章節 17: The Witch And The Cat

"I would wager Aldric put you up to this," the chief mused, leaning back as though the words themselves were weighted with caution. His eyes flickered with a mischievous gleam. "To sway you—or, knowing you, to threaten me—into teaching this child the ways of the Kni—Hunter." He bit down on his tongue, "Shit, another death was on the way," the slip of the forbidden word nearly costing him dearly, again. His eyes darted to the witch.

"Good," she replied coldly, not even sparing him a glance as her gaze shifted across the room. "You know where you stand on my list."

"I know very well," the chief quipped, his grin faint but unyielding. "Just as I know where that man stood on your list. A shame, really. Dying of old age like that."

The air thickened with an oppressive weight, and El Ritch could feel it pressing against his chest, making it harder to breathe. He looked up to see the witch's eyes glinting dangerously, her intent spilling out in a wave of cold, authority. It wasn't the first time he'd felt this from her, but here, in the presence of the chief, it seemed sharper, harsher.

The chief chuckled softly, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "That glare of yours is impressive, but perhaps you should temper it. After all, a child is present."

El Ritch glanced at the chief, surprised to see him smirking back at the witch without an ounce of fear. He wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh at the rare sight of someone retorting to her or to bolt for the door before things escalated further.

The witch took a slow breath, her aura dissipating as quickly as it had risen. "You're right," she admitted, though her tone was far from conciliatory. "Losing someone is a grieving matter. It's not something to be enraged about, is it... Julian?"

The name struck like a whip. The chief's smirk faltered, his head tilting slightly as though her words had physically hit him. "How did you—" He stopped, chuckling dryly and shaking his head. "You're good. Too good. I surrender. No more digging each other's graves." He raised his hands.

"Should've done that before engaging with me," she shot back, already moving to a table laden with parchments, quills, and an ink pot. "Becoming a chief and forgetting your place... seriously."

El Ritch watched her take the quill, dip it into the ink, and begin writing with practiced ease. "She's writing a contract," Julian whispered, startling El Ritch with his sudden proximity. He turned to find the chief already beside him, the speed of his movement unsettling.

Julian grinned at the boy's startled expression. "Sorry for the jump scare," he said, his voice tinged with amusement. "Tell me, has she taught you any foundational theory of witchcraft?" His question carried a peculiar weight, as though he genuinely wanted to know.

"No," El Ritch admitted, his disappointment clear. "But she did teach me the meaning of the witch's motto."

"'Hope is something treacherous, placed on something that is transient,'" Julian recited with an air of pale disinterest. "A stylish motto, I'll give her that. But it won't suit the way of a Hunter. Still," he added with a faint shrug, "if the witch is teaching you, who am I to argue? She's more educated than me or Aldric, that much is certain."

Julian leaned closer to El Ritch, lowering his voice to a whisper. "But tell me... does she ever let you win an argument?"

El Ritch stared at him, unsure whether the question was a joke or a trap. "No," he said hesitantly.

Julian laughed, patting him on the shoulder. "Welcome to the club, boy. Welcome to the club."

"Here is the contract." The witch, Rok-To, placed the freshly written parchment among the others, stepping back as if already finished with the matter. Julian, with a dramatic groan, rose to retrieve it. He scanned the text, one hand lazily scratching his chin. "Huh," he said finally, a grin tugging at his lips. "First time seeing demands that aren't entirely ridiculous. I'm actually happy to trade the child."

Rok-To shook her head, unimpressed by his approval.

"Academy starts tomorrow. You have much to prepare," Julian continued, waving the parchment vaguely. "You know what to prepare, right?"

The witch simply nodded.

"Great, then! I'll be escorting you out—"

"There's no need—" Rok-To began, but Julian interrupted her with a playful wag of his finger.

"—Yes, need. You're my friend. Have to make sure my friend gets back safely."

Rok-To sighed, shaking her head. "Fine. Go first."

Julian grinned, gave a mock bow, and strode ahead. Rok-To followed soon after, holding El Ritch's hand.

Rok-To

The walk back to the gate stretched on, the minutes crawling as snowflakes swirled in the faint orange glow of lanterns dotting the village. Dawn had given way to dusk, and the settlement had transformed. What had been a sleepy, somber place earlier now pulsed with quiet energy.

Men and women moved between huts, carrying bundles of firewood and crates of supplies. Children darted through the snow, their laughter rising above the crunching footsteps. The stalls in the market had taken on a new life, their wares illuminated by the flickering lanterns. Vendors called out to passersby, offering steaming cups of spiced broth and freshly baked flatbreads. Even the air had changed—its icy bite tempered by the mingling scents of smoked meat and pine resin.

Rok-To and Julian walked in silence, though their conversation continued through another medium. Parchments, hastily scrawled with words, darted between their hands faster than any normal human could track. It wasn't magic, just a demonstration of their sheer physical precision and speed.

The first note was Julian's:

What is Aldric and his lover thinking, adopting a child here in this 'land'? Have they forgotten their aim?

Rok-To's reply came swiftly on another slip of parchment:

Aldric always has a plan. Perhaps this child is special. Let him do his work.

Julian glanced at her sideways as he read the response, his expression unreadable. The village streets, now lined with glowing lanterns and shadowed figures, grew livelier still. A group of hunters returned with their spoils—lean, sinewy creatures with shaggy fur slung over their shoulders. Around a firepit, elders huddled, their voices low as they exchanged stories.

Julian's next parchment appeared in Rok-To's palm.

That is why you are teaching him, yes? I wondered why you would show affection for a child of this 'world'.

Rok-To's answer came with a subtle flick of her wrist.

One of the reasons, yes. And you're not one to talk. 'Chief'? Really? End the delusion before the Conjurers find out. You're making the dead struggle along with you.

Julian's smirk faltered as he read, his steps slowing slightly. For the first time, he seemed less irreverent, his reply weighted:

Yes… Being the last of my race, I think I am delusional. But one does what one can. I am a chip off Aldric, after all. After he killed me for the fourth time, I realized I was becoming more like him. Yet… it didn't feel unfamiliar. I felt the same thing he did: Lonely.

The witch said nothing, though her eyes flickered with a faint glimmer of understanding.

The journey ended at the gates, their hinges creaking as the guards swung them open without a word. Julian stepped aside, offering Rok-To a mockingly grand gesture to pass through.

"Safe travels, my friend of the woods," he said, his tone playful but his gaze unusually solemn.

She nodded curtly, her hand tightening slightly on El Ritch's. Without a glance back, they passed through the gates and into the quiet expanse beyond.