Chapter 1005: A Letter from the Desert
“Achoo!”
Lorgar sat up and immediately regretted it. The sides of her skull throbbed in slow, reliable pulses. She ran her tongue across her teeth — strawberry liquor, still faintly present, a sweet ghost of bad judgment.
Hangover. Again.
She’d been like this ever since the war ended.
She blamed the chief. Roland Wimbledon. Entirely his fault.
The witches who’d fought had all been paid — some thirty dollars, some over a hundred. Lorgar had received thirty-five, which converted to around a hundred gold royals. Rewarding warriors after a campaign was normal; the Mojin clans ran on that logic. Fighters bet their lives in holy duels for the glory and for what came after. The desert was tight with resources, and strength was how you earned your share.
But the Witch Union had done something unexpected with the money: they’d celebrated together.
Every evening after lessons, the castle hall filled with noise and food and laughter — witches eating off each other’s plates, passing Chaos Drinks down the table. Andrea had started it. She’d received the largest reward and had immediately spent it buying things to share. She organized parties the way most people organized breathing: automatically, without apparent effort.
Lorgar had known she was spending freely. She hadn’t known how freely until she counted the receipts.
She couldn’t stop herself, though. Couldn’t explain why. In the Mojin Clan, Divine Ladies were honored from a distance — each one the emblem of a different clan, eyes always watchful across the circle when they gathered, fingers near weapons even at feasts. Friendship was the one thing rank couldn’t buy in the desert. But here, the witches had simply offered it, and she’d accepted before she understood what she was accepting.
The card games had started as a workaround for the Chaos Drinks. Too expensive to order freely, so Andrea had proposed a rule: winners got Chaos Drinks, losers got white liquor. No magic powers. God’s Stone in each player’s hand.
The end result: catastrophe.
Lorgar patted her cheeks firmly. No. This was done. She’d come to Neverwinter to sharpen herself — to learn to fight better, to close the distance between who she was and who she was supposed to become. The God’s Punishment Witches never touched the parties. They moved through the castle with a quietness that felt earned, each gesture calibrated, no motion wasted. That was what a seasoned warrior looked like.
She pulled on a sweater, got off the bed, and resolved to visit the Third Border City after washing up.
Then she noticed the folded parchment wedged under the living room door.
She picked it up.
Her father’s handwriting — untidy as always, angular letters pressed too hard into the paper. Familiar enough to make her chest do something involuntary.
Her tail began to move.
Dear daughter, how are you doing in Neverwinter? I hope no one is giving you trouble.
Unlike northern letters, which padded their openings with protocol for three paragraphs, this simply began.
“How can I be bullied? I’m not three years old,” she muttered.
Haha. Wrong question. You’re Lorgar Burnflame, Princess of the Wildflame Clan. Nobody bullies you — you bully others. Am I right?
Our clan has moved from Iron Sand City to Port of Clearwater. We have land near the river. Good soil. I don’t know how the chief treats you, but he’s kept his word to us — what he promised during the holy duel, he delivered. With work available, people can eat and clothe themselves. So more clans have been coming, though this has created some friction over resources.
But the northerners are different from the Queen of Clearwater. They prohibit personal brawls and insist on legal resolution. Slow, but fair — at least we aren’t being played. Most of the Sand Nation have agreed to this way of settling things. It’s peaceful, generally.
Beyond rebuilding the port, we’ve been developing farmland in the suburbs. The wheat from the river trade. People from Fallen Dragon Ridge came to teach us irrigation, fertilization, crop timing. It’s remarkable how easily northerners sustain themselves. What we harvest from an oasis with great effort, they produce in quantity from a field. Everyone is starting to live like a northerner now. I don’t say this is bad. I just feel something missing when we no longer need to hunt, or train, or prove ourselves. Do you have any idea what to do about this loss, my daughter?
Lorgar twitched her lips. “You should be asking my brother that.”
Now, about you. If — only if — the chief treats you well, you might consider finding an opportunity to express interest in serving him personally. I’ve heard northern nobles appreciate variety…
She rolled her eyes.
Alright, alright. Paws in. A joke. What I actually want is simpler: your growth. Have you encountered any of those terrible enemies yet? You should be stronger than when you left. Stay patient. Focus. Move toward your goal a step at a time.
Her cheeks burned.
She had encountered demons. There had been a full-scale battle. She had contributed nothing.
