Chapter 219: Older Sister, Younger Sister
“Welcome to the Witch Union!”
The glasses went up. Lucia’s eyes stung again before she could stop them. She raised her own cup, blinked hard, drank. The wine was not what she expected—not the bitterness she associated with the one time she had tasted it in her father’s study, but something light and faintly sweet, like the memory of something better.
She had washed properly for the first time in a month. Clean clothes, borrowed. Bell was settled in the room they’d been given—not a closet, not a corner of a warehouse, but an actual furnished guest room on the castle’s second floor, with a bed large enough for two. Nightingale had said, matter-of-factly, that the Prince hadn’t wanted the sisters separated.
Now the hall held witches of ages and expressions she couldn’t quite sort at first glance: a composed woman who looked like she had read every book in the castle twice, a girl with golden hair currently flying in a slow loop near the ceiling, filling cups from a tilted jug. Black flames ate a haunch of raw goat and left the bowl beneath it untouched. Music rose from nowhere—from a dark-eyed woman who sat with her eyes half-closed, the notes forming themselves around her without instruments.
Nightingale moved through it all with her, naming people. Scroll and Wendy—older, steadier, the kind of anchoring presence that lets a room know it’s safe to relax. Leaves and Echo, who had the warmth of women who choose to be older sisters because they are suited to it. Anna, Soraya, others Lucia’s own age who met her eyes without reservation.
None of them treated her as a stranger.
She had wanted it and not allowed herself to expect it—the way you want things you don’t think you’re allowed to have. To be accepted without condition into a group whose members had every reason to be cautious about new faces. She felt it moving through her, this warmth, pushing back against the long weight of the past month.
Bell was awake when Lucia returned.
She heard the movement from the doorway. Her sister had rolled over in the large bed and was regarding the ceiling with the contemplative expression of someone who has been asleep for a long time and has questions.
“You’re awake.” Lucia was across the room before she finished the sentence. “How do you feel?”
Bell looked like the disease had never happened—no trace of the spots, the fever, the grey cast that had crept into her face on the sick ship. Her eyes were clear.
“Hungry,” she said.
Lucia had already pulled a paper bag from her pocket and opened it. The smell of grilled fish spread into the room—a gift from Nightingale, given during the welcome gathering. Bell ate with the focused concentration of a ten-year-old who has been hungry long enough to mean it.
When some of the hunger was addressed, Bell looked around the room with fresh eyes. “Where are we? The ship didn’t have beds like this.”
“Border Town. Western Territory. We arrived.”
“But I was sick. They let sick people in?”
“The Lord’s witches cured you,” Lucia said. “All of us.” She gave Bell the abbreviated version—the pier, the treatment, the fires and the porridge, the man with the grey hair receiving the crowd’s cheers as if he found it slightly awkward. “And from now on we live here. In the castle.”
Bell sat with this. “Witches?” she finally said. “Like you?”
“Yes. And everyone has been kind to me. Especially Nightingale—” Lucia touched her sister’s forehead, lightly. “She’s the one who gave you a bath.”
“Oh.” Bell absorbed this. Then: “But you always said nobles despise witches. Why would the Lord shelter them?”
Lucia coughed once. “Occasionally there are one or two good people among the nobility.”
Bell accepted this with a skepticism that was polite but visible. She finished the fish and reached for the last piece. “Do you have to work for him? Like the maids at home—sweeping and cooking and attending?”
“I’m a witch,” Lucia said, taking her sister’s face between her palms. “My contribution is my ability. Where did you get the maid idea?”
“Mama.” Bell’s voice went quieter. “She said it’s why she never let Father hire a pretty one.”
Lucia held her sister without answering for a moment. Bell was probably right about what Roland wanted from her—during their conversation, his interest had been directed: the nature of her ability, what it could and couldn’t do. Not the conversation of a man who wanted domestic service. The conversation of a man who had decided her ability was worth something and wanted to understand the shape of it.
And that was the thing that kept Lucia awake long after the candle was out.
Because she was not sure he was right.
