Release That Witch

After all the chaos today, Roland no longer had any mood to assemble the steam boring machine. Instead, he ordered the cook to prepare a particularly luxurious dinner and serve unlimited plates of black pepper steaks and fried eggs. It was enough to stuff Anna and Lightning silly. Even Nana, who tried her best to maintain a proper etiquette, had her lips stained with grease at the end of their dinner. Roland also asked the maids to place stewed shredded pork and wheat porridge in the insulated porcelain and send it to Nightingale's chamber to make sure that the food was still warm whenever they woke up.     

Once dinner was settled, it was time to decide their accommodations. Fortunately, the previous lord was a pompous person and had his castle built in the standards of a medium-sized town, despite only governing over a budding town. To describe it in Roland's terms, it was a three-story villa with an executive suite, equipped with towers at its four corners. Coupled with a parvis and a garden in the backyard, the castle covered an area of 900 square meters.     

He arranged for Lightning to stay in the chamber opposite Anna's. The next one was left for Wendy after her recovery. When he saw Nana sticking to Anna like a piece of sticky candy as they entered the chamber, Roland could not help laughing and shaking his head.     

Roland poured himself some ale after returning to his office. The change in plans was swifter than he had expected. He had expected that Nightingale would bring him more witches that would help him strengthen all branches of technology, such as chemistry, agriculture, and biology. But he had underestimated the hostility that the leader of Witch Cooperation Association harbored against nobles. Witches who were neutral, like Nightingale and Lightning, were rare exceptions. As for Wendy, Lightning explained she had no intention to leave the Witch Cooperation Association. But after Wendy was attacked by the Snake Witch Cara while trying to rescue Nightingale, she was forced to.     

[If there are only two witches, then so be it,] Roland thought, as he knocked back his ale. [It's better than having none.]     

During the dinner, Roland had inquired about Lightning and Wendy's abilities. He learned that Lighting had the ability to fly like a bird, while Wendy had the power to manipulate the wind. These abilities, Roland believed, would contribute little to the development of technology. However, they would be a great help in the upcoming war if used wisely.     

Moreover, he found out that the powers of the other witches at the camp were varied and random. He could still come up with scientific explanations for some of those powers, but the rest was completely inconceivable.     

Take the leader of the Witch Cooperation Association, the Snake Witch Cara, as an example. She could condense her magic power and mold them into snakes. The snakes were not only tangible but also aggressive. The different snakes carried different venoms. As far as Lightning's knowledge went, those venoms were enough to either paralyze or kill.     

However, be it Anna or Cara, witches' powers were confined to a close fight. Anna's green fire could only reach as far as five meters, while Cara's snakes would lose their power if they strayed too far from their master. Nightingale and Lightning's powers were even more restricted—they were effective only through physical contact.     

Thus, facing the army of the church equipped with crossbow bolts and God's Stone of Retaliation, all they could do was to scatter and run.     

Having spent most of the night in his office, the flame in the hearth gradually dimmed as it reached midnight. Roland sneezed and was about to go to bed.     

When he opened the door, something unusual caught his sight—like the last time, he saw a girl sitting by his bedside. Half of her figure was enveloped in darkness, her shadow reflected on the wall like a mural. But it was different this time. Instead of her usual robes, she was dressed casually. And unlike the first time he met her, he now knew her face enough to tell who she was at a glance.     

It was Nightingale.     

Roland became nervous. Could it be that his good fortune was here?     

Noticing the prince's entry, Nightingale stood up and walked over to him. She had recovered a lot in the brief time she had rested. Rosiness took over the paleness in her cheeks, and her hair had recovered its shine. He had to admit that the ability of witches to heal themselves was extraordinary.     

"You've suffered." Roland coughed, breaking the silence. "Why don't you take more rest? I've heard everything from Lightning."     

Nightingale shook her head.     

Roland could tell something was off, for her face was solemn and her eyes were full of indescribable persistence. The resoluteness that was rare even on a man's face made Roland realize that she seemed to have made a decision. He hid his other emotions and waited for her to speak.     

Yet Nightingale remained quiet. She drew a deep breath and kneeled, raising her dagger in her palms above her lowered head. This was the greeting manner of knights and nobles who wanted to pledge their fealty to their superior.     

"Prince Roland Wimbledon, I swear an oath to you in the name of Nightingale and Veronica," she said bluntly. "As long as you treat witches well, I swear to serve you, whether as a shield against demons, or as a blade piercing the darkness. I swear my loyalty from this day to the end of my life, without fear and regret."     

[I see,] Roland thought. [After the Witch Cooperation Association disappointed her, she's hoping I would lead the witches.] As a time traveler, Roland ought to reject her. He preferred working together via employment or partnership, or even better, comradeship with the same dreams and ambitions.     

Yet he knew it was pointless to harp on equality and freedom. Without soil suitable for growth, planting seeds was a worthless act. As a prince, he could never deviate from his aristocracy before he united the entire kingdom.     

After a moment of silence, Roland took the dagger and tapped her shoulder three times with the flat side of the sword. "I accept your fealty."     

Nightingale's shoulders trembled slightly, as if she could finally relax.     

Roland reached out his right hand to her.     

Nightingale took his hand and kissed it gently. Thus, the accolade came to an end.     

Although it was strange for a witch to swear her loyalty, Nightingale's ability to do so showed that she was at least not lowborn. She had even mentioned the name Veronica... "Is that your true name? Without your family name?" Roland asked, pulling her up.     

"Yes, Your Highness. I don't mean to hide it from you. I left the Gilen Family five years ago and have nothing to do with them since," Nightingale answered calmly. She had let down the last of her walls around Roland and gave him a brief explanation of her past.     

She was born in Silver City, named after the silver mine there. Her father was a viscount while her mother was a lowborn. Though such a marriage was uncommon, they lived a happy life together. Nightingale had a younger brother named Hyde. She grew up in Silver City, where she spent the happiest time of her life.