Chapter 127: Wendy

When Roland’s breathing had slowed and steadied, Nightingale straightened his quilt over an exposed arm, stood watching him for a moment in the dark, then slid down through the floor into her own room.

Wendy was sitting up in bed with a book, and looked at her over the top of it with an expression that could have been irritation or relief or some combination of the two.

“You’re not asleep,” Nightingale said.

“I was afraid you’d do something foolish.” Wendy set the book down. “He’s not a child, Veronica. Does he really need you watching him sleep?”

“Someone sent word about the witches’ safe haven. Until we know who received it and what they intend, his room is the only place I know is clear.” Nightingale began removing the pieces of her working clothes — the red belt, the leather wrist guards, the body armor, the white hooded coat Roland had designed. She hung each piece carefully over the chair and smoothed out the folds.

“There are sisters in the castle,” Wendy said. “There are guards on every corridor. And I know you put a Stone under his pillow.”

“That I won’t apologize for.”

Wendy made a sound that was not quite a sigh. “Veronica—”

“I know.” She lay down on the bed and turned toward Wendy in the dark. “We are witches. I know.”

And His Royal Highness has said he will marry a witch, she thought. Out of his own mouth. And it wasn’t a lie.

She kept that to herself. It felt too fragile to say aloud, and Wendy didn’t need another reason to worry. Instead she asked, “What do you think of the Church?”

Wendy went still the way she went still before she said something difficult. “Why do you ask?”

“The High Priest came to the Stronghold while I was there. He offered Roland support — pills, material aid — in exchange for churches in every territory he governs. Roland refused.” She paused. “He said nine of ten sentences were lies.”

“He refused.” The tension in Wendy’s voice loosened, just slightly. “Thank God.”

“He thinks the Church’s true aim is to use any war as exhaustion — bleed every faction down and let the Church emerge with all the institutions still intact.” Nightingale watched the ceiling. “There was also something else.” She described the pills, and Nightingale’s observation of them in the fog — the threads of nothingness, the resemblance to a God’s Stone.

Wendy was quiet for a long time after that. “I lived in a monastery once,” she said finally.

“I remember. You’ve mentioned it.”

“I haven’t told you everything.” Another silence. When Wendy spoke again, her voice had settled into the particular evenness of someone who has decided to say something and is saying it as cleanly as possible. “There were three kinds of girls in the monastery. Some of us had been there since early childhood — I was one of those, I don’t know my origins. Some were orphans adopted from the streets and sent there by the local church. Some were sold by their families.”

Nightingale said nothing.

“We were sorted by age and taught in stages. Literacy until ten, then carols and ceremony through fourteen. After fourteen came etiquette. The nuns called the stages literacy class, choir class, ceremony class. When a girl became an adult, she was sent away.” Wendy’s hands were folded on top of the blanket with a stillness that looked practiced. “In my first years, I used to hear screaming at night. From the direction of the older classes. I didn’t understand what it was until I was old enough to move there.”

The room was very quiet.

“Church officials visited the dormitory. Senior ranks. They would select girls from the choir and ceremony classes — pull them out at night, return them by daybreak. Sometimes they didn’t return.” She paused. “It happened once or twice a month. Some months, two days in succession.”

Nightingale kept her breathing even and her face still.

“The night I was selected, it was Faria who came for me. My teacher, who had given me books, whose name I can still say. She whispered in my ear that I should bear it, that everything would be well, while she led me across the garden to a room built half underground.” Wendy’s voice didn’t shake, but it had slowed. “The room was bright. The girls from the ceremony class were already there — four or five men, the girls shackled. When the men came toward me, one of the girls broke her shackles. She grabbed the nearest man by the neck and twisted it, the way you would wring out a cloth.”

“She had awakened,” Nightingale said.

“I don’t know. Those men were still wearing their God’s Stones — but she killed them one after another. The last one she wanted to skin alive. She pulled him apart limb by limb while he was still breathing.” Wendy’s hands tightened slightly on the blanket. “His last word was extraordinary.”

The word landed and stayed in the air between them.

“The screams brought the guards — Judges. She killed them too. One she impaled through the chest with her bare arm. Their swords she cut through as if they were wood.” Wendy let out a slow breath. “When the whistle brought more guards from across the compound, she took Faria’s clothes, a dead man’s weapon, and walked toward the rush alone. She made a corridor.”

