"I understand what you mean," Aldric said calmly, "but I need time to think about my own position. I won't make a choice while everything around me is still wrapped in fog."
He retrieved all the jewelry and trinkets he had previously placed on the table, putting them back into his spatial pouch.
As silence lingered between them, he added, "When will the Black Ship arrive? I'll give you my answer before then."
"The night after tomorrow, around the time of the moon's zenith," the witch replied, her tone colder now. "Even if you refuse to help us, I hope you won't turn into a snitch. Otherwise, I'll be greatly disappointed in the witchers' sense of judgment."
"I'll keep my mouth shut." Aldric mimed pulling an invisible zipper across his lips. "Now, if you don't mind, my companion and I would like to leave."
"Hmph. Let's hope you're true to your word." The witch snapped her fingers again. Instantly, Vittoria came back to life, blinking as if waking from a daze. She carefully put the cat figurine back on the shelf where she'd taken it.
"Let's go," Aldric said with a faint, knowing smile. "Seems we can't agree on a price for now. I still have to check prices elsewhere."
The double meaning in his words went right over Vittoria's head. She glanced between him and the witch, a bit confused, but quickly shrugged it off. After taking a swig from her flask, she seemed to forget the whole thing.
As they reached the door, Aldric paused and looked back at the witch. "You did a good job with the cat," he said. "I like it."
After the two left, the witch let out a long breath of relief. Staring into the empty air, she murmured, "That little witcher is a sly one… but he'll make the right choice. Tell the others to prepare. It's time to begin."
"Yes, mistress," a disembodied voice answered from the shadows.
…
Out on the street, Aldric walked in silence, deep in thought about the quest now written in his log. Which side should he choose? Being a witcher had given him access to information and opportunities most could only dream of—but it also placed him in unprecedented danger.
Two factions, two forces, and too many unknowns. How much of what the witch said was true? How much of it had been twisted by emotion—or worse, deliberately fabricated to gain his sympathy?
What was the real nature of the Sisters of the Pure Heart? What secrets lay hidden aboard the Black Ship? Why did the witches want to intercept it? Were they really after the three children she mentioned… or something else entirely?
If those children truly existed, what made them so special? The Witch Coven wouldn't risk open conflict just for three random captives. And if their power was truly as great as the witch implied, they wouldn't need him, a lone witcher apprentice for such a small favor.
So why go through all this trouble and why entrust those three children to him, a stranger? Was it because he was a witcher? Or perhaps because of his teacher, GonzAlagon?
And what if those "three children" were merely a decoy, a distraction? What if the witches' real objective was something else entirely? If that were the case, then by helping them, would he be nothing more than a scapegoat? A convenient pawn to draw the Sisters' attention away from their true plans?
Countless possibilities flashed through his mind. But with so little information, it was impossible to discern the truth hidden behind this web of deceit.
He glanced at the warrior beside him, Vittoria, and recalled her reaction back at the lord's manor. With a sigh, he abandoned the idea of analyzing the situation with her. He suddenly found himself missing his companions from Loess Branch.
(TN: Loess Branch is probably Cathay, the nation he was born in, in the real world.)
Partway through their walk, the warrior spotted a tavern. "I'll go make some contacts," she said, and vanished inside. Moments later, a wave of laughter and cheering erupted from within. Aldric had to admit—if anyone could find a buyer for stolen goods inside a tavern, it was probably her.
When he finally returned to his room, he found the shadow assassin Colin sitting idly at the table. With his one uninjured hand, he was flicking wooden splinters at flies. Several unlucky insects were already pinned to the ceiling by the makeshift projectiles.
Aldric raised an eyebrow. The assassin had traveled far and wide, surely he knew things others didn't. Perhaps he could shed some light on this matter.
"Hey," Aldric said casually, "you ever heard of the Sisters of the Pure Heart?"
Colin, mid-aim, froze. He had already failed four times, and this was his fifth attempt, his chance to redeem his professional pride. But Aldric's question hit him like a thrown dagger. His hand twitched, and the splinter went flying off somewhere useless.
Aldric didn't need to see where it landed. From the assassin's startled expression alone, he knew he'd struck gold. Grinning, he pulled over a chair and sat down, ready to listen.
"Where did you hear that name?" Colin asked, visibly unnerved. "Ah, right—you're a witcher. Of course you'd know something about them. But… wait. Don't tell me you heard that one of their Black Ships is passing nearby?"
"You guessed right," Aldric said smoothly. "And if you don't want your plans to go up in smoke because of some 'unexpected interference,' I suggest you tell me everything you know. My teacher isn't here right now, so it's all up to me."
Technically, it wasn't a lie—if he died, Colin would die with him.
"If your teacher isn't around," the assassin said grimly, "then my advice is this: stay away from them. Pretend you don't even know they exist. That's the only smart move you can make."
That response made Aldric frown. Not a good sign.
"Those women," Colin continued, his tone darkening, "they're insane. I can't even tell whether they or the followers of Chaos are worse." He gestured animatedly with his hand for emphasis. "I've worked with Chaos cultists before—you know that, right?"
Aldric gave no reaction, simply watching him. Colin took that as permission to continue.
"The people who worship Chaos—they're all different. Some are drunk on power. Some are seduced and lose their reason. Most are just plain stupid." Colin puffed his chest slightly, proud of his experience, though the motion made his wounds ache and forced him to wince.
"But those nuns…" he said, lowering his voice, "they're all maniacs. To them, anyone associated with Chaos is guilty in their eyes and the only punishment is death. Burned alive, every last one."
He swallowed hard before going on. "They say those women never stop sailing—constantly commanding their enormous black ships, patrolling region after region. They search for anyone capable of channeling Chaos or burning those who have been tainted by chaos. And when they find them…" Colin looked at Aldric meaningfully. "Trust me. They love their work."
Aldric remained expressionless. "Keep talking."
Colin took a shaky breath. "Once, I took a contract to kill an old sorcerer who'd gone into hiding in a remote village. The man covered his tracks well—I spent twenty days there without finding him. Every villager looked like an ordinary farmer, the most unremarkable kind you could imagine."
His voice grew tense. "Then they came. The battle nuns from the Black Ship. Dozens of them. They stormed into the village, rounding up every single resident into the central square."
"They didn't bother identifying who the sorcerer was. Their plan was simple—burn everyone until he revealed himself."
Aldric's brow furrowed deeply.
(End of Chapter)