Chapter 221

#221 Chapter: The Tin Knight and the Tower of Greed

The eastern continent is nominally governed by the Kingdom of Ionia, but the reality is quite different.

While the royal family is undoubtedly the largest power in the east, their stronghold is too far skewed to the eastern edge, leaving many territories just a bit to the west beyond their influence.

Cities in such areas have practically turned into warlords’ domains, wielding power akin to that of kings over their territories.

The situation in the Friedel Territory was no different.

They paid taxes dutifully, pledging loyalty to the royal family, but that was merely a reflection of the local lord’s personal inclination.

The governance of the territory was completely independent of the royal family, and Friedel maintained their land not through royal protection but solely through their own military strength and the reputation of being a branch of the Lion Duke’s Bloodline.

However, perhaps the royal family did have a conscience, or maybe they calculated that if they flaunted their greed too openly after devouring all they could, other nobles would not sit idly by.

Once Friedel’s main forces were decimated and they became a buffet for robbers, the royal family did send some support.

This continued even after Gisel was appointed as the lord’s representative. Instead of using the support from the kingdom, Gisel treated it as the lord family’s personal property, stashing it away in warehouses.

Naturally, the support from her family was already sufficient, and she didn’t want to see the royal family use it as an excuse to exert any influence.

She’d have preferred to send it back outright, but it was an entirely different matter to refuse aid personally stamped by the king.

By keeping the assets for the lord family, it also helped stabilize public sentiment.

But now, Gisel found herself in a rather troublesome situation.

“You want to take the lady of the lord with you…?”

“That’s right.”

The man with the slightly curled mustache nodded with an impressive air of confidence.

Gisel knew the identity of the man.

Marquis William Heming.

One of the core power players in the Kingdom of Ionia, he belonged to a historically prestigious family and, once a leader of the nobility faction, was now referred to as the king’s right-hand man.

Although Gisel had the backing of the Duke Lenart’s family, which allowed her to look down on most lords in Ionia, facing a heavyweight like him meant she was inevitably at a disadvantage.

Given Gisel’s current official position as a servant of the Ionia royal family, that was even more apparent.

Thus, she found herself flustered.

“That’s quite sudden! The lady is currently unconscious due to the shock of repeated tragedies. She must remain at rest; it’s impossible for her to be moving about.”

“Precisely why I have come directly.”

Marquis William Heming continued his exaggerated rhetoric as if delivering a grand speech.

“The king mourns deeply for the loss of Sir August, the kingdom’s proud sword, and his men. He has spared no effort to comfort the bereaved families. Yet, now that the lady still hasn’t regained her senses, the king grieves so much that he shed tears.”

Gisel’s expression was meticulously placid, showing no sign of disturbance; however, inside, she was quite chaotic.

Her rational side questioned, ‘Could he really go that far?’, while considering the king was famously eccentric, the possibility wasn’t entirely out of the question.

“The king initially intended to send his personal physician and priest to treat the lady’s ailment, but removing those responsible for his own safety elsewhere would create numerous issues. Hence, I have come to escort the lady to the capital. Of course, we are fully prepared for any unforeseen circumstances during the journey.”

“…Is that so.”

Gisel realized she was cornered.

How could she refuse to send the lady when the king himself sent his right-hand man to tend to her condition? Saying no could lead to serious trouble. In the worst-case scenario, rumors might circulate that ‘the lord’s representative is reluctant for the lady to recover.’

‘…But to think a man regarded as the foremost among the courtiers would personally come this far. His loyalty to the king must be something else.’

As Gisel pondered over this faithful (??) man in front of her, Marquis William Heming was quietly formulating his thoughts.

‘Damn it, that cursed witch!’

He was tied to the link between the Kingdom of Ionia and Dorothea’s group.

It wasn’t really something he had wanted, but it had just happened that way.

Having received a letter from the rather ominous raven—(which might be a biased statement, but after seeing a deathly still raven moving like that, there was no other way to describe it)—he found himself having to scream in despair over its contents.

“Secure the lady of the Friedel Territory. Under the pretext of escorting her, take the knight Roni Locksley and those she recommends as well. Time is limited, so act immediately upon receiving this letter and under no circumstances must you turn the lady over to the Lenart side until we contact you.”

It was an utterly absurd and unreasonable demand.

To go to someone else’s territory, especially one held by the Lenart family, and abduct the lord’s lady?

Did this damned witch really think of him as some sort of burglar and not a nobleman?

As much as he wanted to ignore the letter altogether, the witch was as cunning as the villains in fairy tales.

“If you manage to pull this off, I will clear our existing grudge and annul the blood oath.”

This was why William was reluctant to keep being the king’s aide.

