Chapter 25
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 25
Chapter Title: The Witch's Sacrament
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Roberta’s expression hardened.
She watched the young horse bury its face in Ulrich’s chest and weep. At a glance, it looked like it was crying out of happiness. A stranger might see it and think, ‘Ah, it must be reuniting with its master after a long time,’ and smile fondly.
But the truth was entirely different. That young horse was once a person, and it had only just met Ulrich. The reason the young horse was crying was that he was the only one who had recognized the truth.
How could it contain its emotions, having met the one person who understood the misfortune of becoming something other than human?
Ulrich stroked the young horse and said.
“Let’s move. There are too many listening ears here.”
The three people and one horse—no, four people—went to the inn’s stable. The inn was bustling with customers as lunchtime approached, but the stable was quiet. Only their three horses were tied up.
“Write your name on the ground.”
Ulrich said, untying the young horse’s reins. The young horse then scraped the dirt floor with its hoof. The unshod hoof crudely drew letters.
Marika, that was the name she had received as a human. Following that, the name Matthias was written; he was Marika’s father.
Fritz, who had been watching the two names intently, spoke.
“Matthias is the lord of Kir Castle.”
Ulrich nodded.
“A vassal of the Meyers?”
“…Yes. He’s one of my father’s closest confidants.”
Fritz explained that Matthias was a nobleman whose family had been lords of Kir Castle for generations, and he was on such good terms with Count Meyer that they were like brothers. Fritz himself had often met and spoken with him.
“I heard that Matthias had a daughter. But she was so frail… she couldn't leave the castle, and my father mentioned he was worried about her succession because of it.”
“I see.”
Hearing this, the young horse approached Fritz and nuzzled its face against him. Though they had never met, it seemed happy to meet the son of the man its father served.
A moment later, the hoof wrote a third name.
Oksana Narces. Next to the full name, the word “witch” was added. It asserted that this was the culprit who had done this to the girl, the claim dug deeper into the dirt than when it had written its own name.
*She, this witch, made me like this. The witch, jealous of me, turned me into something not human, and in my father's absence, tried to offer me as a tribute to the heavens.*
Marika gestured as if trying to show the wounds on her body, lifting and lowering a leg that would never reach, like a person trying to touch their own back.
The numerous wounds on the young horse’s body were the marks of the girl’s narrow escape from death.
“Narces…”
Roberta frowned as she repeated the surname.
“She must be a considerably skilled witch.”
“She would be. Mages reveal their level through their surname.”
They looked at Oksana Narces’s full name again.
The name Oksana was new to them. But the surname Narces was impossible not to know. He was one of the Five Sages who laid the foundations of magic in the first age of humanity.
To list the accomplishments of those five would be too long a story. However, one fact worth knowing was that mages attached the name of their master or one of the Five Sages to the end of their full name.
“Excuse me, what does that mean…?”
Fritz, not understanding the conversation, asked cautiously.
“Does that mean she’s a disciple of this Narces person? The witch?”
“No, it means there was no one else worthy of being her master besides Narces.”
Mages typically use their master’s name as their surname. It was a custom for a master to bestow their name upon a disciple when they deemed the disciple’s achievements sufficient.
However, there were occasional cases where a disciple’s achievements surpassed their master’s. In such cases, most would refuse their master’s surname. Mages were a very prideful bunch, after all. Unwilling to bear the name of someone less skilled, they would instead use the surname of their academic lineage’s founder—that is, one of the Five Sages.
Oksana was such a case. The fact that she used Narces as her surname meant that her academic lineage began with Narces. It also meant that she prided herself on being an outstanding mage.
“Truly a pity.”
“A pity?”
Roberta tilted her head.
“Narces was the most open-minded of the five. He believed that anyone with talent could learn magic and that one should treat people with such an open heart. Roberta, haven’t you heard stories about him?”
“Yes, I have. Most mages today trace their lineage back to Narces. Because he took on such disciples, people gathered without regard for poverty, class, or race, and their numbers were so great they formed a city, right?”
“Correct. That city is the City of Mages, and though its power has waned, its lineage continues.”
“But why do you say it’s a pity…?”
Ulrich shook his head.
“Look at how his name is being used. The compassion he held for the ignorant is nowhere to be found; it is used merely as a tool to display her own confidence, is it not?”
He stroked the face of the girl-turned-horse, Marika, and said.
“If she had understood even a fraction of his heart, she would never have dared to do such a thing to this child.”
What had been cast on the girl was a vulgar sort of magic, commonly called a curse.
