Chapter 581: Late Night Talk
Late at night, Wendy called all of the witches into her bedroom.
The usually spacious room was now packed.
It felt like déjà vu — but only on the surface. A year ago she had done the same thing: gathered them all into this room to explain the situation in Border Town and quiet their fear. Seven sisters had made it out of the Barbarian Lands. They had arrived hollowed, uncertain, carrying the particular resignation of people who had survived the worst and decided that whatever comes next is already a blessing. The church had hung over all of them like permanent weather. Survival was the whole game.
Tonight the faces were different.
No oppression. No hostility from strangers on the street. No hunger, no lying awake listening for footsteps. Their concerns had migrated — slowly, without announcement — from staying alive to protecting a life worth living.
This place had become their Holy Mountain.
If His Majesty Roland could defeat the church, the nightmares would have nowhere left to live.
Wendy waited until every eye was on her.
“The church is coming.”
The daytime meeting had offered little intelligence. She finished telling them about the secret letter quickly, and the room fell into a strange silence.
“Will His Majesty… win?” Mystery Moon asked, barely above a whisper. “I’m willing to spend all my time generating electricity for him at the factory—”
“Oh, come on.” Lily smirked. “His Majesty would have to arrange someone to feed you. Don’t give him more trouble right now.”
“What trouble!”
The room broke into laughter. Once the first voice spoke, the rest followed.
“I’ll work even harder brewing white liquor,” Evelyn resolved.
“But — how much liquor does a war need?”
“Aye… is that so?”
“I think His Majesty won’t lose,” Hummingbird offered. “Didn’t Carter injure Ashes, the Extraordinary? And the God’s Punishment Army can’t be stronger.”
Softfeathers, who rarely spoke, looked up. “Ashes lost to someone?”
“I wouldn’t call it a loss. Carter was unconscious and Ashes was completely incapacitated — more like a draw.”
“From what I understand, it was far from a fair fight,” Agatha interjected. “Had the Extraordinary carried equivalent weapons, she would have held the advantage.”
“But Sleeping Island only has one Extraordinary, while our side has thousands of soldiers with guns.”
“Hold it, sisters.” Scroll shook her head. “We’re talking about the church and His Majesty. Not Ashes.”
Wendy exhaled quietly. Nobody was afraid. That would have been inconceivable a year ago, when the church had seemed as fixed as a mountain range, when every witch who fought them vanished. The Witch Cooperation Association had spent years hiding, hunted, pressed deeper and deeper toward the Impassable Mountain Range.
The change, she knew, came mostly from one simple fact: His Majesty had never lost a foreign war.
“All of this will be crucial to the future of the Witch Union,” she said. “Has anyone thought about what happens when His Majesty defeats the church entirely?”
Silence settled — but it was a charged silence, lit from within by something none of them had quite named.
“The entire kingdom,” Wendy said quietly. “Maybe the entire continent. Safe for witches. A world built with ordinary people, where everyone carries equal honor and standing. His Majesty has said it more than once. I simply didn’t believe it could come so soon.”
She paused.
“That said — knowing how His Majesty usually works — I want everyone to do their jobs as they always have. Just do what you do. We won’t fail if we keep this confidence.”
She was not among the Union’s most brilliant witches and had no gift for speeches. She could only speak from whatever was lowest and most true in her. The intention to be considerate of other people is more important than anything else. Scroll had told her that, and she had carried it everywhere since.
“This place is our home,” Wendy said. “It will be the turning point for every witch alive. I’ll give myself entirely for it.”
She stretched out her left hand, back facing up.
Scroll pressed her hand on top first. Then Nightingale. Then Anna.
For His Majesty and the City of Neverwinter.
One by one, the witches added their hands. The women from the Bloodfang Association hesitated at the circle’s edge, uncertain whether they belonged — until Leaf reached out and pulled them in. That was how it worked: hand contact completed the thing. Agatha muttered that she would rather be fighting demons than dealing with this church business, but her hand joined the stack anyway.
Wendy placed her right hand on top of all of them and looked around at every face.
“For the Witch Union!”
“For the eternal Holy Mountain!”
After the witches left, only Wendy and Nightingale remained.
Wendy was pulling the door closed when she felt the cold — not the draft of the corridor, but something wrong in the air behind her. She turned.