Once labeled a traitor by old comrades and forced to defend the witch’s actions, he found himself stuck in a dreadful and inequitable contract: if he ever thwarted or opposed the witch, he would immediately turn into a frog!

Faced with the temptation of unraveling the most suffocating and cursed noose around his neck, William had no choice but to surrender.

In the end, receiving official orders from the king and feeding him a load of flattering words had led to an odd misunderstanding; that ‘Is this sympathy for a deceased friend? Such a bro bond should not be ignored!’ he seemed to have misinterpreted something odd, but for the sake of breaking the curse, that was a minor issue.

After all, he was merely an acquaintance of the Friedel lord, and their contact was typically just a few polite greetings at best.

‘Why this sudden request? But once this is over, at last, I’ll be free! Ha ha ha!’

Marquis William Heming laughed.

Deep down, he felt elated.

Until news of the singing bone flute spread from the Magical Kingdom to the Empire and then to the Kingdom, he could laugh all he wanted.

Once it reached that point? Well, who knows?

Maybe he wouldn’t be laughing anymore.

***

When people use the word ‘witch,’ it often carries a negative connotation rather than a positive one.

This could be due to the frequent portrayal of witches as villains in old tales and myths, or perhaps it reflects the reality of many wicked witches throughout history.

Some scholars have claimed that necromancers absorbed various odd things and intertwined with witchcraft, expressing outrage with statements like “the necromancers have sullied the witches,” but whether or not that’s true is now lost to time.

In that sense, the North Witch Olin was truly unlike a typical witch.

Her nature was kind-hearted, and unlike other arrogant wizards, she possessed a remarkably open mindset: “Magic should be used for people.”

She wasn’t just a flower child either; she exhibited strong qualities as a leader within her organization by advocating for the public use of magic, thus creating a positive cycle that also benefited wizards.

It’s no wonder the wizards in the magical tower respected her as one of the matriarchs of the Magical Kingdom.

But as time passed, the activities of the North Witch Olin gradually dwindled.

The number of her trainees, which once numbered in the dozens each year, steadily declined, and her appearances at official events of the magical tower eventually faded away.

Some said it was due to her waning strength over the years, while others believed she fell into lethargy after long-lost acquaintances passed away.

And one of her former students, after decades of seclusion, declared:

Neither explanation was incorrect.

“Long ago, well before I became Master’s student, she fought against another witch.

The witch was named Mombi—a malicious witch who had lived for far longer than Olin.

A master of transformation, she lived by stealing the appearance and identity of others, and her next target was Master herself.”

A grand sorceress beloved and respected by many.

A queen who played a major role in the rise of the mighty Magical Kingdom.

There could be no more attractive prey for a wicked witch who lived by usurping others’ lives.

The two witches fought fiercely; while Olin emerged victorious, the cost was significant.

The evil witch Mombi successfully embedded a part of her will and soul within Olin even in death.

Affected by Mombi’s influence, Olin’s personality and character started to twist, and as a countermeasure, Olin split her mind in two and sealed Mombi within one half.

While this seemed successful at first glance, it carried considerable side effects.

When the seal was stable, it didn’t matter much, but when the seal became unstable, Mombi began to absorb Olin’s ‘negative traits.’

“Wait a minute.”

Dorothea, who had been listening to the story, interjected.

“So, absorbing negative traits was the side effect?”

“Hmm, how should I put this?”

Gale paused as if pondering and then suddenly addressed Dorothea.

“Dorothea, I am gravely ill and need money; can you temporarily lend me your entire fortune?”

“Are you crazy?”

“That’s precisely it.”

Gale placed a card atop her finger and began spinning it.

“Skepticism, vigilance, negativity—each of these might be considered ‘bad elements’ when evaluated individually, but that doesn’t mean they should be eliminated. Just like a card requires a front and a back, negative aspects have their own uses.”

Conversely, it meant that someone stripped of all their negative traits had their own serious issues.

The witch, who had sought to pursue goodness while understanding both sides, would fall to become a fool containing only her benevolent aspect.

It seemed Dorothea understood the implication, murmuring with a serious expression.

“So, the outcome of that is…?”

“When she regains her composure and the seal stabilizes, Master’s mental state will return to normal. Initially, she had chosen to live in semi-seclusion for that very reason.”

“…Well, as long as it doesn’t severely affect our plans, that’s fine.”

In truth, having received confirmation that the ‘evidence’ they had brought was genuine, they no longer needed to be entangled with the North Witch.

No longer, but strangely enough, Dorothea and the others couldn’t shake off an odd sense of unease.

To put it in the words of the Tin Knight, it was an ominous sign—or rather, a ‘flag.’

“…Let’s go back and visit your master. I’m getting a bad feeling about this.”