“She is a mage skilled enough to perform on another what is difficult even to perform on oneself. Though we can notice it being this close, this is a world full of mages who couldn’t even do that.”
To use such talent for such a despicable act, he said.
Roberta thought that was absolutely true. When had she ever seen magic capable of changing a being’s form to that of another species? Only twice in her life. The first time had been on the ice peninsula, when the dragon Narvakayani had transformed into a human.
Of course, the magic cast on Marika was not on the same level as Narvakayani’s. Any other priest or mage, not just Roberta, could realize that Marika was under some kind of spell.
The dragon, on the other hand, lived up to the saying, ‘a mage who holds a fragment of myth.’ If she had met the human-formed Narvakayani in a different place, she would never have realized he was a dragon.
“So what do we do now? Is there a way to reverse it?”
“The most common way is for the person who cast the curse to undo it themselves.”
*Is that even possible?* The words caught in her throat.
As if reading her thoughts, he added, *It would be difficult.*
“Is there no other way?”
“There is, but it’s not a very good one.”
Ulrich spoke to Fritz.
“Let’s meet the mage first. Fritz, lead the way to Kir Castle.”
#
Lord Matthias was a tall, handsome man with well-defined features. Despite being a father to a young girl and having taken a second wife, he was not yet forty. When Ulrich arrived at Kir Castle under the alias Armin of Dithmarschen, Matthias came out to the castle gate to greet him personally.
“Did you say you are Lord Armin?”
He had likely never heard the name, but with “of Dithmarschen” preceding it, he couldn’t ignore it. That title was only given to the children of the Duke of Dithmarschen.
The King of Osnover was Ulrich’s adopted son, and Matthias’s own lord was a vassal who had served the Duke for generations. This was not a name he could dismiss simply because he hadn’t heard it before.
Thus, he appeared nervous. His eyes and mouth smiled, but the sweat on his brow was not from the summer heat.
“That is correct. Duke Ulrich of Dithmarschen is my adoptive father.”
“My apologies. I had heard that the Duke of Dithmarschen had several adopted sons, but I am not familiar with all their names…”
Matthias glanced up at Ulrich, who was seated on his horse.
“Well, I understand. My father is a rather unrestrained man. Even I don’t know all of my older brothers, so it would be strange for you to know of me, my lord.”
Ulrich smiled faintly.
Roberta felt her skin crawl watching him from the side. Even though she had been warned he would be using a pseudonym and acting, seeing it firsthand was hard to get used to.
This persona did suit his appearance, though. Ulrich looked to be about her age. If anything, it was stranger for someone with such a fresh face to speak of the passage of time. Had she not known Ulrich’s history, she wouldn’t have found it the least bit odd.
‘It can’t be helped. It’s better to hide his identity like this.’
Ulrich’s name was far too famous.
While few might know it outside of Osnover, there was no one within its borders who didn’t. He could have revealed his identity and interrogated Matthias and Oksana, but he chose the more certain, if slightly roundabout, path.
The name that came out of it was Armin. Roberta had immediately asked if he had ever used the name before. To which he had replied, ‘It would be faster to find a name I haven’t used.’
“This is my guard, Roberta.”
Roberta, dressed in plain clothes, bowed. She too was hiding her identity, playing the part of a young knight.
“And you already know Fritz, I presume?”
Lord Matthias’s eyes widened when he spotted Fritz in the group.
“Young Master? My… it is good to see you again.”
“It’s been a while, Lord Matthias.”
The lord’s suspicious demeanor vanished in an instant. This was none other than his own master’s son, vouching for them; there was no room for doubt.
“You’ve grown so much. And you’ve come to resemble the Count a great deal.”
“Do you think so?”
“Yes. Blood truly doesn’t lie, it seems. You were so young when the Count sent you to Dithmarschen… It is a relief to see you have grown up so healthy.”
As the lord dabbed at his eyes with his sleeve, Fritz gave an awkward smile.
“Are you here on your way to the main estate?”
“That’s right. We were delayed on our way to see my father. We were hoping to stay the night, if that’s alright?”
“Of course it’s alright! If it’s not alright for you two, then who would it be alright for?”
Just then, Ulrich, who had been listening to their conversation, asked.
“If I may be so rude, who is the lady beside you?”
He gestured to a woman standing next to the lord.
“Oh, where are my manners.”
She was a woman in a dress so long it touched the floor. She had stood silently since Ulrich’s party arrived to be greeted, and only now, upon being noticed, did she dip her head in a slight bow.
“This is my wife, Oksana Narces.”
