Chapter 222: The Tin Knight and the Tower of Greed (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 222: The Tin Knight and the Tower of Greed (2)
The Witch of the North did not have a fixed residence.
To be precise, she rotated between various mansions located within the domains of each magic tower.
This was not because the Witch of the North was extravagant, but for largely political reasons.
The Witch of the North was a figure of immense symbolic importance to the Magic State, and for such a person to associate with one particular magic tower for too long could disrupt the balance between them.
The story might have been different if the Witch of the North had thrown a fit, declaring she couldn't care less about such matters, or if she had strongly insisted on living as she pleased. Unfortunately, the benevolent witch didn't have the heart to refuse such well-intentioned invitations.
Of course, this didn't mean the magic towers tried to control the Witch of the North as they pleased.
The mansion prepared by the Tower of Protection, for instance, was built in a very remote and secluded place, respecting the Witch of the North's wish to avoid contact with others as much as possible.
A top-class mansion, nestled deep within a forest, yet perfectly equipped with all manner of conveniences.
The value of the building, plastered with special magic tools from the Tower of Protection—the kind that even the continent's most renowned magnates couldn't easily acquire, no matter how much money they offered—was difficult to calculate. Yet the heart of the Witch of the North, who resided there, was anything but at ease.
“Ah, Lot, Lot. Why did you do such a thing? Why?”
A deep sigh escaped the lips of the Witch of the North, Orin.
Though she had the appearance of a young girl, she was a Great Witch and a sage who had lived for over several hundred years.
Therefore, she could recognize the evidence Dorothea’s party had brought as genuine, and she understood how much harm her own confirmation of its authenticity would cause the Tower of Control.
If she had her way, she would not want to do anything that could harm her former student and his descendants.
But knowing the tragedy that had befallen Adelaide and the knights of Friedel, she could not turn a blind eye to their suffering.
Unable to coldly sever ties with either side, the benevolent witch suffered alone.
For a long while, she did nothing but sigh, clutching a dilemma with no clear solution.
Suddenly, an object caught Orin’s eye.
It was a skull, slightly larger than a fist.
It was the object the Witch of the East's apprentice had given her, saying her master had told her to pass it on.
The Queen of the Dead. The most infamous Necromancer on the continent.
As an item entrusted to an apprentice by such a figure, this skull must also possess some special power…
…It didn't.
“What could it mean?”
Resting her chin on her hand, Orin stared at the skull she had received from Dorothea for a long time.
But no matter how she examined it, the skull held no particular magic or mana.
It had undergone a simple preservation treatment to prevent it from being easily damaged by external stimuli, but that was something any ordinary mage could do, not just the Queen of the Dead.
It wasn't an item worthy of the Witch of the East sending someone to deliver to the Witch of the North.
But to think of it as a simple prank or a bit of mischief was difficult, for while the Witch of the East might have an eccentric personality, she was not one to act without reason.
So, to interpret this…
Perhaps the meaning isn't in the object itself, but in the person who delivered it?
Perhaps the very act of Dorothea's party meeting the Witch of the North was what held significance?
“Maybe I should just ask her outright… Hmm?”
At that moment, something registered on Orin’s senses.
The mansion where Orin stayed was a veritable gift basket of amenities, but surprisingly, it was not particularly well-prepared in terms of security.
This wasn't because the Tower of Protection was unconcerned for Orin's safety, but because it was impossible for them to construct a defense superior to Orin's own, no matter how hard they tried.
To put it more bluntly, the more they meddled, the weaker the defenses protecting Orin became.
A barrier, in essence, is much like architecture; one built by an expert from the ground up with a thorough plan is far stronger and more solid than one amateurishly patched up. Given Orin's disposition, if the Tower of Protection had already prepared a barrier, she would simply tolerate it rather than tear it down, even if it interfered with her own work.
Thus, the barriers around the mansion were all cast by Orin herself, and their perfection was such that she could, if she wished, prevent even a single tiny gnat from intruding.
And now, Orin was notified that someone had made contact with the outskirts of that barrier.
It wasn't anyone from the Tower of Protection. Nor was it Gale.
“Lot?”
That’s right.
It was Orin's former student, the man who was once a young boy but had now become a full-fledged old man. He was calling to her from outside the barrier.
Orin almost reflexively rushed out to greet her student, but a sense of caution, though diminished, had not vanished entirely and held her feet in place.
If this were an official visit, the Tower of Protection would have informed her in some way.
