The Witch Trial
The air was thick enough to kill with menace. Johan drew his sword without hesitation.
"Planning to rescue her?"
"Do you have a better idea?"
"No... it's a good idea."
Suetlg nodded. Rescuing her was indeed a good idea. Favors to mages always came back around eventually.
Then again, this was the same man who'd tried to kill Caenerna three times not long ago!
"Gerdolf, with me!"
Johan spurred his horse without waiting for an answer. Gerdolf drew his weapon without asking a single question and followed at his heels.
At moments like this very one!
Practicing magic inevitably invited fear. Nothing frightened people like what they could not understand.
His luck is abysmal.
So thought Caenerna with a sigh. There was an old saying that a mage cannot see his own future — she'd never dreamed it would apply to her own life.
Judging by the state of things, she'd be lucky to manage her own affairs, let alone counsel an emperor.
Misfortune impossible to know where to begin tallying.
Losing the knights she'd brought along was one thing — tolerable, even, since she'd managed to gather a few servants and slaves and leave the city behind.
It was rather careless preparation, given how hostile the surroundings were, but Caenerna had a plan. She intended to quietly attach herself to a nearby merchant caravan and travel with them. With her abilities, winning over the merchants would have been easy enough.
The problem was the lunatic mercenaries she'd run into, spouting nonsense like this bridge must not be crossed and any witch must be seized.
The world had its share of zealots so devout not a single needle of doubt could prick through them. And of course, these were exactly the mercenaries she'd crossed paths with.
She'd known mercenaries were a superstitious lot, but she hadn't expected this.
Their ears were so thoroughly sealed that even Caenerna's forceful words bounced right off.
"I told you. I am not a witch."
"Don't lie, witch! The merchants saw you! They saw you casting magic!"
"That is pure magic, not some wicked sorcery. I am an advisor to the Emperor, a court mage of—"
"Cover your ears! The witch is trying to beguile us!"
"Cover them! The captain ordered us to cover our ears!"
"..."
Everyone meets their checkmate eventually. Caenerna knew with cold instinct that this was hers.
But even when mages found themselves in hopeless straits, they did not flail pointlessly.
"Give me a chance, and I will prove I am a mage."
"Ha! Do you take us for madmen?"
"You mean to execute me anyway, don't you? Throw me into a fire. I'll show you magic then."
A few of the mercenaries looked intrigued. She spoke with such confidence that they couldn't help growing curious.
"No! The captain said to throw the witch in the water!"
"I see... He said that knowing a witch would try some trick."
"What trick could she pull if we throw her in fire, though?"
"How should I know? She'd run."
"Wouldn't the same happen if we threw her in the water, then?"
"Then you go tell the captain that yourself."
"...Throw the witch in the water! Throw the witch in the water!"
Caenerna exhaled a long sigh at the sky.
If I somehow survive this, I will burn that captain alive.
Of all things — water?
Dudug-dudug—
From the far end of the bridge, two knights came charging at a full gallop. The mercenaries blocking the way threw themselves aside with screams.
These were the men who were supposed to hold the road — but anyone loyal enough to hurl his body at a charging knight had no business being a mercenary in the first place.
"Wh-what in the h—"
"You idiot! He's a noble!"
"...M-my lords!"
Nearly trampled, the mercenaries couldn't even curse properly, only glancing about uneasily. Johan swept his gaze over them and spoke.
"What's the difference between a mage and a witch?"
"..."
"..."
"Did you really have to ask that now?"
Caenerna said it even while still tied up, thoroughly dumbfounded.
Honestly, there wasn't much difference between a mage and a witch. A wicked mage deserving of the noose was simply called a witch — that was about the extent of common knowledge.
And with nothing more than that to go on, the mercenaries had no answer.
"W-well, she cast magic crossing the bridge, so isn't she a witch? The captain called her one."
"And how do you prove someone's a witch?"
"Throw her off the bridge. If she floats, she's a witch, isn't she?"
"And if she sinks?"
"Then... she isn't?"
