The Ash Witch (1)
“I plan to stay for a few days.”
Dalen picked up a lamb chop, the steam rising from it. It was the most expensive dish at the tavern.
They said it was lightly smoked, then wrapped in herbs and steamed for four hours.
Recalling the server’s explanation, Dalen took a bite, savoring the meat from end to end.
“Mmm.”
Juices filled his mouth as the tender meat fell apart. There was no trace of the usual gamey taste of lamb.
Instead, the subtle aroma of herbs enhanced the flavor, making it even more savory.
“It’s good you’re taking a break, even if it’s just for a few days. You need to rest properly, especially after such a long journey.”
Volkmar nodded, ordering more lamb chops for himself. He picked up a rib and asked, “So, are you two traveling together?”
“Yes. I’ll be accompanying Dalen while he’s on assignment for the Holy Knights.”
It was Lucia who answered, not Dalen. She glanced sideways as she spoke.
Dalen, chewing on his food, reached for another rib. Catching her gaze, he raised an eyebrow but remained focused on the delicious lamb. This place really knows how to cook lamb chops.
“A mission for the Holy Knights? Can you tell me more about it?”
Volkmar’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. Lucia shook her head apologetically.
“I’m afraid I can’t disclose the details. It’s a sensitive matter.”
“Of course, I understand. My apologies for prying.”
Volkmar quickly apologized, just as the server brought out another plate of lamb chops.
Dalen, having already finished three ribs, naturally reached for the new plate. It seemed the dish was popular enough to be prepared in advance despite its price.
The three continued their meal, the table laden with lamb chops, stew, meat pies, and beer.
As time passed, Volkmar became more talkative, tipsy from the low-alcohol beer.
He rambled on about how the influx of merchants had lowered city prices and how three mandrake roots would be up for auction soon.
His stories were the kind that would interest merchants.
Having experienced such chatter at the Crow’s Nest before, Dalen focused on eating without much response.
Lucia, caught in the middle, found herself awkwardly nodding along, neither fully eating nor conversing.
After about an hour, Volkmar, his face flushed like a beet, stood up.
“Ha! I’ll head up first. Need to shake off the travel fatigue and start fresh tomorrow. I’ve put the meal on my tab, so eat and drink as much as you like before you rest!”
Humming a tune, the merchant headed upstairs to the inn.
Dalen watched him go, then called the server to order more lamb chops and a bottle of fine liquor.
It was then that Lucia spoke up.
“So, what exactly is this task you mentioned?”
Before leaving the labyrinth city, Dalen had told her he had something to do in Revivach.
He just hadn’t explained what it was yet.
Dalen placed the cleaned rib bones on his plate and replied, “I’m going to kill a witch.”
Lucia’s eyes widened.
“A witch…?”
Her reaction was delayed. Dalen nodded in response.
She immediately looked around, her face showing alarm.
The inn’s tavern was noisy, with no one paying them any attention.
Well, almost no one.
“Here’s your herb-steamed lamb and Revivach’s specialty liquor. The liquor is strong, so I recommend diluting it with water.”
Clink.
The server placed the dishes, bottle, and two wooden cups on the table, then cleared away the empty plates.
Once he left, even that one pair of eyes was gone. Lucia, still tense, asked again.
“Are you talking about the witch I think you are?”
“Yes.”
Pop.
The cork came off, releasing a bitter, potent aroma. Dalen grinned. This should be good.
“Mandrakes are elusive plants.”
Pour.
Dalen poured the liquor into a cup, setting the stage for his explanation.
“Before their distinctive red flowers bloom, even experienced herbalists can’t tell them apart from weeds. Not that it matters much. A mandrake without flowers is immature and practically useless as an herb.”
“Where there’s one mandrake, there are usually a few more nearby… So that’s what it meant.”
“Surprising. Do they teach that in the Holy Knights these days?”
Lucia smiled slightly. “I read it in the main library. I was quite the bookworm when I was young.”
