CONTENT WARNINGS: misogyny, bad language, sexual references, mentions of violence/murder/death (the usual)
[Scrawled letter from Lord Volpe to Gideon Reyes]
It has been a month since my last letter and you have not responded or updated me at all on what is going on! Are you or are you not tracking the witch? Have you found her yet? Come to my mansion at once! No more dawdling.
- Lord Eduardo Volpe
Gideon
At long last, I've gathered the energy to face Lord Volpe and tell him the truth about this witch he sent me out for. His mansion is somehow more daunting than he is.
Unsurprisingly, he's not in the best of moods about it.
"What do you mean you're giving up? I paid you to find and kill this witch!"
"I told you to pay me half before and half after. You agreed. I'm telling you now that I lost track of the 'witch' ages ago. I had a cunningwoman confirm to me she wasn't a witch, and she likely lied to me-"
"Confirmation? What confirmation do you need? They're all at it, aren't they? I bet you every single woman in Henford has magic up her sleeve!"
"Oh? Even your lovely Cordelia?"
"What? Of course not! I'd have her hung if that were the case!"
"You're just going to have to deal with it. I'm done with you, I'm done with the witch, and I'm done with witch-hunting in general. There are never guarantees with this job, you should've known that- but the half you paid me covers the work I've already done. Keep your other one hundred and fifty. I don't need it."
"And what about your children?"
"I'll find another job."
"In this economy? You and all the other peasant scum scraping at the barrel for anyone who will give you a Simoleon? Absolutely pathetic, Gideon. I didn't think you too would be so pathetic."
"It isn't me who's the pathetic one, Lord Volpe. I'm not the one hiding in his daddy's mansion, living off his daddy's money, blaming women for all of his problems instead of blaming himself and his lineage of fat-cats sitting on inheritances and acting like the dog's bollocks for owning an excess of money they never worked for. The rest of us are working ourselves to the bone to feed ourselves and our families whilst you rot in a 'relationship' with a woman who doesn't love you."
"Of course Cordelia loves me!"
"Does she, though? Or is she spending the night with four or five pirates behind your back? You know it, we all know it..."
"No! I refuse to believe it! My darling Cordelia would never do such a thing! What could pirates give her that I can't?"
"I think you've answered your own question."
There's nothing like watching a noble seethe. Nothing at all.
"If you think you're such a big man, then you don't need my help and I don't need the rest of your money. Take up your sword, grow a pair of balls, and get out there and do the damn job yourself."
* * *
When I get home to my kids, they're both excited as usual. Before they can even ask me if I've killed any witches today...
"Daniel, Josiah, I won't be killing any witches anymore."
They both look so dejected. It hurts to do this and upset them, but in the long run, this will be better for my kids.
"But why? You said witches were dangerous."
"Well...Look, I haven't been a good father to you. I'm always out doing harm to other people and I don't want to do that anymore. I don't want either of you to grow up like me."
"But Father!" he replies. "We want to learn how to use a sword too, and we don't want witches to hurt anyone! Just like you!"
"My son, I've done more hurt to people than any witch likely ever has. I have horrible dreams about the women I killed, and also...dreams about your mother being ashamed of me. Some of them probably had children too, as young as you, maybe younger. You don't remember Ruth, but she was a lovely woman. She wouldn't have liked what I do, so I'm going to stop doing it. Okay?"
Both the boys sigh. "But what about the mon-"
"Don't worry about the money, Josiah. I will find another job- I promise. For now, we will be okay. But from now on, I won't be going out and killing witches anymore- and that's final."
Daniel and Josiah sit on the sofa, kicking their feet. They'll be a little lost without my stories to tell them. Maybe I can make some stories up about something else for them.
"Father...What if- do you think witches could have good spells too? If they have spells that hurt people, they could have good spells too! Maybe they can cure sickness, or make puppies out of thin air!"
At that moment, Brádach visits. I send the kids to their room.