Nightingale had opened the window without a sound and sat on the sill, looking out into the dark. The night wind moved her hair. A faint fragrance drifted through the room, something that didn’t belong to any scent Wendy could name.
“Are you worried about the war?”
“Worried?” Nightingale turned. Under the Stone of Light, something scorched in her pupils — a heat that had nothing to do with warmth. “The only thing I’m worried about is laughing myself to death.”
“Laughing?”
It was only then that Wendy felt it properly — the aura radiating off the woman like heat from a banked forge. With most witches, power had to be summoned and aimed; it was a thing they held and directed. For Nightingale it simply existed, always present, like the edge of something that had never been sheathed. Her fog-world pressed outward into physical space, claiming it quietly. The feeling had grown stronger every year since Border Town, not because her power had increased but because she had stopped suppressing it. An enemy would recognize it as the last warning they would have time to receive.
“I’ve waited a long time to take proper revenge on the church,” Nightingale said. “Our sisters who died wrongly must also be looking forward to this day. Revenge, from my experience — the taste of it is truly unforgettable.”
The woman who refused to leave her bed in the mornings had this inside her. Fortunately, she was not an enemy.
Wendy reached out and took her hand. The aura dissolved on contact — instantly, completely, as if it had been a held breath finally released. She drew Nightingale into her arms and held her.
“You can do whatever you want,” Wendy said. “Just take care of His Majesty. And yourself. Understood?”
Nightingale closed her eyes.
“Yes,” she said softly. “I will.”
Chapter 581: Late Night Talk
Translator: TransN Editor: TransN
Late at night, Wendy called all of the witches into her bedroom.
The usually spacious room was now packed.
It felt like deja vu. A year ago, Wendy had done the same thing. She had gathered all of the witches to inform them of the situation in Border Town and quell their uneasiness.
At that time, only seven of their sisters were able to escape from the Barbarian Lands. The witches were left traumatized, and were unsure and afraid of what was in store ahead. Many came to Border Town with a mentality that “We’ve suffered so much that whatever happens next is a blessing”. To them, survival itself was a difficult game, not to mention dealing with the church which perpetually hung over their heads like a shadow.
This time, the looks and feelings of everyone in the room were completely different from a year ago.
At present, the witches’ consideration was gradually shifting away from focusing on survival to maintaining their relatively carefree lives.
There were no more oppression and hostility from other people.
And no more worries about food and safety.
In essence, this place had become the witches’ “Holy Mountain”.
Furthermore, if they could help His Majesty Roland to defeat the church successfully, all of their nightmares would vanish and they would be truly
liberated forever.
Wendy waited until everyone’s eyes were fixed on her before she began. “The church is coming.”
The daytime meeting did not offer much in the way of intelligence. Wendy quickly finished telling the witches about the contents of the secret letter, and the room fell into an awkward silence.
“Will His Majesty… win?” After some time, Mystery Moon asked almost inaudibly. “I’m willing to spend all of my time generating electricity for him at the factory area…”
“Oh come on, His Majesty would have to arrange someone to take care of you if so.” Lily smirked. “It’s best you don’t give him more trouble at a time like this.”
“What trouble!”
The witches in the room started to laugh. Now that the first person had spoken, more and more voices were heard in the room.
“I’ll work even harder to produce white liquor.” Evelyn resolved.
“But, would so much liquor be needed while we’re at war with the church?”
“Aye… is that so?”
“I believe His Majesty won’t lose. Didn’t Carter also manage to severely injure Ashes, the Extraordinary Witch?” Hummingbird mooted. “And the God’s Punishment Army isn’t nearly as powerful as Ashes.”
“Is that true? Even the invincible Ashes has lost before?” Softfeathers, who rarely spoke, looked surprised.
“I won’t consider it a loss. Carter was battered to be unconscious while Ashes was completely incapacitated. It’s more like a tie.”
“As far as I know, it wasn’t a fair fight.” Agatha disputed. “Had the Extraordinary used equivalent weapons to Carter’s, she would have been in a stronger position.”
“But Sleeping Island only has one Extraordinary, while there’re thousands of soldiers carrying guns.”
“Hold it, sisters. Your debate’s heading in the wrong direction.” Scroll shook her head in disapproval. “We’re talking about the church and His Majesty now.”