The front line had felt like the right placement — close to the enemy, directly in the path of the assault. But the demons had halted three hundred meters short, and a stone pillar had come spinning out of nowhere and forced her to retreat. The Artillery Battalion at the rear had at least gotten to fire their cannons. She had gotten a bruised shoulder and a lesson in her own limitations.
And the firearms the chief had made for her — powerful, certainly. But they weren’t an extension of herself the way her wolf-body was. She couldn’t find the seam between the weapon and her instincts. The shots felt borrowed.
Now add the carousing, and her discipline report was an embarrassment.
She pressed the letter flat against her palm and read the final paragraph.
One more thing — there’s a disturbance in Iron Sand City. Word is the larger clans there aren’t happy about so many people leaving the Silver Stream Oasis. I don’t know the details. Whether to tell the chief is your call. If he’s been treating you poorly over your looks, use this as leverage. Make him worry a little.
She didn’t need to think about it.
She folded the letter, tucked it away, and walked out of the room.
Wendy was at the end of the hallway.
Lorgar went straight to her and bowed. “Could you take me to His Majesty? I have something to report.”
“Excellent timing.” Wendy’s smile carried something secret. “He wants to see you too. Come on.”
Chapter 1005: A Letter from the Desert
Translator: TransN Editor: TransN
“Achoo!”
When Lorgar got out of her warm bed, she felt a dull, throbbing pain on both sides of her head. She smacked her lips, still able to taste the remnant flavor of the strawberry liquor between her teeth.
“Looks like… I’m having a hangover again.”
“Aw…”
An almost inaudible moan escaped her lips.
Lorgar had been like this ever since she had returned from the war.
She blamed the chief, Roland Wimbledon for all of her misery.
All the witches who had participated in the war were well rewarded for their services. Some had received dozens of dollars while some received over a hundred dollars. Lorgar had received a remuneration of 35 dollars, which equated to around 100 gold royals.
It was common to reward soldiers and warriors after a war. Mojin warriors were willing to bet their lives on a holy duel not only because of the fame and glory the fight would bring to them but also because of the huge rewards they would receive afterward. Since the desert was always short of resources, the competition for food was fierce. To live a better life, the Mojins had to constantly fight for it.
But the members of the Witch Union viewed their rewards in a completely different way.
Every night after the learning session was over, the castle hall would be filled with noise and laughter.
As the witches now had excessive money to squander, they spent it lavishly on food and shared the food with the others. Andrea was particularly fond of organizing parties as she had received the greatest reward. In fact, she was the person who first started the tradition of carousing and revelry.
Lorgar had to admit that those pretty sheets of paper were magical. She didn’t realize how much she had spent until she actually tallied up the numbers. It was seriously a huge amount.
But she just couldn’t help it…
It was the first time the wolf girl had such an intimate relationship with her peers. After joining the Witch Union, she had soon been accepted by the other witches. Lorgar was quite flattered by their offers of friendship. Although witches were treated as Divine Ladies among the Mojin Clan and were highly respected by most clansmen, Divine Ladies rarely bonded among each other, because each of them represented different rival clans. They would keep a vigilant eye on each other when they met, and certainly would not dine or drink like friends.
Although none of the witches were tight on money, they could still not afford to have too many Chaos Drinks. Therefore, Andrea proposed a resolution through card games. The winner would have Chaos Drinks while the loser White Liquor. No magic was allowed, and those who participated in the game had to hold a God’s Stone in their hand…
The end result—she ended up with a terrible hangover.
Lorgar would never admit the fault to be her own bad luck. So, she attributed everything to the chief.
Had Roland rewarded them with gold royals instead of paper bills, she would have saved up instead of spending them so recklessly.
“No, this has to stop.”
The wolf girl patted her cheeks.
She kept reminding herself that the purpose of this trip was to polish her combat skills. If she continued to indulge herself in endless parties and games, she would forget all her fighting techniques.
Lorgar had never seen any of the God’s Punishment Witches abandon themselves to worldly pleasure. They were always so dignified, solemn and self-possessed. That was what a seasoned warrior should look like!
Lorgar took a deep breath, pulled on a sweater and got off the bed. She planned to visit the Third Border City after brushing her teeth and washing her face.
Every single witch in the Third Border City was an excellent warrior. Since Lorgar was not allowed to leave the city alone, she thought it a good idea to learn some combat techniques from the God’s Punishment Witches.
Just as Lorgar walked out of her bedroom, she noticed a piece of parchment wedged underneath the living room door.
After she had joined the Witch Union, she had moved to the Witch Building in the Castle District and shared a room with Sharon. However, most of the time she had the whole room to herself because Sharon only spent the nights in the building when necessary.