"It's good to see you Brádach, but I owe you an explanation. We will no longer be witchfinding partners. I won't be doing it any longer...I've been having horrible nightmares, and I went to the lengths of asking for a Peteran prior's counsel. He told me the only way to try and combat them was to try and make up for what I've done. I've brought shame upon my dead wife, and upon my children and myself. I'm choosing not to live like that anymore. I appreciate your...assistance."
I didn't expect him to look so upset at that revelation, but he seems deeply hurt by what I've said for some reason. He's usually a fragile and rather shy man, but...not this much. He seems like he's about to cry or something. Maybe he's thinking what I'm thinking? That now is a good time to call it quits?
"Sorry, Gideon. It's just...If you're going to be so honest with yourself, then maybe I should do the same and be honest with you. I haven't told you much about my side of the story, other than me taking the Rite of Dissolution."
No, he hasn't. He took the Rite of Dissolution from a witch two years ago for his own safety, and almost died as a result. Apparently, many witches died to taking the Rite of Dissolution in hopes for a normal life. For a full-blooded witch, magic was so ingrained into the blood that trying to remove it often had disastrous consequences. I'm interested to know what Brádach has to say to me. What could someone like him possibly be hiding?
"I had a daughter...Áine. When she became a woman, I fled the home- if they found me, they would find my daughter. I couldn't be anywhere near her. I just hope that she never continued to learn her magic that her mother taught her. I hope she is living a normal life somewhere. If not, I hope she is at least living..."
I'm not sure entirely why he's telling me this. He's never mentioned a daughter.
"You left your daughter? Why in the world would you do that with all that's going on?! And if you had a daughter, then what about her mother? What became of her?"
"I lied! I lied to her and to Saoirse. I told them I hadn't done enough for witches and that I had headed off to help. The truth is, I knew Saoirse would come after me...which was part of my plan."
Plan? What plan?
"I've said enough-"
"Out with it, Brádach! What did you do to her?"
Brádach freezes for a moment, and stands still as a log, unable to make eye contact with me.
"I'd told Saoirse over and over again to let our daughter grow up normal. If we taught her magic, all it did was make her a bigger target. Saoirse went ahead and taught her the arcane arts anyway. If I were to run from my daughter to save her, then it was no good if Saoirse was around her as well. Like I said, if they found one of us, they would find and kill my daughter...so I took the Rite, and once I had recovered...I told a witchfinder of Saoirse."
It takes me some time to process what he's just told me.
His partner. His own partner...Even if Ruth were a witch, I would have never done such a thing- not to the woman I loved. If my family were in danger, I wouldn't run. I'd grab my sword, and I'd fight back.
I don't realise I have my sword in my hand until the coldness of the hilt jolts through my fingers, and I'm resisting the urge to cut him down where he stands. Brádach flees, slamming the doors behind him.
Running off in the face of accountability... again. Maybe honesty isn't as always as honourable as Prior Morgan made it out to be.
My own honesty made him question his own guilt, but what good is it to question your guilt if you don't plan to take action? I feel like a hypocrite being so enraged by it all, but my whole body is on fire just thinking about what Brádach did. He should have stayed and fought with every spell he knew. If anyone were going to hurt my kids, they'd have a sword through their face before they could lay a finger on them.
It almost sounds like it had nothing to do with his daughter at all- just an act of cowardice to defend himself. To be handed in by your own partner, the man you loved and trusted...I'd found witches that way. Their brothers, sisters, lovers- they'd all admit to knowing their whereabouts- and I didn't realise just how disgusting it all was until now. I can't go back to what I was, or I won't be any better than Brádach.
Clementia
Not being able to fully talk about how I feel to anyone is a curse- not even to the High Shepherd, who'd have him hunted for sport if I ever let slip about him. As much respect as I have for Shepherd Julian, his stances on the occult terrify me. No matter how much trust he has in me, I feel it'd all shatter if he knew the truth about Reynold.
"So you quarrelled with your brother? What about?"
I pause for a second to conjure up a half-truth. "Accusing me of things I didn't do. I did it again...It's my reaction that makes me so angry. I apologised, pleaded, and cried- like a child! I can feel the Watcher's shame already."