Wendy quietly heaved a sigh of relief. Although everyone was anxious, nobody seemed afraid of fighting against the church. This would have been completely inconceivable a year ago, when the might of the church seemed to be as steady and unshakeable as a huge mountain. None of the witches who fought against them was able to survive. The Witch Cooperation Association had to hide in various places, and only managed to shake off the chasing enemies by advancing towards the secluded Impassable Mountain Range.
Of course, this mentality change was, for the most part, down to the fact that His Majesty had never lost a foreign war.
“All in all, this war will be crucial to the future of the Witch Union.” Wendy inhaled a deep breath. “Has anyone thought about what will happen if His Majesty completely defeats the church?”
Everyone in the room turned silent, but a strange and indescribable twinkle gleamed in their eyes.
“The entire kingdom… and maybe even the entire continent, will become safe for witches to reside in. In His Majesty’s territory, we’ll be able to create a new world together with other people, one where everyone enjoys equal honor and status. This is also what His Majesty has mentioned several times. I just didn’t think that it could all be possible so soon.”
Wendy paused for a short while. “However, going by His Majesty’s usual way of doing things, I urge everyone not to work too hard. Just do your jobs as usual. We’ll not fail if we can keep this confidence.”
She did not comprehend sophisticated ideas, nor was she among the Union’s most able and brightest witches. Now that His Majesty had placed her in charge of the Union, she simply did what she could. Every time before an expedition, His Majesty would give an impassioned speech to the First Army. Wendy could never think of a way to inspire the witches in the same way as him. In the end, she always resorted to speaking what she felt at the bottom of her heart.
“The intention to be considerate of other people is more important than anything else.” She firmly remembered these words of Scroll.
“This place is our home and will serve as the turning point for the fates of all witches. I’ll give all of myself for it!”
Wendy stretched out her left hand, with the back of her hand facing upwards.
Scroll was the first to press her hand on top of Wendy’s.
Then, Nightingale and Anna followed.
“For His Majesty and City of Neverwinter!”
All of the witches gathered together with their hands stacked on top of each other’s. The witches of the Bloodfang Association had hesitated for a while, as though they were unsure whether they would be accepted by everyone else, until Leaf pulled them into the circle. As per convention, they were only considered truly integrated into the group after they made hand contact with the other witches.
“I really don’t wish to have to deal with this annoying bunch before fighting against the demons.”
Although Agatha voiced her displeasure, she also stretched out her hand and joined in.
Lastly, Wendy placed her right hand on top of the stack and looked around at everyone.
“For the Witch Union!”
“For the… eternal Holy Mountain!”
…
After the witches departed, only Wendy and Nightingale were left in the room.
As Wendy was closing the door, she suddenly felt a breeze of cold wind behind her back.
She turned her head back, only to see that Nightingale had silently opened the window, and was now sitting on the sill and looking into the night sky. The night breeze blew her hair upwards, while at the same time, a faint fragrance whiffed by.
“Are you also worried about this war?” Wendy walked over to the window and asked.
“Worried?” Nightingale turned her head to face Wendy. Under the glow of the Stone of Light, scorching rays gleamed in her pupils. “The only thing I’m worried about is that I’ll laugh myself to death.”
“L-laugh?”
It was only at this time that Wendy felt the piercing aura that emanated from the latter’s body. Unlike most witches, Nightingale could release her magic powers even when she was not actively using her abilities. To her, these powers were no longer elusive and intangible things, but instead were like sharp blades which created inaccessible regions of space. It was as if her misty world was slowly eating into the space around itself and beginning to take hold of the physical world. Ever since she came to Border Town, this feeling was becoming more and more pronounced to the people around her.
To an enemy, this would be the greatest portent of danger.
“I’ve waited a long time to take proper revenge on the church,” Nightingale slowly explained. “Our sisters who wrongly died at the church’s hands must
also be looking forward to this day. The taste of revenge, from my experience, is truly unforgettable.”
It was hard to imagine that this was the same woman who lingered in bed and did not want to wake up in the morning. Fortunately, she wasn’t an enemy of the sisters.
Wendy reached her hand out to Nightingale. Upon contact, the piercing aura disappeared. She proceeded to cuddle Nightingale in her arms.
“You can continue to do whatever you want. Just remember to take good care of His Majesty… and also yourself. Is that understood?”
“Yes.” Nightingale closed her eyes and replied softly. “I will.”