“And you ran.”

“I found the warden’s keys in the scattered clothes. I took the God’s Stones from the men’s necks — I thought they were just jewelry, something I could sell.” She paused. “I tried six keys before I found the one for the back gate. The guards, the nuns, the Judges — they were all following her. The compound behind me was empty.” Wendy turned her head toward Nightingale in the dark. “I was on the road for two years before I reached the Seawind Region. I sold one Stone before the others were taken from me. That bought ten silver royals. That was all I had.”

Nightingale reached across and held Wendy’s hands.

“What happened to the others?” she asked, after a while.

“The Church said there was a fire. Closed the monastery. No one asked about the girls.” Wendy’s voice was very level now. “They were just abandoned. Everyone’s always assumed the Church abandoned them. I think they were right.”

The room was quiet for a long time. A current of air moved through under the door.

“You have us now,” Nightingale said finally. “Sleep, Wendy.”

After a long time, she heard a soft sound that might have been agreement.

Chapter 127 Wendy

When Roland fell asleep, Nightingale emerged out of the fog, stepped to the side of his bed and gently straightening the quilt, covering an exposed arm. Then for a moment she quietly stood beside the bed watching the sleeping Roland, she then quietly slid through the floor, back to her own room.

“You’re not already asleep?” Seeing Wendy sitting on the bed and reading, Nightingale was slightly surprised.

“I’m afraid you would do something stupid!” Wendy glared at her, “His Royal Highness is not a child, is it really necessary for you to take care of him until he finally fell asleep?”Original and most up to date translations are posted at volaretranslations.

“His Royal Highness has sent people to other towns to spread the news that the Witch Cooperation Association is here, so I have to be at his side in the case someone heard the news of the witches and now wants to harm His Highness.”

Nightingale picked up a wet towel and cleaned her face with it. Followed by unlocking the red belt around her hip, taking off the bands of her leather wrist and body armor, then finally slipped out of her white clothes – this dress was His Highness’ newest creation, with a pure white hood coat she wouldn’t gather too much attention and thus it was the right clothes for an assassin, at least it was what he thought.

Nightingale carefully hung up her clothes, the smoothed out every fold. Afterward, she wrapped her sexy and curvy body within a piece of light muslin. On her flat stomach and thighs not even a single trace of fat could be seen.

“There is no possibility an accident could happen,” said Wendy, putting down the book, “There are sisters within the castle and there guards outside

patrolling and furthermore, didn’t you yourself put a stone under his pillow? I can never understand how you can touch such a thing.”

“Well, I’m still responsible for ensuring his safety,” Nightingale said while sitting down on the edge of the bed, taking off her boots and revealing her young and slender legs, then laying down and turning in Wendy’s direction.

“Didn’t you listen to what I said last time,” Wendy sighed. “Veronica, we are witches.”

“I know, Wendy,” Nightingale nodded. “Yes, we are Witches.” And His Royal Highness said that he will marry a witch – this came out of his own mouth, and… it wasn’t a lie.

Of course, this information could not be told lightly it could only be used as a last resort, so Nightingale didn’t give it away. Within her heart, she said sorry to Wendy and then changed the subject: “What’s your impression of the church?”

“Why would you suddenly asked this?” hearing this question Wendy clearly became startled.

“When I was at His Highness side in the stronghold’s castle, the High Priest paid him a visit and offered to support him in conquering the throne.”

“How did he answer?” Wendy’s voice became strained. “Or did he order you to leave previously to the start of the conversation?”

Nightingale smiled and shook her head, softly saying. “He just asked me to avoid the range of the other side’s God’s Stone of Retaliation, and His Royal Highness didn’t wear that thing himself. Wendy, His Highness did not agree to the invitation of the church, he refused their offer.”

The latter clearly felt relieved, then she said with a bit melancholy, “Unfortunately, our help to His Highness is limited, unlike the Church, whose forces cover the entire continent. If His Royal Highness took their offer, I’m afraid he would soon be able to sit on the throne…”

“Only God knows… His Highness said the High Priest spoke only a mouthful of baloney, that no one should trust him,” Nightingale paused, “There was another important matter.”Original and most up to date translations are posted at volaretranslations.