"Hm. Chillingly logical."
Realizing Johan was toying with the mercenaries, Caenerna finally spoke up.
"...You came all this way. You might as well help."
"I wished pain and glory upon my own road. It seems pain and glory fill yours as well."
Caenerna flushed faintly at the jab. She was hardly the sort to be rattled by such petty mockery — but circumstances were a little different now.
It was, frankly, a situation humiliating for any mage to be seen in!
"I'm sorry, but this woman is not a witch. A mage... a rather sloppy one, truth be told, which puzzles me — but a mage all the same. A noblewoman guaranteed in her station by His Majesty the Emperor."
Even at Johan's words, the mercenaries showed no sign of backing down. Once people believed something, they bent their thinking to fit it. To their eyes, Johan was a knight bewitched by the witch.
Shk—
When the mercenaries held their ground and refused to yield the road, Johan let out a soft laugh.
"You mean to disobey me, then?"
"You are bewitched by the witch, ser knight."
"Hm. I see."
"?"
Johan agreed so easily that the mercenaries grew flustered instead. What did he mean?
They found out soon enough. Gerdolf charged straight in and hammered the jaw of the mercenary at the front with his fist.
The man was decently built, but one solid blow from Gerdolf dropped him where he stood.
"Wh—?"
Johan strode forward, seized the collar of the nearest mercenary, and threw him.
It looked light — barely any force behind it — yet the man sailed clean off the bridge and plunged into the river with a splash.
Monstrous strength.
The mercenaries went hollow with dread. Drawing a weapon never even crossed their minds.
"Moving? Or not?"
"N-no, but the witch—"
"Right. Don't move."
"Uwaaaaah!"
Another mercenary went flying off the bridge.
The onlookers watching from behind widened their eyes at the bizarre spectacle.
One mercenary after another arced over the bridge like birds, then began plummeting into the river — splash, splash.
"Gwaah! Ghuk!"
They weren't bound, so swimming was an option — but the river was ice cold. Shivering violently, the mercenaries clawed desperately for shore.
"If you want to draw your weapons, go ahead."
Johan said it, but none of them could bring themselves to do it. They understood all too well: he and Gerdolf were deliberately keeping their own weapons sheathed.
If this turned into a bloodbath, the ones who lost most would be the mercenaries themselves.
They stared into Johan's eyes.
Those unshaking eyes carried the weight of a powerful soul. The men who met that gaze found themselves drenched in an inexplicable sense of defeat, their will to fight draining away.
Sneak, sneak—
One by one, the mercenaries surrounding Caenerna stepped aside. Johan had subdued every mercenary on that bridge without swinging his sword once.
He stood before the fallen Caenerna. She looked up at him in silence. There was a fierce resolve in her — a refusal to forfeit her dignity as a mage.
There was no need to mock someone already at your mercy. Johan reached out his hand to her—
"!"
When Gerdolf moved to club Caenerna down as well, Johan grabbed his arm in alarm.
"What are you doing?"
"That mage is not an enemy."
"Ah. S-Sorry, ser."
Caenerna gasped in relief. Somehow, being tangled up with this knight named Johan never seemed to end well for her.
"My apologies. Up you get."
"...I am grateful for the favor."
"Gerdolf. Take this mage with us and see she's protected. No rough handling."
"Yes, ser. I'll remember. I won't hit her even if she talks."
"Even if she looks suspicious, don't throw her in the river."
"Yes, ser. Won't throw her in."
"And... right. Don't whip her either."
"Yes, ser. Won't whip her."
Caenerna took Johan's hand and spoke in a voice utterly drained of composure — tired and desperate.
"...I would be grateful if you simply let me walk there on my own two feet."
Mercenaries might shrink from crossing nobles, but that didn't mean they went limp and groveled at the word noble.
A noble marching uninvited into a mercenary company's camp was a perfect example.
Blocking a bridge could be excused — you could brand anyone coming through a bandit and keep your mouth shut. Wandering into their camp uninvited was another matter entirely.