“I see.”
Dalen gave a short reply and took a sip.
Revivach’s liquor was strong.
The warmth spread down his throat and into his stomach, leaving a bitter, slightly unpleasant aftertaste from the herbs.
“Revivach thrives on herbs. Do you know how many mandrakes usually grow here in a year?”
“Two or three, perhaps? Even in a city of herbs, they’re rare.”
“Exactly. About that many. But have you heard how many have been found in Revivach recently?”
“I heard over fifty have been found near the city gates.”
Dalen nodded.
“That’s just the rumor. The fact that so many merchants have flocked here means the real number is likely much higher.”
“Which means…”
“The forest is teeming with mandrakes, possibly hundreds. It’s not a bounty; it’s a disaster.”
Lucia’s expression darkened.
Mandrakes were legendary for their healing properties, but they were also known for their deadly scream when uprooted.
The magic in that scream could stop a listener’s heart.
If hundreds screamed at once, everyone near the forest could be wiped out.
Even if they weren’t all uprooted at once, it was still a ticking time bomb.
Dalen poured another drink. “I know there’s a witch living nearby. One particularly hostile to humans. This mandrake surge is likely her doing.”
“Then we should go after her immediately!”
Lucia stood up abruptly. Dalen chuckled and asked, “Do you know where she is?”
“Wouldn’t she be in the forest where the mandrakes are found?”
“So we just charge into the forest?”
Dalen’s amused question made Lucia pause.
The witches she knew were born with innate magical prowess.
They were monsters who could overpower even the most talented and hardworking sorcerers with sheer bloodline power.
And it was well-known that when sorcerers plotted something, they fortified their territory with spells and traps.
Charging into the forest would only lead to getting caught in the witch’s traps, risking their lives.
Even if they miraculously got through, the witch would likely escape through her own secret exit.
”…It won’t be easy.”
Lucia frowned, unable to see a clear solution.
Dalen refilled his cup and said, “Don’t worry about getting to the witch.”
Lucia looked up sharply. Dalen gave a low chuckle and nodded toward the inn’s window.
The sun was still high, its rays streaming through the bars. He said, “When the sun sets, it’s the perfect time for witches and dark sorcerers to make their move.”
Night fell. Dalen and Lucia headed to the city’s back alleys.
Revivach was a small city, and its back alleys weren’t large either.
But with the recent influx of outsiders, the back alley businesses were thriving like never before.
“Place your bets! Match the dice and turn silver into gold!”
“Hey there, gentlemen, why not take a break at our place?”
Passing through a red-light district filled with brothels, illegal gambling dens, and drug dealers, they arrived at a shabby building.
“Is this the place?”
Lucia asked.
She was cloaked in a wide, dark robe, concealing her entire body.
To avoid detection by the dark sorcerer, she had even suppressed her holy power.
‘A light that blends into the shadows. It’s a C-rank skill, used only by inquisitors in the order.’
Inquisitors’ main task was to hunt down and eliminate evil within the order.
This often required them to hide their identity as holy knights.
The skill to conceal holy power was something players could occasionally see Lucia use during stealth missions in the game.
“Looks like it’s a C-rank skill. I don’t know how it works, but the effect is undeniable.”
Dalen mused as he observed Lucia, her entire body concealed beneath a robe.
Even his keen senses couldn’t detect the usual subtle aura that surrounded her.
Of course, even without sensing any aura, he could tell from her stance and breathing that she was a skilled swordswoman.
“Not that those second-rate dark mages would have such keen eyes.”
With that thought, Dalen grasped the doorknob and knocked three times.
Thud, thud, thud.
It wasn’t long before he heard movement from inside the building. A small window above the door slid open with a creak.
A man with half-closed eyes and buck teeth peered out, scanning Dalen from head to toe before speaking.
“Yawn… Who are you looking for? Just so you know, this isn’t a place that sells women or drugs.”