Taking out the red and black pills, “In the fog, the pills have the same color as the God’s Stone of Retaliation, this is inconceivable. Both of us know that the sisters who were discovered to be witches would swallow the God’s Stone of Retaliation, which is no different from committing suicide. The High Priest said that the pills were produced inside the Prayer Room in the Holy City, and I remember that you used to live there in a monastery. Did you have ever heard of such an organization? ”

Wendy had helped Nightingale to leave Silver City and during their run, she had set up traps for the bounty-hungry villains who were following them, at the same time it was also a kind of revenge – one method was to force them to swallow their own God’s Stone of Retaliation. After swallowing the villain would soon die, the whole body would roll up like it was suffering from dehydration, and would look like a fish exposed to the scorching sun.

“I never heard of something like that,” Wendy, closed her eyes and began slowly to tell, “Since the first moment I can remember, I’ve lived in a monastery in the Old Holy City, surrounded by high walls, with no view of the sky beyond. Everything was taught to us with hospitality by the nuns, things like reading and writing or the understanding of maps. I still remember the name of my teacher, Faria. She once gave us a book to read, it was the special introduction about the Old Holy City. There were churches in the city, monasteries, libraries, memorial halls and heroic walls, but I have never heard of a prayer Room in the city. I lived in the monastery for more than 10 years, until the accident happened…”

Wendy had already previously mentioned to Nightingale that the monastery was one day attacked by a witch and many people also died during that attack. Taking advantage of the whole chaos, Wendy was able to get out of the monastery, “Also I don’t know which witch had so much courage to dare to challenge the church alone, but she saved you at least.”

“No, Veronica, the with came from inside the church,” Wendy shook her head, “She was, like me, a member of the monastery.”

“What… do you mean?”

“The girls living in the monastery could be divided into three groups, one group consisted out of people like me, who stayed from early age in the monastery, not knowing their own origins; one were orphans who lived on the streets and were adopted by the local church and afterwards sent to the monastery; and the last group consisted out of girls sold to the church by their own parents. We were all separated by age and placed into different quarters, and even the teaching wasn’t the same. From an early age onward we learned how to recognize the words, from ten to fourteen years old we studied carols and after fourteen we were schooled in etiquette. The early classes were called the literacy class by the nuns, and the older classes were called the choir class and the ceremony class. Once we became adults we would be sent away from the monastery.

This was the first time that Nightingale heard the other speaking about this – before, Wendy had never elaborated on her experience during her life in the monastery.

“During the first few years, I could often hear other girls screaming during the night – the screams came out of the direction of the choir classes and ceremony classes. I didn’t understand what was going on until I was old enough to get into the choir classes. Then I found out that during the nights higher ranks of the church would visit the dormitory, always dragging a few girls out of their beds, and only at daybreak the next day would they be sent back. But sometimes… not all of the girls would come back again.”

Nightingale clenched her lips, of course, she clearly knew what Wendy meant.

“This kind of thing would happen once or twice a month, frequently even two days successively. Then it was the day that I was selected. It was Faria who pulled me out of the room, whispering all the while into my ear that I should just bear with it, everything would become well. I was dragged by her into the corner of the garden where a room was built halfway underground. The

room was brightly lit, at one side I could see how the females of the ceremony class being tortured, there were four to five men…” Her voice slightly shook. “When they came over to me, one of the women suddenly broke out from her shackles, grabbing the man closest to her, grabbed him by the neck and killing him just like he was a chicken, easily twisting his neck.”

“She… had awakened?”Reading anywhere else than volaretranslation, you’re stealing the translator’s lifelihood.

“I do not know,” Wendy shook her head, “those men had taken off their clothes, but they still wore their God’s Stone of Retaliation around their necks, but she was still able to kill one after another. One of them she seemed to want to skin alive, tearing one limp off after another, while he was still living. The last words he said before his death were… ‘an extraordinary’. The screams of the men alerted the guards and Faria who stood outside of the room. They immediately opened the iron gate and rushed in, but the scene in front of them rooted them on the spot, while the other woman directly rushed in their direction.”

“Was she a witch?” Asked Nightingale thrilled, “Were the guards also not an opponent for her?”

“The gap was simply too great. I later learned that those guards belonged to the Army of Judges. One of them blew his whistle while the other drew his sword. However, when the first one stopped blowing his whistle, she had already stepped in front of him, and penetrated his chest with her arm. In front of her, their armors were nothing more than a thin piece of paper.”