"The Watcher may feel ashamed, Shepherdess Clementia, but I do not. It is difficult to overcome such physical reactions. Scholars can study the human mind all they like, but the majority of it will remain a mystery."
"I must say, having met your brother, he is incredibly difficult to get through to at times, and quick to lose his temper. Not an entirely positive quality for a Peteran prior- definitely not for an eventual abbot. Is there a reason he's so highly-strung? Mother Joyce told me he was 'quiet' and 'kind', but that isn't how I'd describe him."
Shepherd Julian's question silences me at first, and the words that come out of my mouth in dreary monotone aren't quite the same as the ones in my mind. "Normally, he is both of those things. I...don't know what's gotten into him lately."
He places a hand on my shoulder. Normally, when Shepherd Julian made direct eye contact with you, it was chilling, but it was never like that with me. In ways, he reminds me a little of my deceased father, only that Shepherd Julian knew my potential and wanted to bring it out of me as much as he could.
"I think you ought to take Jacob's Sword and practice outside for a while. Show the Watcher that you are able to defend yourself, and that you will not back down next time. Remember, there is more to Jacob's Sword than just the sword itself."
I do as the High Shepherd instructs. There's a chill in the midnight air, and the moonlight distorts and glows across the blade. Practicing for almost two years with the sword, sometimes against fellow Jacobans and even against Shepherd Julian had left me covered in scars and scratches, but it hasn't stopped me.
Whilst almost all Jacobans swear an oath of non-violence, it doesn't necessary mean all violence. In the eyes of Jacob and the Watcher, most things you would do to protect your friends, your family, and the general 'greater good' are justified. If you absolutely must cause harm, it cannot be out of pure malice, and it must be for a good reason. Only the weak are motivated by hate.
I don't hate him, I don't think. It seems too strong a word. I'm just confused; I still don't fully understand what happened that day.
I don't have magic in my blood. I don't know what it's like to lose control of it, or how easy or difficult it is to do so. Then again, it doesn't make much of a difference to me. Like every other woman, I don't get to lose control. The moment I slightly veer off what's expected of me, I'm dramatic, hysterical. Maybe one day, it'll be enough to hang me for witchcraft.
I'm the one trying to clean up after what happened. I'm trying to be more assertive. I train with Jacob's Sword to prove to the Watcher that I am not weak. I've been trying to warn people of the truth about the Watcher after a lifetime of being told They were a kind guiding light.
He promised me he'd work on it- that he wouldn't be so quick to lose his temper. Yet not only did he lose it with me, but also with Shepherd Julian, of all people. Dark intent is the fuel of the fire for any kind of magic- even I know that. If that happened around Shepherd Julian, he'd have run his sword through him without a second thought.
Mother and Father, Watcher bless their departed souls- they're at least partially to blame. Growing up, it was all about him, of course it was. They wanted a son, and they ended up with an unexpected daughter at the same time. Since childhood, I knew that circumstances wouldn't be the same for us both- that the rules would be completely different for me and for him.
Mother and Father never wanted Reynold to ever know of his magic, and what good did that do in the long run? Shepherd Julian taught me the basics of wielding a sword before I could properly train with it. Why should magic be any different?
When High Shepherd Julian accepted me as the first Shepherdess in Finchwick, it was the highlight of my entire life. I felt wanted. I felt important for the first time. I don't have to be saccharine and palatable. Best of all, it had nothing to do with my brother.
I know the Jacoban church isn't the safest place in the world, what with their outlooks on the witches and all- but it's taken me twenty-two years to feel like my existence is worth something. Any other woman in Finchwick would kill for what I have. I'm not giving that up for anyone.
I wonder if I'll ever meet this partner of his?
Reynold
As soon as she stepped through the door, I couldn't let her go.
It's been almost two months since I'd last seen her. She's been helping out a local cunningwoman. She looks beautiful as ever. I gently place my hand to her stomach; it's still a long way from making its first movements. I don't ask her too much about it; she's apprehensive to talk to me about it in detail at least until it quickens, and until we have a much more solid chance of the child entering the world. In my mind, I have one hundred names, plans and futures, but it wouldn't do us good for me to get ahead of myself.
