Chapter 19

Inside the castle infirmary, Aella, Galahad, and Edward were resting. It was fortunate that Edward's arm had been successfully stitched back. The Witch arrived and examined his arm, using her special needles and thread to skilfully sew it back together. Her origins remained unknown, but like the other exceptional individuals residing in Yosnad, King Borosik seemed to possess a charm that attracted these extraordinary people to stay and serve him.

As the Witch finished her task, she turned to the three recovering warriors with a gentle smile. "Rest well, my friends," she said softly. "Your wounds will heal swiftly under my care. There is no need to worry about that arm knight Edward" Aella, grateful for the witch's assistance, nodded appreciatively. "We owe you our thanks," she said, her voice filled with sincerity. "Your skills are truly remarkable."

The Witch's eyes sparkled with a hint of mystery as she replied, her voice carrying an air of ancient wisdom, "I merely fulfill my purpose. Yosnad has a way of drawing together those who are meant to be here." Suddenly, she lifted her head, a sinister smile playing on her lips. "Seems like the general is here. The war with the goblins is still ongoing, and he will need to discover the new goblin king's strengths and weaknesses in this battle."

The general entered the room shortly after, his footsteps echoing ominously. As he caught sight of the witch, he gave a wince, but he forced a respectful bow to acknowledge the power of Yosnad. "Thank you, Elizabeth Ashcroft, "My men have recovered remarkably under your excellent treatment." Despite being of higher rank in the kingdom, the general believed in giving credit to those with talents in their fields. The witch, though peculiar, possessed extraordinary skills in both black and white magic. Rumors whispered that her white magic rivaled the healing power of the Archpriest, and her Black magic is unrivaled in the whole world.

Elizabeth Ashcroft glanced at the general and his men, mustering a smile before swiftly exiting the room. As she left, an unsettling aura lingered, suffocating the very air within. The remaining occupants in the room collectively released a sigh, grateful for her magical healing powers, yet haunted by an indescribable sense of unease.

General Lance, breaking the tense silence, addressed the group. His voice quivered slightly, betraying the gravity of the situation. "I have been briefed on the report by Harold. You three should express your gratitude when the opportunity arises. Had he not intervened, the sinister fate that awaited each of you would have been far from merciful." The three nod their head, they are well aware of the situation where they were defeated by Zarku.

"Right now, on the battlefield, Alfred had stationed his men in a defensive stance. The goblin army had also suffered losses from Alfred and Eadgar. Both of them had worked out the defense strategy and managed to keep the castle safe, at least for now." "I will need the three of you to go and meet up with Alfred and Eadgar to work out the offensive".

At that moment, both Alfred and Eadgar walked into the infirmary. Eadgar spoke with concern, "The goblin camp seems unnervingly quiet. They may be scheming a surprise attack." He turned his gaze towards his brother, worry etched across his face. "Are you truly alright? I feared you might never regain the use of your arm."

Edward smirked, "Nah, I'm fine. Our Witch Elizabeth did a splendid job in reattaching it." He flexed his arm and swing it a few times. Galahad and Aella too, having finished inspecting their wounds, had seemingly healed miraculously from the grievous injuries inflicted by the goblin king.

General Lance turned to Eadgar, his voice tinged with skepticism. "Why do you suspect these filthy goblins of planning a surprise attack? They lack strategists in their ranks. Today's battle proved that they are nothing more than mindless chargers. Alfred and his men easily repelled them and the goblin commander Zeeke."

Eadgar's eyes darted around the room, his voice barely above a whisper. "Indeed, there may be no goblin strategists among them, but the sudden transformation of Zarku, his newfound powers... We know nothing of the dark master who bestowed them upon him. "

The room fell into silence when the discussion took a turn to the unknown power causing the transformation of the goblin king. The atmosphere grew heavy with dread, and it was clear that charging in now without a solid plan would be futile.

Alfred, the leader, swiftly turned to his knights, his voice filled with urgency. "Ensure that everyone has regained their composure and gather your gear. We shall reconvene for a strategy meeting at the front line. General, will you be joining us as well?"