His voice was laced with boredom, as if he couldn’t be bothered.
The man’s appearance, rubbing sleep from his eyes, was that of an ordinary back-alley dweller.
Yet, the ominous aura of magic surrounding him and the faint scent of blood and potions told a different story.
The answer was clear.
“A dark mage.”
Of course.
Dalen had come to one of the few places in the city where dark mages gathered to sell their skills.
It was also one of the places where the Ash Witch had hidden her identity before she became active.
Dalen scratched his nose absentmindedly and asked in a slightly awkward tone.
“I heard there’s an old woman here who’s good at fortune-telling. Did I come to the wrong place?”
The buck-toothed dark mage raised an eyebrow, then chuckled wryly.
“Ah, you’re that kind of customer.”
The window slid shut. Soon, the sound of locks and bolts being undone echoed, and the wooden door creaked open.
“Come in. We can talk inside.”
The dark mage grinned as he welcomed them. Dalen stepped inside slowly.
The interior was dark. Without a single torch, it was impossible to tell if it was a hallway or a large room.
Dalen hesitated, as if afraid of the darkness.
It was the demeanor of a northern barbarian, terrified of dark magic.
”…”
Lucia followed, her head bowed, clutching his cloak.
It was the script they had agreed upon before leaving the inn.
A barbarian and his servant, clad in a worn robe.
“Heh heh. Your servant clings to you like a loyal puppy,” the dark mage remarked, eyeing Lucia.
Dalen felt her grip tighten beneath the robe’s sleeve.
“Sniff, sniff. Smells like a young woman. Isn’t it a waste to keep her as just a servant?”
“My father gave her to me when I left the tribe. Don’t get any ideas.”
He patted her hand reassuringly.
A silent sigh, and her grip loosened slightly.
Unaware of how close he had come to danger, the dark mage shut the door once they were inside.
As he locked it again, he spoke.
“The old woman’s away for a while. But I can do some fortune-telling myself, so don’t think about leaving without paying. You know how terrifying a dark mage’s curse can be, especially if you’re from the north.”
His tone was both a warning and a threat.
Once the door was locked, the pitch-black darkness receded, revealing a spacious room.
Fwoosh—
A fire blazed, and magic stones embedded in the ceiling glowed.
Despite the oppressive brick walls with no windows, the room was large enough to feel open.
This underground space was entirely different from what it seemed from the outside.
A secret lair for dark mages, the door’s opening and closing triggered a barrier that connected the aboveground and underground spaces.
“What’s this, Bucktooth? Customers already?”
“A big one, too. Welcome. How about testing your fate with a pinky promise over the cauldron? Heh heh.”
Several people were already inside the room.
An old man leaned against a counter, surrounded by bottles and books like an apothecary.
A bald man fiddled with a cracked crystal ball on a mat.
A wild-haired woman stirred a cauldron, concocting a stew of strange colors.
Dalen smiled slightly, extending his senses.
The barrier set by the Ash Witch prevented anyone from seeing inside from the outside.
But once inside and the door locked, his senses were free to explore the space.
His keen perception swept through the room, feeling the flow of magic.
The buck-toothed man’s words were true.
The Ash Witch wasn’t here.
Only a ragtag group of dark mages clinging to this small city.
And since it was just the start of their activities, there were no other customers to get caught in the crossfire.
“So, what kind of luck does our barbarian need… hmm?”
The buck-toothed dark mage turned after locking the door, puzzled by the fierce smile on Dalen’s lips.
Sensing something amiss, he opened his mouth to speak.
But Dalen’s hand moved faster.
“Gah…!”
A thick hand swept across the dark mage’s face, sending him sprawling, teeth and blood scattering.
The room’s atmosphere froze.
Dalen pressed his foot gently on the half-conscious man’s head and spoke.
“Thank you for your patience. You may now fulfill your duty as a paladin.”
Without a word, Lucia drew her sword.
A brilliant white light seeped through the gaps in her robe.