"Are you the envoys from the Tumistir Sanctuary?" Following Aneer, Panney finally met the legendary Leithman witch, just as described in books—simple robes and a peculiar mask.

"Miuth De'lan, here on behalf of the Sixth Oslow to negotiate with you."

Oslow referred to the leadership hierarchy of the Leithman witches. Being sixth in this hierarchy was quite prestigious. The witch representing the Sixth Oslow appeared to be in her thirties, but her voice was far from pleasant, brimming with arrogance. The gaze from beneath her mask was proud and cold, and Panney could directly sense her unfriendliness towards them.

Not only towards him alone, but the entire squad of holy warriors felt this indifference. Kamajo, maintaining the decorum of a holy knight, stepped forward and bowed respectfully. "Indeed, in the name of Tier's messengers, we extend our greetings to the knowledgeable sisters."

"Oh, we've already received your church's goodwill. Thank you for taking the time to assist us amidst your busy schedules. However, I've always wondered how much strength the righteous messengers still have amidst the snowstorms of the North." The witch spoke coldly. "Supplies have been sent to the town of Shadowgrove. If you have no other business, please leave Leithman as soon as possible."

"Wait." Seeing the witch about to leave, Kamajo frowned. "Don't you need our help?"

"The affairs of Laisserman are within the capabilities of our witches. The supplies you brought have already been of great assistance to us. There's no need for you to shed blood for us," the witch's demeanor was elegant, her words polite, but her impatience was evident in her expression.

"So, you're saying we've come all this way for nothing?" Perhaps sensing the witch's unfriendliness, Sela suddenly interjected, her voice tinged with anger.

"Sela, be quiet!" Camajo scolded, then turned to the witch inquiringly, "Is there something happening in the Witch's Council?"

"This is none of your concern," the witch, Delan, replied with increasing coldness. "We're still busy with the conflict at the Madill Outpost, so we won't continue to entertain you. Goodbye."

With that, she opened a scroll, uttered a few words, and vanished in a flash of light before their eyes.

"Captain, how could she dismiss us like this?" Sela immediately protested as the witch disappeared.

"Patience... the witches of Laisserman have that sort of style," Aniel shrugged, "Detached and aloof, whimsical."

"But, are we really not needed here?" Camajo asked the bard, his expression grim. It was clear that being summoned from afar only to be disregarded would provoke anyone, even if the true incarnation of Tylor had descended.

"Perhaps not," Aniel shrugged again, suddenly grinning mischievously. "Now, we can go to Sessk and take a bath, then discuss other things, like art."

"But the people here still need our help," Sela suddenly clenched her fist, determination shining in her eyes. "They're caught in the midst of turmoil and strife."

"They lack the most basic respect for the messengers of Tylor," Camajo shook his head. Despite the noble education received by the holy knights since childhood, they maintained composure and rarely showed signs of anger. However, his words revealed his irritation, and it was peculiar that they would continue to offer their assistance. "Since they have the ability to resolve the conflict, we should return to Tumis and report."

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"But we haven't investigated the affairs of the Unmindful Church yet," Sela interjected once more.

"We should still return and report. The witches have made it clear that they don't welcome us," Camajo said helplessly.

"But..." Sela was about to say something more when Camajo reached out and patted her head. "You must obey orders, Sela, as a novice knight."

The female knight pouted but remained silent.

As the group of holy knights entered the lodging, Aniel approached the pensive Panni and touched him on the shoulder. "Hey, what are you thinking about?"

"That witch has issues," Panni raised his head, recalling some of the information he had sensed, furrowing his brow.

"Issues? Could she harm us?" Aniel exclaimed in surprise. "That's impossible. While they may have eccentric temperaments, they generally don't plot against others, unlike those lunatics from Serl."

"She doesn't have issues herself, but her actions do..." Panni's frown deepened. "Why would she prevent followers of Tylor from intervening in this civil war?"

"Struggles of faith exist everywhere, even within the Witch's Council. Not everyone there may support receiving assistance from Tylor's followers," the bard yawned indifferently, seeming unconcerned. "Anyway, didn't that girl give you a book just now? You're surprisingly quick to gain access to their inner circle."

"It doesn't matter; that Sela doesn't understand anything," Panni remarked.

"That's exactly why it's good; she'll probably have a bewildered expression when I accidentally stumble upon her while she's bathing, gathering material," the half-elf's face revealed a lecherous expression. "She's likely to make quite an amusing sight."

"Well, there's a greater likelihood that she'll chase after you with her sword, demanding a duel," Panni snorted.

"Regardless, Panni, you must create an opportunity for me. Imagine sinking your teeth into her face, like a freshly ripened peach. It must be a delightful sensation," the bard insisted.

"That's absurd, considering I paid you 200 gold coins and didn't get the expected outcome... Perhaps you should write a poem praising her beauty in front of her and see how she reacts," Panni retorted blandly before walking back to the cabin.

"What an unlovable fellow," Aniel shrugged, looking quite resigned.

The holy knights had decided to withdraw, as staying here was now meaningless. Panni had already decided to leave; he heard the witch mention that there was conflict around Madiel Outpost, so he decided to try his luck there.

...

On the hilltop, two robed women wearing masks stood, one behind the other. Obviously, they were two witches from Letheman, with one of them already familiar. Though she had only spoken a few lines in the previous text, as the first witch to appear, we should remember her name: Mius Delan.

Mius Delan stood behind the other witch, looking very respectful. "Respected Ouslow, should we really reject Tylor's aid?"

"Hmm... Do you have doubts?" the high-ranking witch named "Ouslow" had a low, magnetic voice, but through the eye holes of her mask, one could see that her eyes seemed somewhat stiff.

"I believe that given the current state of affairs, if we don't seek assistance as much as possible, the rebels will soon reach Musantil. At this point, refusing the aid of the holy knights..."

"This is irrelevant," "Ouslow" interjected. "Our rule in this land has faced countless tests, and this time will be no different. Once these cultists of the Outsiders get involved, they'll demand many things. We cannot allow their faith to easily intervene, otherwise the authority of the witches will be questioned. Besides, they are just a few individuals. What impact could they possibly have?"

"Understood," Mius nodded, but the perplexity on her face did not diminish in the slightest. "But why lure them to Madiel Outpost?"

"These fellows are stubborn. They won't leave obediently. Leaving some clues behind, let them experience some hardships at Madiel would be beneficial," "Ouslow" remarked.

"But..." Mius recalled the troubles at Madiel Outpost and couldn't help but furrow her brow. She felt that such tactics seemed not quite righteous. After all, even if they were unwelcome, the holy knights came with good intentions. They shouldn't be manipulated with deceit and schemes... She looked at the back of the sixth Ouslow before her, suddenly feeling a bit estranged.

This wasn't the style of the Letheman Witches' Council.

"Mius, let's go back. There are many matters awaiting our attention."

Well, she was Lady Ouslow after all. Her wisdom was beyond the grasp of a mere novice like me. All I needed to do was obey orders.

With that in mind, Mius humbly lowered her head. "Also, milady, there's a message from Sylvan Town. Several senior Ouslows wish to discuss the situation with you."

"Find an excuse to decline. We are busy," the sixth Ouslow's rigid eyes flickered slightly as she waved her hand dismissively.

"But this is already the sixth notice..."

"I said decline, so we decline. My word is final."

"Yes..."