Witch Trial

Before it was dark outside, several golden marigolds filled with beeswax had already been lit inside the sanctuary, and one by one, the brilliant glass windows unfolded like the title page of a storybook, with the old stories of heaven and hell coming to life in the ambiguous light.

The white marble carving of the supreme god with meticulous lines to symbolize the justice of the gods, the seat of the gods on both sides of the lacquered silver armor, knights standing guard with both hands holding the sword—everything seems to be ready for the night before the fall of the judgment to bear witness.

It was hard for Dill to take her eyes off a picture of a flaming lattice window, the orange-red sunset lending it heat, and above it were countless pointy-hatted witches being tortured in a roaring, repulsive fire, staggered light cutting through the horrified faces, their brooms placed underneath them to be used as firewood for burning.

Like a kitten jumping unknowingly into a boiling iron pot.

Fluttering under her chest, her wildly beating heart screamed to escape, when suddenly the wings in her arms flapped gently, like warm hands soothing the young girl's chest.

Dill hugged the great white goose back to her and raised her eyes again as the pure white angel on the glass window smiled down at her.

Her moon angel, the moon goddess, would always watch over her, and she didn't need to feel afraid at all.

The spacious oak table in the center was almost full, and with cups and chips crisscrossing the table and a singer playing the stringed lute softly to accompany them, it was like a feast after a prayer.

Sir Elder had taken off his velvet cloak, and his black silk tunic was trimmed with gold thread and onyx buttons. As the son of a lord, he was seated at the head of the table as a matter of course, in stark contrast to the other scruffily dressed travelers.

A man with a white beard and equally decent clothes was bowing to him, and upon seeing Mucha, his eyes immediately lit up as he stepped forward to greet him, navigating his way through the two not-so-confrontational nobles with ease.

Dill listened patiently to their conversation. The white-bearded man was thought to be the mayor of the town.

"Lord Holzog, please take your seat."

The mayor's tone was incredibly respectful, almost as if he were praying to a statue of a god, and the people around him swarmed like bees and whispered along with him, and Dill vaguely heard one of them murmur about Holzog.

Ignoring Sir Elder's shadowed gaze, Dill took it upon herself to find the most unassuming seat, her appearance attracting quite a bit of attention; fortunately, there was an even more striking presence on the other side of the room.

The silver armor was as white as snow, and with every step, a cold light flashed. The youthfulness of the teenager was frozen under layers of silver frost, and Dill didn't dare look at him at all. The unsmiling Mucha was like a silver knight stepping down from the white throne of God in front of him; every move carried an almost cold sense of sanctity.

In fact, as soon as he stepped into the chamber, the warm yellow light cooled down quite a bit, and the guests with glasses in their hands couldn't help but sit upright.

They seemed to remember that they were in a sanctuary, in the presence of the Most High God.

The young knight sat across from the main seat; he didn't touch the wine on the table and said straight away, "It's going to be dark in less than an hour, so let's get right down to business."

Sir Elder clearly hadn't forgotten his previous humiliation by the lake.

He smiled disdainfully and said, "Right under the eyes of the Most High God and a Silver Knight of the Great Sanctuary, why do we need to fear the darkness? Is it hard to believe that the Lord Knight thinks that the Holy Church cannot shelter the pious from the darkness of the district?"

The Knight was unimpressed. "Stay as long as you wish; there are who knows how many, perhaps packs of werewolves, out there right now waiting to hunt in the night, and all I have with me is a silver sword."

Only the Silver Knight could unapologetically call the demon by his first name in the Sanctuary, and the teenager's soft words shredded the false peace. The man in the main seat's face darkened, and the others couldn't help but come down with bated breath.

They realized that the power of life and death was in the hands of others; even the wine in the cup no longer smelled sweet and even felt black in red.

The mayor realized that the atmosphere was not right and immediately followed Mucha's words to start holding a meeting.

One by one, Dill got to know the other outsiders: a young couple who had emigrated from out of town half a year ago, a minor nobleman from Byfleet Court and the accompanying singer who was a guest brought back by Sir Elder, and lastly, a wandering merchant from the Hebrews.

When it was Dill's turn, she introduced herself briefly with a few words about being a medicine man from the east coast, and the other guests didn't give her a hard time about it, or perhaps it was because Mucha was quick to pick up the conversation again.

"The man who disappeared yesterday was named Val." He looked to the Hebrew merchant and said, "He is your companion, I believe."

The Hebrew merchant's name was Dartnay. With a thick accent, brownish skin, and a prominent hawkish nose, he and Val were both Hebrew jewelers, stopping off at Jonestown for a rest and supplies. Yesterday morning, when Val said he was going to the bazaar to buy a new bridle for his donkey, Dartnay waited all day for someone but didn't get there.

This morning, the mayor led a search and found a few pieces of broken Hebrew linen not far from the forest, stained with sticky blood. Dartnay said sadly that his good friend had intended to go home and get married after the business was done.

"People aren't looking too good yet, Hossei; for a lighter song, let's change Manu of Vanilla Harbor." Sir Elder interjects suddenly, setting down his glass and tapping a crisp on the table.

The singer says respectfully to Dartnay, "This one is dedicated to your lordship, and my beloved Red Mole is also from a generous Heber merchant who bestowed it."

Dill looked at the Byfleetin singer; the other party is unexpectedly young, but a young man in his early twenties; his features are handsome and deep; another exotic style that is very different from Dill's; his short, dark brown hair reaches up to his ears; both ears beckon with luxurious gold ornaments; and there is a thumb-sized ruby set on his chin. I don't know whether it is true or not; I think it is the beloved "Red Mole" that he mentioned! I don't know if it's true or not, but I think it's his beloved "red mole.".

Jose noticed Dill's gaze and smiled at her. The sound of the piano under his hands was tantalizing, but the lyrics he sang were not.

The song [Manu of Vanilla Harbor] is about a slave who carries spices, who steals, robs, and cheats his way to becoming rich by any means necessary, who kills his best friend who was traveling with him and marries a rich merchant's daughter from Red Wine Bay instead, and who is finally swept away into the abyss by a storm on a boat by an angry sea witch, and who spends eternity at the bottom of the sea with the remains of his best friend.

As the beautiful music rose, the faces of those present didn't only melt but became more rigid. Mucha made the singer shut up with just a glance, Sir Elder still had the same cynical stance, and thankfully Darthene, who was being pointed out to him, didn't seem to have heard of this Byfleet court ballad, and his bewildered face fell right into the bottom of Dill's eyes.

Sandwiched between a few nobles, the commoner couple was obviously having a hard time sitting still.

The husband's wine glass was already empty; he seemed to have drunk enough courage and spoke in a trembling voice: "My lords, Beris and I are busy in the marketplace every day from morning until sunset, punctually praying in the sanctuary before the wash, and returning home in time for the curfew, and all the townspeople and neighbors can testify for us."

"That's not for you to say, is it, Lord Knight?" Sir Elder twirled his glass, and he intentionally glanced toward Dill every time he gave Mucha a hard time.

Dill rubbed her head to divert her attention, telling herself that this was a sanctuary and the little witch had better refrain from all bad thoughts; it surely wouldn't do any good to have [Ominous Omen A+] escalate up there again.