So she assumed this piece of parchment was for her.
Lorgar picked up the paper with curiosity and found it was a letter. She unsealed it and noticed it was her father’s handwriting.
“My dear daughter, how are you doing in Neverwinter? I hope you aren’t being bullied there.”
Unlike the letters from the northern kingdom that always started with a long opening, her father’s letter was simple and straightforward. The handwriting was as untidy as usual. Lorgar, however, felt a sense of belonging as she read the letter, as if she was back in the desert again.
Her tail began to wag excitedly behind her.
Although Lorgar had been determined to not rely on her family anymore when she had departed her clan, she felt happy to know that somebody was still worried about her.
“How can I be bullied? I’m not a three year old!” Lorgar mumbled.
She continued to read the letter. “Haha, I think I asked the wrong question. You’re Lorgar Burnflame, Princess Lorgar of the Wildflame Clan. Nobody can bully you, only you can bully others. Am I right?”
“Our clansmen have moved to the Port of Clearwater from Iron Sand City. We’ve got a piece of fertile land close to the river. Although I don’t know how well the chief treats you, at least he has kept his word to us. He did what he promised during the holy duel. As long as we have a job, we can remain fed and clothed. Therefore, there have been more clans coming here, though it has also created some unpleasant disputes over resources.”
“But those northerners are different from the Queen of Clearwater. They prohibit any brawls for personal reasons and insist on resorting to legal measures. The process is slow but at least we aren’t being used. Many of the Sand Nation have agreed to resolve their problems in this way, so overall, life here is peaceful.”
“Apart from rebuilding the Port of Clearwater, our clan has also developed many farmlands in the suburb. We’re planning to grow the wheat shipped through the inner river. Many people from Fallen Dragon Ridge came here to teach us how to dig a trench, fertilize the land and grow crops. I have to admit it’s so easy for the northerners to sustain themselves. They can easily grow the food we have to go through so much pain to collect from the oasis, and they grow so much surplus. Now, everyone has begun to live like a northerner. I’m not saying it isn’t good, but I just feel something is missing
when we no longer need to hunt or train ourselves to be strong. My dear daughter, do you have any good idea to make up for this loss?”
“You should be asking my elder brother this question.” Lorgar twitched her lips and continued to read.
“Now about you. If… I say, if the chief treats you well, you should find an opportunity to express your desire to serve him. I’ve heard northern nobles like a variety of girls. Perhaps he’s that kind of person…”
The wolf girl rolled her eyes.
“Alright. Paws in. I’m just joking. Compared to that, I’m more concerned about your personal development. Have you encountered any of those horrible enemies? You should have become a lot stronger than when you left, right? Remember though, that you should always remain patient. Focus, and slowly work toward your goal.”
Lorgar felt her cheeks flush red. She almost died of mortification.
Lorgar really had encountered the demons. There had even been a big war between them, to which she had contributed nothing. She had thought the front line would be the closest to the enemies, yet the demons had stopped somewhere 300 meters away from their encampment. As a result, instead of getting a closer look at her opponents, Lorgar had been attacked by a weird flying stone pillar and forced to retreat.
If she had known this would happen, she would have never chosen to stay at the front. The Artillery Battalion at the rear had, at least, got a chance to have a real battle.
In addition to this, she was also not accustomed to using the special firearms the chief specially made for her. They were powerful indeed but were, essentially, something external that could not help her improve herself. Meanwhile, she had a hard time controlling the weapons, so it was difficult for her to blend them in with her actual combat skills.
The recent carousing further made Lorgar ashamed of her lack of selfdiscipline.
She had an impulse to visit the Third Border City right away, but stopped as she read the last paragraph of the letter.
The wolf girl frowned as she read.
“Right, I’m having a little problem. I’ve got news that Iron Sand City is a little disturbed these days. It appears the big clans living there aren’t very happy about so many people leaving the Silver Stream Oasis, although I don’t know the details. It’s up to you to whether to report this to the chief. If he is discriminating against you because of your appearance, you should give him something to worry about as a way of retaliation, shouldn’t you?”
Lorgar did not even need to think it over.
She put away the letter and pushed the door open. Just as she was about to set out for the castle, she spotted Wendy at the other end of the hallway.
Lorgar walked up to her and made a curt bow. “Could you take me to His Majesty? I have something to report to him.”
“Such good timing,” Wendy said, chuckling and winking. “His Majesty wants to see you too. Follow me.”