Nivea's Vow
"That place used to be our village. It wasn't prosperous. There were plenty of days we went hungry. But they were good people who helped each other out. Auntie Mary, Uncle Charlie... sob..."
The child choked up and burst into tears, unable to continue. I waited quietly for her to speak again. Once her sobs subsided, she picked up the story.
"Then one day, those people showed up. At first, they were kind. They learned all sorts of things from our villagers—like where the fruit grew abundantly, the paths the mountain beasts took. But when winter came and food grew scarce, they turned on us out of nowhere. They stole all the provisions we'd gathered and drove us into the winter mountains to forage."
This was a common tale, one that happened everywhere.
"But what was there to find in the winter mountains? The harvest was pitiful. They locked everyone up and started executing us one by one..."
"Enough."
I cut her off. I didn't need to hear the rest to know what happened. I'd already suspected as much from the skeletons we'd unearthed—bones picked nearly clean. No freshly buried corpses turn that white so quickly.
"So the curse... that was your doing, wasn't it?"
The child nodded. Rather than her fate troubling me, it was the headache of what to do with her. Even if I took her in, I lacked the proper environment to raise and educate her.
"Sir Joseph."
"Yes, Saint?"
Joseph looked ready to charge out and slaughter the entire village on the spot. From our conversation, he'd pieced together the horror.
"What happened here... it's none of our business."
"Pardon?"
"Did that child do wrong?"
I pointed at her. By inquisitor standards, absolutely—she'd used a curse to kill. Normally, they'd cleave her down without a second thought. But Joseph hesitated, wrestling with inner conflict.
"So we're calling it none of our business."
"Understood."
To my surprise, he acquiesced easily. But his trial wasn't over yet. Far in the sky, five black dots appeared, drawing closer. They resolved into five massive crows—larger than eagles, enough to suspect magic beasts, but they weren't.
As the crows neared, the knights drew their swords in unison, going on high alert.
"It's fine. Stand down, everyone."
I knew what they were, so I waved the knights back. The crows circled twice before landing in a row a short distance from me.
"Be careful, Saint!"
Jayke and Joseph swiftly blocked my path. They were just doing their duty, if a bit overprotective.
"It's alright. They're acquaintances."
No sooner had I spoken than the crows began shifting into human form. Rising were five stunningly beautiful women.
"Witches!"
As expected, Joseph flew into a rage. The Divinity Church and witches had been at odds for ages—mostly the church hunting them unilaterally. True to his Master knight prowess, he drew his sword at blinding speed, aura surging forth in thick streams.
"Sir Joseph, stop."
I stepped in front of him, forcing another intervention. His precise timing halted his charge mid-stride.
One of the five witches stepped forward and knelt gracefully before me.
"Adriana of the Western Witches, at your service, Saint."
"Saint Germain Akasha. What brings you here?"
They might not know me, but I knew them. My clones—numbers two through ten—still roamed the continent. The Western Witches' village lay hidden in the northern Empire, veiled by barriers like the elves' but not sealing souls. I'd observed them for a time.
"We heard our child was here and came to fetch her, but circumstances delayed us."
"Did Melania prophesy that?"
Adriana's eyes widened. She hadn't expected me to know that much. Melania was the Western Witches' leader and seer.
"You know us well. I'm impressed. Yes, Melania told us."
"I see. Did she say anything else?"
"That someday the Western Witches might aid you, Saint."
"I see."
Unlike the Eastern Witches, the Western ones shunned conflict and were moderate, but their power was not to be underestimated. That "someday" might refer to the crisis Juno mentioned. I turned to the child, watching fearfully. For her, going with them was the best outcome.
"Take her."
The witches approached the child, explaining and persuading gently. Joseph, still on edge, asked,
"You know them?"
"They don't know me, but I know them."
"Why let them go? Just give the order, and I'll..."
He couldn't grasp it. I cut off his rising agitation.
"Sir Joseph."
"Yes, Saint?"
"Did Juno ever command you to kill witches?"
Joseph's eyes darted. No such revelation or oracle existed. I'd studied theology once; nothing like that.