We're doing a charitable event tomorrow, a sort of feast in the Peteran monastery for all of the locals to attend, especially for the poor. Áine arrived back in Withernham to help out, though I don't think she should be working too hard right now.
"I've been thinking about something, Reynold- even if we can't live together in the long run, do you think that maybe we could until you have to live at the monastery?"
If only I could make that happen. I can't take any risks, not right now.
"I don't think it would be a good idea, Áine. I don't know how much time we'd have, and I wouldn't want to get too comfortable before we would have to leave each other again."
"Why does it matter how much time it is? Even if we only had a month, or a week, or even a day together, wouldn't it be worth it?"
"I didn't say it wouldn't be worth it, Áine- I said it wouldn't be a good idea, is all. Unfortunately, I think we're both going to have to get used to being far apart more often than we're together. There's no predicting what the future holds for either of us. Such is the life of being a witch- you're never in the same place for very long."
"I guess you're right," she says, with a sigh.
"But that doesn't mean we can't make the most of the time we have together, yes?"
"No, not today, Reynold. I'm not in the mood. I'm going to help Annabeth tend to the animals."
I know how much it must hurt her, but the circumstances are entirely out of our control. As much as I'd like to daydream about an ideal future for me, for Áine, for everyone- I know deep down in my heart that it doesn't exist. All I can do is my best. Before she heads off, I almost forget to give her the present I bought her ages ago, and only just got around to enchanting very recently.
"Áine, before you go- I have something for you."
She holds out her hand, and I tell her to close her eyes. I wrap her fingers around the pale stone, and tell her to open her eyes again. They light up like a magpie's as she rolls it around in her palm, watching the light glint off of it.
"Is that white moonstone?"
"Indeed," I reply, placing my hand over hers. "I bought it from a woman at the Withernham market a while ago, who had arrived in Henford from somewhere miles away. I placed a sort of enchantment on it that is supposed to help with pregnancy and childbirth, if you hold it in your hands once in a while. You'll have to charge it in moonlight every now and again, though."
"Oh, no, not the 'C' word," she says, shuddering. "I've still got a few months before I even think about that- but this is so thoughtful of you, Reynold. Thank you so much."
She gently embraces me, and we don't say anything for a few seconds, just making the most of the moment until she leans in and kisses me passionately. I think back to our first kiss during Beltane, amongst the fire and festivities. When the two of us are together, the anxiety and the rage at the world fades away temporarily.
When Áine leaves to help the witches tend to the farm, I think back to when I lashed out at Shepherd Julian and at Clem- the latter of whom not deserving it. It isn't like me. For countless months, I had everything in check, but even without everything else, it's hard to not be enraged at all that is going on. From the witches in the refuge to the starving poor- everywhere I look, there seems to be naught but undeserved pain and suffering. There was great power in being in a position of leadership at the church, but even with that power, I don't know if there's much I can change.
What the nobles will charge for, witches often offered cheaply or for free, and so they were an enormous threat. Witches have the power to solve many issues. Practical magic grows and maintains crops and creates food. Mischievous magic provides mostly harmless self-defence. Wild magic, powerful and sometimes daunting as it is, has its uses. Fires to keep people warm, and even the enigmatic Fulguris spell, which some witches think could be used in the future to 'power' objects.
Once the witches are extinct, the rest of humanity will no doubt come next, yet people still follow blindly in this inevitable self-destruction. Most of my own people were the first victims of the modern witch-hunts. Our magic could aid fertility. It could help protect people, and heal wounds that may otherwise be fatal. It was also capable of helping to ease issues of the mind, though it seems no-one quite understands or cares about the human mind enough to consider it.
Maybe I need to be persistent and get Shepherd Julian to see the light. He doesn't have to be like me. He doesn't have to believe what I believe, but charisma and influence like his are wasted on fear and manipulation, when he could be solving real issues instead of fear-mongering about witchcraft...