But she had received no such contact, which meant this visit was an unauthorized action, taken without consulting the other towers.
Even in her currently clouded state of judgment, Orin was not so far gone as to miss the strangeness of the situation.
Just as Orin’s hand reached for the magic tools that the head of the Tower of Protection and Gale had each left her, telling her to call them anytime she needed something…
“Master… no, Teacher Orin. You can hear me, I'm sure.”
She flinched, her body trembling.
“I know you must be greatly disheartened. That, too, is due to the failings of this unworthy student. I apologize from the bottom of my heart.”
Her student, now a full-fledged old man, was speaking to her in the tone of his younger self.
“I was momentarily blinded. Under the pretext of reviving my bloodline, with the excuse of wanting to leave my children even a little more, I committed an act that no human should.”
Orin's eyes wavered greatly.
The goodness remaining within her stirred.
“I know this must sound like an excuse. And I know you must be bewildered by my sudden appearance. But I knew that if others learned of this, they would use any means necessary to prevent us from meeting, so I had no other choice.”
Knowing that she could contact the others if she just reached her hand out a little, just a little bit more, Orin quietly withdrew it.
All the while, the aged student's words continued.
“Teacher. This student shamelessly asks for your help. Please, help me. It is only right that I pay for my sins, but as things stand, the other children who committed no crime will be swept up in this as well. I need your help to prevent that. Please, give me one chance.”
After speaking, the student bowed his head with a sorrowful expression and remained motionless.
As if he would wait forever until she gave him an answer.
After a long hesitation, Orin finally opened a part of the barrier, creating a path for her student to enter.
The student expressed his gratitude and walked to the mansion where she lived.
Orin watched carefully to see if anyone was following him, but when she saw that Lotbart had truly come alone, she relaxed a little.
“Thank you, Teacher. For trusting me.”
“What happened, Lot? How did it come to this?”
Lotbart let out a deep sigh.
“I know that whatever I say will be an excuse. My sins can never be forgiven.”
“Lot.”
“I want to apologize to that girl, to Friedel’s bereaved family.”
Lotbart lowered himself and knelt.
“I, this old student, was the one who orchestrated this affair, so please, direct the arrows of blame only at me. My children were only following orders, so I beg you to show them leniency.”
“…That won’t be easy. The girl’s anger and sorrow are immense.”
“I know. That is why I am asking you, Teacher. Please, I only ask that you prepare a place for me to apologize.”
Lotbart’s eyes grew moist.
At the sight of her student's wrinkled face, feelings of pity and sorrow surged within Orin's heart.
In the end, Orin nodded.
“Alright, I understand. I don’t know if the girl will forgive you, but I will at least try to create a place where you can face her and ask for forgiveness.”
“Thank you, Teacher.”
“There’s no need to thank me. Huu, how should I handle this?”
Thinking there was much to be done, Orin shook her head.
She couldn't bring back the dead, but she should at least be able to compensate the bereaved families with her power.
Orin thought about the tasks ahead.
And for a single moment, she completely let down her guard against the student standing with her.
Shluk.
Something sharp pierced through Orin's back.
From between the Witch of the North's breasts, an emerald-green blade glittered bewitchingly.
No blood flowed.
Physical ambushes were meaningless against her, as she was unconsciously wrapped in all sorts of defensive magic.
Therefore, what the emerald blade had pierced was not her flesh.
It was her heart.
The seal that had imprisoned the evil witch shattered, a great hole torn through it.
From within, someone began to crawl out, scattering peals of mad laughter.
“No, I must say it again and again. Thank you truly, Teacher. —For believing in this student.”
Lotbart’s tone was unchanged.
He had already achieved his goal, so it wouldn't have mattered if he revealed his true colors.
He could have mocked her foolishness or boasted of his acting skills while shoving the truth in her face.
But Lotbart maintained his respectful, composed demeanor.
That, more than any blame, insult, or ridicule, was what tore Orin's heart to shreds.
For it meant that even as he betrayed and stabbed his own master, not a single ripple of emotion disturbed the student's heart.
Orin squeezed out one last phrase.
“But, why?”
Lotbart Rognir.
The boy who was once her student, the gray-haired old man who now walked a different path, answered simply.
“You are a great teacher. However, the master who is ‘useful’ to me is another. That is all.”
That cold denial was the good witch Orin's final memory.
Deeper, and deeper.
She fell into an endless, bottomless darkness.
“—Hah.”
And then, another Witch of the North opened her eyes.