She had understood from the witches who passed through Valencia that abilities divided into types—combat and noncombat. She had never been able to claim either category clearly. Her restoration—if that was even the right word—didn’t work on living things, which eliminated the most obvious combat application. As a non-combat ability it was difficult to see what it produced: she could turn finished objects back into their ingredients, inconsistently, with no guarantee of which components she’d get.
She had turned her father’s straw paper back into grass on the day she awakened, in the middle of the living room, and her parents had looked at the pile on the floor and then at her. They had scolded her quietly and then warned her, repeatedly and carefully, to never let anyone see. Her father had bought her a God’s Stone of Retaliation—she had worn it for two years while memorizing how to look devout.
The other witches she had briefly met were not encouraging. Useless, they’d said, not cruelly, just factually. Can’t fight, can’t support, can’t build. She had tried to agree without quite giving up.
If Roland found her useless after closer examination—if the careful interest in his eyes tonight was followed by the more familiar disappointment—she didn’t know what happened then.
Bell’s breathing evened out. Her sister was asleep again, sated and unconscious with the uncomplicated grace of ten-year-olds everywhere.
Lucia lay in the dark beside her, waiting for morning.
Chapter 219 Older sister, younger sister
“Welcome to the Witch Union!” In the hall, a group of witches of different ages and colors raised their glasses cheerfully.
“Thanks, thank you.” Lucia felt her eyes become teary again, she sniffed and impulsively tried to restrain her tears. She raised her cup then drank a mouthful of wine, which didn’t taste as bitter as she remembered but was slightly sweet instead.
After have gone to see the Lord, and with Nightingale’s assistance, Lucia was able to wash Bell and take a bath herself. Afterward putting on a set of clean clothes. When her sister had been settled, Lucia once more followed Nightingale into the castle hall. Here, the witches had prepared a welcoming party for her.
This was the first time Lucia ever saw so many of her kind, subsequently also dispersing the last trace of doubt in the bottom of her heart. In case the witches had been imprisoned here or forced to serve the Lord, they would never be able to reveal such a light-hearted and bright smiles.
Recalling the sentence, Nightingale had previously said, “This is the home of witches”, she suddenly understood her feelings. In contrast to those witches whose identities were exposed and were thus hunted down and killed by the Church, finding a safe place to live in wasn’t easy. Since the bandits had attacked Valencia a month of suffering and constant fleeing had followed. But now, with the warm welcome of the Witch Union, she could finally let her constantly alarmed mind relax a bit.
At the same time, she also realized how magical a banquet with many witches participating could become.
Using black flames, the raw goat’s meat roasted perfectly within a flash, while the basin containing it was completely unharmed.
A little girl with short blond hair flew in the air, holding jug to fill everyone’s cup.
While a witch with an exotic look simulated a broad range of musical instruments, which all eventually converged into beautiful music.
…
With Nightingale introducing them one after another, she was quickly able to remember each of their names. In this way becoming one of them and diluting the sadness in her heart even further.
In the Witch Union there were mature and steady witches like Scroll and Wendy, and there was also Leaves and Echo, who kind of resembled older sisters, as well as Anna, Soraya, and others whose age was similar to her own. But no matter who they were none of them treated her as a stranger. For this, Lucia’s heart was filled with gratitude.
After the banquet, she and the witches wished each other a good night and then she returned to her new home. Although Bell was not a witch, the Prince did not order her and her sister to separate. Instead, he gave them the last furnished guest room on the second floor of the castle all to them.
“Elder sister?” Hearing her moving, Bell opened her eyes.
“You awoke!?” Lucia felt immediately delighted in her heart, quickly rushing to the bedside, “How are you feeling?”
Bell looked like she had only been asleep for a long time, not having any trace of the plague or the pain it brought left on her body. With her eyes still a little cloudy, she opened her mouth and muttered: “I feel so hungry.”
“Wait…” Lucia hurriedly took out a bag from her pocket and opened it, releasing the scent of grilled fish. This bag of fish slices had previously been given to her by Nightingale, “There’s some food for you.”
Sitting on the bed and seeing how Bell ate the fish, she was so gratified that she began to pat the little fellow’s head. This year, her sister only just turned
ten years old, and now, without parents, she was the only one Bell could rely on.
