Release That Witch

Similar to the strange arrangements of the initial boarding, mercenaries carrying wooden spears on their backs divided people into a number of teams. Those in critical condition were carried into the strange wooden buildings for treatment first. Following them were the young people, families with children, then adults, respectively.     

Lucia and Ring were in the first group. The entire treatment process flew by fairly quickly. Blindfolded, she held her sister and walked into the hut with the mercenaries supporting her. Before long, a pill was placed in her hand. The pill was small and slightly sweet. The person at her side told her not to worry, as her sister had already been given her medicine.     

When she left the room and lowered her hood, she was pleasantly surprised to see visible improvement in Ring's complexion. Although she was still in a coma, her forehead was no longer hot, and the flushing on her face had diminished. The dark spots had disappeared without a trace.     

Those who had been freed from the terror of death's door and regained their lives could barely contain themselves. They bent their knees before the gray man off in the distance and rejoiced, giving him the highest respect. They knew from the mercenaries, that this man was the lord in control of the Western Region, His Royal Highness, Roland Wimbledon.     

What they could see matched the rumors. The lord not only lit the bonfire at the pier and boiled meat porridge for the people, but also walked among them speaking. He told them that should they be willing to do things for the town, they could receive remuneration, food, and residence here. Everyone enjoyed the tasty meat porridge, talking amongst themselves that it was fortunate they boarded the western fleet and thanked His Highness for his kindness."     

Only Lucia felt a hint of anxiety.     

Just how would she manage to get in contact with the Witch Union? The information that had been quietly circulating said that there were witches residing in Border Town, but it never mentioned how to find them. Maybe an important part of the information had been lost during transmission. She heard that the news had started in the large cities in the center of the kingdom.     

Once everyone had a full stomach, a few mercenaries led them to a wooden shed near the river. Lucia suddenly heard a woman's voice behind her.     

"What're you looking for?"     

Shocked, she turned her head and jumped two steps forward, prepared to run. Yet when the woman came into sight, Lucia could not help but stand still.     

Heavens, this woman was beautiful. Long curls swaying in the firelight granted her hair a soft orange glow, her eyes shone bright like stars, and a sweet smile was in her mouth corners. However, what was the most noticeable was the temperament she emanated, similar to that of a towering man, no less than a noble.     

"My name is Nightingale. I'm a witch. Welcome to the Western Region."     

Lucia could not help but bow her head at the woman's aura. "I... my name is Lucia White. I wish to join you."     

"Then come with me," said Nightingale, smiling, "I'll take you home."     

By this time, the sun had already set behind the mountains, and the sky gave off only a weak light. Carrying the sleeping Ring, Lucia followed slowly behind her.     

"When did you awaken?" she asked.     

"Awaken?" Lucia was startled.     

"It's the moment when you turned into a witch," said Nightingale, "from then on, your body will continue to converge with magic power. We call this change the awakening."     

"I think... probably two years ago," Lucia recalled. "Is magic the power of the devil?"     

"That's just the rhetoric of the church." She shook her head. "Magic is a power bestowed upon us by the heavens. It has nothing to do with good or evil. The Demonic Torture is the bite from the body full of magic. You can avoid it if you exercise your powers."     

"You mean there's a way to avoid such pain?" Lucia stared with wide eyes.     

"Yes, if there were no church oppression, no witch would ever have to bear the pain of the bite." Nightingale blinked. "But here we're free to use our abilities at home." She pointed behind Lucia. "Is this cute thing your sister? And as for your other family members...?"     

"They're all dead, and only Ring and I escaped." Lucia was silent for a moment. "A group of people attacked Valencia, burning and looting everything. Because my father tried to resist them, they... he was stabbed several times. My mother told us to run and in the end sh-she too..." A long-felt sadness filled her heart with grief, making her unable to speak. All the hardships that they had endured over their passage, the hunger, thirst, fear, all the grievances came gushing out. For the sake of her sister, she gritted her teeth and tried to stay in the moment. But it was like she was unable to stop the wall she had built in her mind from tumbling down, and she burst out in tears. This was no good. The first time you met someone, you were supposed to be elegant, and proper. How was it that she could not stop the tears from flowing?     

Would this make Nightingale dislike her? She felt her tears mixed with snot and her mouth filled with a salty taste. However, to Lucia's surprise, she was suddenly surrounded by a pair of arms, holding her in a warm embrace. Nightingale gently patted the back of her head, showing that she did not mind the mess and tears that covered Lucia's face. Rather, she said warmly, "Cry. It's okay to cry."     

...     

Once Lucia had calmed, she raised her head, only to see Nightingale's shoulders were wet with her tears.     

"I, I'm sorry..." She blushed.     

"It's okay. Do you feel a bit better?" Nightingale took out her handkerchief and helped Lucia wipe her face. With one hand, she held Ring, with the other, Lucia. "Let's go. There're many more sisters waiting for you."     

Lucia had thought that the witches would be housed in abandoned warehouses and basements. She did not expect Nightingale to bring her to the castle district. Was not this the personal domain of the lord? Even more surprising was the fact that the guards waved her in instead of stopping her.     

Could it be that the entire town was under the control of the Witch Cooperation Association?     

On the third floor of the castle, they entered a brightly lit room. She was impressed to find that the man sitting across from her was the well-known lord who had accepted the cheers of the crowds previously.     

"This is the leader of the Witch Union, His Highness Roland Wimbledon. He has taken in the survivors of the Witch Cooperation Association and spread the news throughout the cities, hoping to attract witches who have nowhere to go," said Nightingale, "Border Town is the home to witches. You needn't doubt anything because the person who treated your sister before was actually a witch."     

Lucia's head blanked. She had never thought a noble could accept witches, especially when they were not used as tools or slaves. When she had recovered, she threw a panicked bow in salute. Nightingale could not help but laugh at the strange motion. "Don't worry about it, His Highness pays no heed to such rituals."     

"So, you come from the Eastern Region?" The lord's voice was peaceful and relaxed. It was like he was chatting instead of inquiring.     

Lucia stole a look at the man who sat in an oddly relaxed way with his face full of interest.     

"Yes..."     

With the deepening of the conversation and Nightingale's explanation, her mood gradually softened. Although Roland was a noble, he did not have an aggressive attitude. Rather, it was an attitude similar to one caring for their elders.     

"So, it seems that when you awakened two years ago, you aren't yet an adult..." he said with interest, "What's your ability, then?"     

"To return an item to its original form." Lucia hesitated. "But it doesn't work for everything."     

"Original form?" The lord touched his chin, and pushed an elegant cup across the table. "Can you show me?"     

"It'll destroy it."     

"It doesn't matter."     

Lucia nodded, went to the table, and placed her hands on top of the cup.     

Soon, the cup began to shrink. It became deformed, and ultimately separated into three unique substances. The far left one looked like a pool of oil, dark and thick. The middle was a small cluster of black powder. And on the right sat a puddle of water, slowly flowing across the table.     

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