"Yes," replied the General, his tone grave. "I will accompany all of you to the meeting. However, there is something else we need to address. In Harold's report on the goblin king, he mentioned the possibility of Zarku being possessed by a demonic entity. Likely, the goblin king himself is already an undead creature." General Lance proceeded to share the chilling discovery made by Harold regarding the presence of demonic essence within the goblin nest.

A shiver ran down Alfred's spine as he nervously stroked his mustache. "The idea of an undead goblin king is deeply unsettling. We must uncover its true weakness—how to truly kill it. Mere dismemberment or decapitation might not be enough to prevent its regeneration, and that was proven when Harold cut off its neck and Aella cut it into multiple pieces.

Galahad chimed in, his voice filled with apprehension. "The secret must be those black tendrils, they repaired the body of the goblin king and restores his vitalities. There must be something we can do about those tendrils. Should we seek guidance from the Witch? She may possess knowledge that could aid us in this dire situation."

Alfred rubbed his forehead and sighed, saying, "Yeah, might as well. The Witch would probably be the only one who has encountered something similar." General Lance nodded in agreement, adding, "Elizabeth had traveled the land before she met our King and settled down in Castle Clovershire. She used to share strange and interesting stories about the land with the King."

"But who do we send to talk to her? She has no interest in participating in the battle," General Lance spoke while looking at Alfred. "No, you don't even think about it, choose someone else, you know she has something about meeting me," Alfred immediately refused, understanding why the general had his eyes fixed on him. Rumors swirled within the castle walls, hinting at the Witch's peculiar fascination with Alfred. The general looked at Alfred with a sorrowful expression, his voice low and stern. "As much as I want to choose someone else, there is no other in this room who can get any information from her unlike you," General Lance pauses and mischievously says "and this is an order."

Alfred made his way to the Witch's tower in the castle. She resided in the tower at the back of the castle, a place that King Borosik had specially built for her to conduct her eerie experiments. As he approached the towering wooden door, Alfred couldn't help but hesitate. His heart pounded with a mixture of anticipation and fear.

On one side, he had heard countless tales of the Witch's legendary powers and her mastery of dark enchantments. The very thought sent shivers down his spine. Yet, on the other side, he had caught wind of rumors circulating among the soldiers. Whispers of the Witch's infatuation with Alfred. It was said that she was obsessed with him, fixated on possessing him in both body and soul. These rumors had spread like wildfire, filling his mind with a sense of dread.

Ever since the rumors had started, Alfred had done his best to avoid any encounters with the Witch. He knew the consequences of becoming entangled in her twisted desires. But now, no other options and they need to seek the wisdom of the witch, he found himself standing at the threshold of her foreboding tower.

Summoning his dwindling courage, Alfred raised his hand and knocked on the door. The sound reverberated through the stillness, filling the air with an otherworldly echo. Time stretched out, stretching the seconds into eternity as anticipation hung heavily in the air.

As he stood frozen, the door before him began to creak open. The sound echoed through the silence, sending chills down his spine. Ever so slowly, the door revealed a figure standing on its threshold—the witch. Her presence was undeniable, her black dress flowing like ink, a stark contrast to the pale moonlight that seeped in through the cracks.

Her appearance was hauntingly captivating. The front of her dress plunged low, exposing her cleavage, a temptation that seemed both alluring and repulsive. The fabric ended at her navel, revealing a faint trace of something indescribable. Her long, black hair was tightly braided, emphasizing the sharpness of her features. A single purple gemstone, glistening with an otherworldly light, dangled from a necklace that adorned her pale neck.

Alfred's gaze locked onto Elizabeth, unable to tear his eyes away. It was as if her presence held him captive, compelling him to study every detail. Her face, adorned with a touch of light makeup, had an ethereal beauty, almost doll-like. Her cheeks flushed with a delicate pink hue, while her lips, painted a vivid shade of red, hinted at a cruel smile.