After eating two fishes she became more sober, curiously looking around she asked, “Where are we? It didn’t look like the ship had such a big bed.”
“Western Region’s Border Town, we reached our destination.”
“Have already arrived?” She touched her cheek. “But am I not… sick? Will they agree to let the plague-stricken people enter the town?”
“You are right, that would be indeed be unlikely,” replied Lucia. Seeing the blank expression on her sister’s face, she began to laugh, “However, the Lord’s witches have already cured you.” Afterward, she gave her a summary of what happened at the docks, “and from now on we should stay here in the castle.”
“Witches?” Bell asked, tilting her head, “Are they the same as you, sister?”
“That’s right. Furthermore, everyone is very kind to me, especially a witch called Nightingale,” Lucia softly poked her head. “She also helped with giving you a bath.”
“Oh, but you have always said that the nobles would loathe witches? Why would the Lord be willing to shelter witches?”
Taken aback by the question, Lucia coughed twice. “This… Occasionally there are also one or two good people within the nobility.”
While taking out the last piece of dried fish out of the bag, Bell asked. “Does that mean you need to work for him? Like those maids at home, sweeping the floor, cooking, and attending upon the Lord?”
“What nonsense are you talking about,” Lucia said, grasping her younger sister’s face, “I am a witch! It is only naturally that I have to help the Lord with my ability! As for maids having to do those things, who told you that?”
“Mommy…” she sadly whispered, “She said that’s also the reason why she never allowed daddy to recruit a beautiful maid.”
Hearing her mention their family, Lucia’s face suddenly darkened a lot. Instead of blaming Bell for bringing it up, she pulled her younger sister into a hug and softly sighed.
She wasn’t worried about her sister’s theory, during the conversation with the Lord, she could see that besides of simple inquiries about her life experiences, the only other thing of interest to him was her ability, making it evident that he cared more about whether a witch’s ability could serve useful to him or not.
But, when thinking about her ability, Lucia felt deeply worried and sick at heart.
She had never been ignorant about the witches’ world; she knew that six months ago many witches had come through Valencia, and afterward the others had one after another left the city. She had heard that they were leaving for the Fjord’s, wanting to find a new home. But Lucia didn’t want to leave her parents and because of that she hadn’t agreed to travel with them. However, with her repeated contact with them, Lucia at least became aware that witches are used to dividing themselves into combat and noncombat types.
Her ability to restore an object to its original state could be said to be useless. Not to mention using it during a fight, even using it during peaceful times it was already difficult for her to control.
Her father had been a merchant, operating the family’s papermaking workshop, so it was often that the living room was filled with the prepared straw paper. But on the day when she became a witch, she unwittingly chanced upon using her ability, turning the paper back into a pile of grass and fine powder. After the event, although her parents severely rebuked her, they did not give her away to the Church. Instead, they repeatedly warned her to hide herself carefully and if necessary, even go so far as put on a God’s Stone of Retaliation, disguising herself as devoted believer.
At first, Lucia was full of curiosity about the ability, often secretly hiding in her bedroom to restore all kinds of test items. But she quickly discovered that this ability was extremely difficult to control. For example, restoring the
straw paper again, she sometimes got the same grass bits as the first time, but other times there were only black granule left. In case she would continue to cast her magic on an object, it will only become less and less, and the final product was not a fine powder but rather a grit, which meant that her restoration ability couldn’t be used to restore a heavily damaged object. She was only able to destroy what other had carefully produced.
The other witches had also thought that her ability was useless. In case she wanted to use it in battle, she would have to get too close. Furthermore, her ability was also ineffective on a living body, so not to mention using it to fight against a trained knight, even the average farmer would already be terribly difficult. And so, considering to become a combat witch was out of the question for her, but also as a non-combat witch, she couldn’t think of any uses, it was almost like her ability was on the lowest level.
Coming to this conclusion, she had been depressed for a long time.
But now… what Lucia was now more anxious about was, if His Royal Highness also believed her to be useless, will he cast her out of the castle?
With an uneasy feeling, she blew out the candles, took her sister who was perfectly satisfied gnawing on the finished fish bones into her arms, slowly closed her eyes then awaited the arrival of a new day.