the devil’s power, you would be able to kill with a glance," Roland responded. "If that were true, it is not I who should fear death, but your father."
The prison torches suddenly dimmed, which was definitely not an illusion, as the flames seemed to be smothered into small sparks. Roland heard the panting and prayers of the men behind him, as well as the thuds of people who had tripped while trying to run away.
Roland’s heartbeat sped up and he felt that he was at the border between two worlds. On one side was the world of common sense, which was in exact accordance with the laws and constants that he knew. On the other side was an incredible new world, which was full of mystery and the unknown. He was standing in front of this world.
"Was the thing around her neck God’s Locket of Retribution? What a simple and crude locket," Roland thought. It was a red iron chain with a sparkling and translucent pendant, which seemed easy to destroy if the witch hadn’t been handcuffed.
Roland glanced at the crowd behind him, who were still mouthing prayers in panic. He quickly reached into the cell, grabbed the pendant, and tugged on the locket, snapping the chain—the move startled even Anna.
"Come on." Roland whispered.
"Are you actually a liar, some type of alchemist, or a real witch? If you take out bottles and jars and start compounding acids, I will be disappointed," Roland thought.
Roland then heard a crackling sound, the noise of water vapor expanding in heat. Their surroundings began to heat up rapidly, and the water on the ground was turning into steam.
Roland saw a blazing flame rise from beneath Anna, and the ground she was standing on was set on fire. The torches behind them exploded at once, as if they had received pure oxygen, giving off a blinding light. At that moment, the whole cell was as bright as day, causing the onlookers’ terrified screams.
As the witch moved forward, the flames surrounding her moved with her. When she came to the edge of her cell, the iron bars that made up the wall became pillars of fire.
Roland backed up instinctively from the biting and painful heat. In just a few seconds, he felt that he was back in summertime, but this was a different kind of heat, which was solely generated by a flame, rather than an enveloping summer heat. One side of his body was facing the flame’s heat, and the other side was still chilly. Roland could even feel cold sweat trickling down his back.
"She really does not fear fire," Roland thought.
Roland remembered the Assistant Minister’s words. Only now did he really understand what he meant.
If she is an actual flame, how could she fear herself?
Soon, the iron bars turned from crimson to a light yellow and began to melt. This meant that they were being heated to over 1,500 degrees Celsius, a temperature that seemed practically impossible to Roland to achieve without insulating measures. Like the others, he backed away from the cell, holding himself firmly against the furthest wall.
If he had not done this, the heat of the melting iron would cause his clothes to combust even without direct contact—even Anna’s clothes were reduced to ashes and replaced with a ball of flames.
After what seemed like eternity, the flames disappeared.
All that was left were a couple torches quietly burning on the wall as if nothing had happened, but Anna’s burned clothes, the hot air, and the twisted prison bars all proved that this wasn’t an illusion.
Besides Roland and the Chief Knight, the other men had all collapsed to the ground, and the prison warden was so scared that he soiled his pants. Anna now stood naked outside the cell, and her arm shackles were gone. She did not hide her naked body, her hands hanging naturally at her side and her blue eyes appearing as peaceful as before.
"Now that I have satisfied your curiosity, my Lord," she said, "can you kill me now?"
"No." Roland stepped forward, wrapped his coat around her, and said with a forcedly gentle tone, "Miss Anna, I want to hire you."