By both justification and custom, the mercenaries held the higher ground here.
Noble or not, barging in uninvited could get you cut down where you stood. Nearly a hundred-odd mercenaries were not all fools.
Which was why, when Mahrit heard that some knight was waiting outside his tent, he thought he hadn't fully woken from a dream.
"...Someone's here? What nonsense is this?"
"A knight is outside, Captain."
"And what exactly were you all doing?"
"..."
"You worthless idiots!"
Mahrit shot to his feet.
Dozens of his men had been awake — and not one of them had stopped a knight from walking all the way here?
It was so absurd it didn't feel real. His mercenaries hadn't collectively turned into idiots, and the knight hadn't cast any magic either...
Then the prophecy surfaced in his mind, and a cold dread washed over him. He'd followed the prophecy faithfully — and this was what happened? Was this what the prophecy had been warning him about?
"Bring me my sword and armor!"
The slaves scrambled to fetch them. Mahrit pushed back the tent flap and stepped out, face set like stone.
Sure enough, a lone knight was waiting.
Mounted on horseback, meeting his gaze without a hint of deference.
"...?"
The mercenaries nearby stood staring blankly. As if the captain of this company were that knight.
Men who should have been barring his way had, by all appearances, accepted him and parted to let him pass. Mahrit's skin crawled.
Years of running this company had built his dominance, layer by layer.
And in the few strides it took that knight to ride toward him, it felt as if that dominance had been stolen clean away.
"Are you the captain of this company?"
"...I am."
He looks like a fortune-teller.
No wonder Johan thought so — for a mercenary captain, Mahrit wore an absurd number of trinkets and charms.
"Noble or not, barging into a mercenary company's ground like this — isn't that going a bit far?"
At Mahrit's protest, Johan simply nodded.
"Fair. You're right about that."
"...?"
"Then I'll offer you the chance to wash away the insult. Care to face me?"
"!"
Mahrit realized he had badly underestimated this knight.
What—?!
Any ordinary knight would never have offered a chance to redeem his honor against a mercenary. He might insult him, might abuse him — but why on earth would he bother doing this with a mercenary?
And that was precisely what Mahrit had been angling for.
If Johan insulted the captain in front of the whole company, even the mercenaries who'd stepped aside as if bewitched would boil over with fury!
The captain was the face and pride of the company. To insult the captain was to insult every mercenary under him.
Mercenaries were selfish dogs who cared for no one but themselves — but even dogs had the pride of dogs.
Yet Johan, far from insulting or abusing him, was offering him the chance of a warrior's duel.
"Oooooh!"
"Captain! Take him up on it! When else will you ever cross blades with a noble?"
Just as expected, cheers erupted among the mercenaries, awed by Johan's magnanimity and boldness.
Here was a knight who'd ridden alone into the heart of hostile ground and was offering a fair chance with his head held high.
Mahrit knew it in his gut. Refuse this offer, and he became the coward.
He deftly crushed the proposal underfoot and asked instead:
"First I'd hear why a nobleman has come to this place. What business brings you here?"
"I heard wicked men were blocking a bridge."
"...Alone, you say?"
"What, you'd have preferred I brought my soldiers?"
Mahrit flinched at that. There was a dangerous confidence in Johan's words. He had clearly brought a formidable force with him.
Johan swept his gaze over the gathered mercenaries.
"I could have brought soldiers. But that would have been disrespectful to the warriors standing here. Wouldn't you say?"
Laughter broke out — laughter thick with agreement. With a single remark and a single gesture, Johan was binding the mercenaries around him to his will. Perfectly, to a degree that startled even himself.
"Hard as it is to say, we received a contract from a most distinguished person... We are no bandits. You may have heard our company's name..."
"I haven't. Prove it."
Johan gave him neither an escape route nor room to scheme. He intended to seize this moment — while Mahrit was still reeling — and finish the matter for good.
"Prove it. Unless you're a coward."
"..."
The roar of the crowd swelled higher and higher. As if in a trance, Mahrit's hand drifted toward his weapon.