Oksana kissed the back of Ulrich’s right hand.
“Narces… I’ve never met anyone who uses that name as their surname before.”
“Is that so? I would have thought the Duke of Dithmarschen would have many mages under his command.”
“It’s a barren land. Even mages get fed up and leave quickly.”
Ulrich smiled faintly again as he looked at Oksana.
“But to have taken such a person as your wife, you are a fortunate man.”
“Yes. It seems Lady Hestio has truly smiled upon me.”
Matthias laughed, “Haha,” and clung to Oksana’s side. Oksana lowered her face, feigning shyness.
At that moment, Roberta, who had stepped back a few paces to observe the conversation, narrowed her eyes. Oksana’s gaze shifted to a target far removed from the conversation.
“……”
Her eyes landed on the horse Fritz was riding.
That horse was Marika. The girl who had been turned into a horse by Oksana’s curse was now saddled and bridled, carrying Fritz. Outwardly, it just looked like Fritz was riding a slightly small horse, so there was no reason to pay it any mind.
‘She’s not looking because she feels something is off.’
Roberta watched Oksana’s reaction closely. Throughout the entire conversation between Ulrich and Matthias, she would chime in while repeatedly letting her attention drift to Marika.
And each time, a myriad of emotions would flash across her face and vanish in an instant. Bewilderment, anger, disgust—a fleeting exposure of emotions, difficult to catch unless one was watching closely.
If she had sensed an anomaly in the flow of mana, as Roberta had, there would be no reason for such expressions.
Oksana had realized that the horse Fritz was riding was Marika.
‘Of course she realized. Not after what she’s done.’
Roberta discreetly signaled Fritz.
At that, Marika, who had been staring at the ground, lifted her head and met Oksana’s gaze.
Immediately after, Marika let out a cry and reared up on her hind legs. Acting up like a horse stung by a bee, Fritz gripped the saddle tightly, struggling not to fall off.
“Fritz! What’s wrong?”
Ulrich feigned ignorance, asking with a frown.
“I don’t know! It must be unhappy about something again!”
Fritz feigned an attempt to calm Marika and sighed. To a casual observer, it looked as if the horse had simply thrown a tantrum.
Oksana was different. She saw Marika act up the moment their eyes met, and through this, her expression showed her suspicion turning to certainty. While everyone else’s attention was on Marika, Oksana’s face contorted as she glared at the horse.
“It seems the young thing hasn’t been properly trained.”
The lord tut-tutted, looking at Marika.
“Yes, we actually acquired her in a hurry in Tenoph City…”
“Is that so?”
Just as he was about to explain, Oksana cut in.
“You acquired her in Tenoph City?”
“The horse I was riding had a problem. We managed to find this one, but as you can see, she has a bit of a temper. Well, I was prepared for it.”
A strange light shone in her eyes.
“My dear, why don’t we offer Lord Armin some assistance?”
She suggested to the lord that they give him a horse.
“No, that’s quite alright.”
But Ulrich waved his hand, refusing.
“I wouldn’t want to burden you, my lord.”
“Still… isn’t the horse too wild?”
“As you just saw, it’s not a major problem. Fritz needs the experience of handling a horse like this anyway.”
But, as she tried to continue, the lord cut her off.
“He said it’s fine.”
The lord looked at Oksana with a stern expression. He had lost his patience after she had not only interrupted Ulrich and himself several times but had also acted in a way that was close to demanding.
Oksana lowered her head without a word. She bit her lip in frustration. She looked anxious. And why wouldn’t she? Until their visit, she must have been certain the matter was finished.
If things had gone according to plan, Marika should have been slaughtered. But here she was, appearing out of nowhere. And in front of Lord Matthias, of all people—the one person who must never find out.
From Oksana’s perspective, the current situation must have seemed like the last chance before disaster, Roberta thought.
Matthias and Armin’s party seemed completely oblivious to Marika’s true identity. That must be why she had tried to offer another horse, intending to get her hands on Marika again and dispose of her, but she had missed her chance right before her eyes.
What if Armin’s party left as they were? It would only be a matter of time before her deeds were exposed. People familiar with mana, like priests or mages, were a dime a dozen. The moment one of them saw Marika, they would sense something was wrong, just as Roberta had.
“You’re only staying for one night?”
Lord Matthias asked.
“We’re almost to the Meyer estate. We plan to leave first thing tomorrow morning.”
At the mention of leaving tomorrow, Oksana’s shoulders trembled. She followed the lord into the castle, watching the party. Among them, she glared at Marika, the young horse Fritz was riding, with savage eyes.