"Have you ever seen the Western Witches harm people first?"
Not that I knew. They weren't aggressors.
"Then why should we harm them?"
Joseph fell silent. No one had ever posed such questions to him. Leaving the statue-still man behind, I approached the witches. The child seemed convinced.
"Leaving right away?"
"If you permit it, Saint."
"Very well. I'll handle the cleanup here."
Adriana smiled and bowed in gratitude. Then the girl stepped forward, as if she had something to say.
"My name is Nivea. Someday, I'll repay this kindness."
"Good. Go and be happy."
Nivea would surely become a powerful witch. Aid from her would be welcome.
"Someday, I'll visit Needlestone."
Needlestone was their village's name. Worry creased Adriana's face. The church was their enemy, after all.
"Don't worry. Only I know, and it stays that way."
"Thank you for your consideration, Saint."
The witches bowed once more, took Nivea, and vanished swiftly—no transformation this time, likely for her sake, as she couldn't yet shift.
Joseph remained frozen in place, as if struck by enlightenment. I withdrew the others and waited for him to snap out of it. Only as dusk fell did he stir.
"I apologize for the concern."
He bowed deeply before me first.
"Did you gain anything?"
"Yes. I think I understand Juno's will a little better."
Juno's will? Even I'd struggled after meeting him directly.
"Nothing special."
"Pardon?"
"I met Juno in person. He just spouted nonsense and dumped work on me."
Joseph panicked anew. A normal person saying that would've been beheaded for blasphemy—but I was the saint.
"Truly?"
"What?"
"You really met him?"
"Yes."
Joseph dropped to his knees in prayer. The holy knights and priests followed suit. I sighed and moved before they finished, gathering the villagers in the center.
Left alone, the cursed would die anyway—the cruelest end. Gazing at their trembling forms racked by fear and pain, I invoked the authority of disease.
By the time Joseph and the knights ended their prayers, no living villagers remained. Had I not acted, they'd have done it before we left. Summoning earth spirits, I oversaw the burials as night fell.
"Let's go."
Even with thick skin, camping there felt wrong. We found a clearing nearby and set up camp.
I cooked dinner too. Better than my debut, but the church escorts still fussed over me doing it myself—then devoured it eagerly.
It had been a short but eventful day. Lying down at night, thoughts swirled. Information was power. My nine clones roaming the continent fed me endless intel. Now ten, and growing to hundreds or thousands... nothing would escape my sight. Wouldn't that approach omniscience in this world?
Kutula seemed to know all from the depths without clones. No matter how many I made, I couldn't match that. Was it true omniscience, then?
Lost in deep rumination, time slipped away. Jayke's nudge woke me to morning.
The group resumed the normal journey. In villages and towns along the way, I sought the sick and bestowed healing. The afflicted were everywhere, especially those unable to afford priests or doctors. Tales of the second saint spread, earning us welcomes and tears of joy and thanks.
Some changed profoundly. Joseph and his men—once dreaded as a slaughter squad—shed that image amid the adulation. Their fanaticism merely shifted to me, which was a burden.
Crossing the border at last, we reached the Ktolari Viscountcy. At the territory's edge, Count Ktolari and his ranger unit awaited.
"We've been expecting you, Saint Germain Akasha Viscount."
He looked in his fifties, but this Count Ktolari was the boy Viscount Maice had brought long ago—over a century old.
"It's been a while, Viscount Jace Ktolari."
"Have we met?"
"Yes, ages ago."
He tilted his head at my smile, but no way he'd remember. Guided to the manor, I arranged a private audience.
"What brings the second saint to our house specifically?"
Sudden visits from a newly proclaimed saint raised eyebrows, especially for someone with skeletons like him.
"Didn't he tell you?"
"Pardon?"
He feigned ignorance masterfully. Over a century's polish.
"I'm here to see Kutula."
His face chilled instantly, then recovered.
"You said we met long ago? Weren't you that kid Viscount Maice brought?"
For the first time, he showed undisguised shock.
"What are you?"