CONTENT WARNING: violence (no blood/gore), mild sexual references
[Letter from Samuel Annorin to a Henford merchant]
Henry,
You know of Katlego Anansi, don't you? - the cunningwoman who is new to both Henford and the surrounding country. Lots of tattoos. Usually has her owl with her. You'll know by her accent that she was not born in Henford.
I know she also buys some of her supplies from you. You will put aside a bag of whatever she purchases the most often, and you will lace it with an emetic substance that I will provide you with. She is a threat to my business, and you must understand the medical innovation of the Annorin family absolutely cannot be threatened by anyone, not even someone like Katlego. All it takes is someone small to rise in the ranks and destroy all of my hard work.
I need to bring the customers back if I am to succeed; as one of my most trusted merchants, you will do this for me. Of course, you shall be paid handsomely. Should you choose to refuse, however, it will be you paying me instead- and, as the little you earn is petty pennies to me, you shall pay with your life if you do not do as I ask.
Regards,
- Samuel Annorin
[Excerpt of a diary entry from a witch-finder]
Tonight, I saw it- the most vicious of beasts that I thought to be dead. Anyone can mistake a shadow for a monster, and such rumours of lycanthropes are often poppycock- but tonight, I saw it for myself. I looked for witches during their hour, between three and four in the early morning, hoping I would find them performing some kind of ritual. Two, three, maybe even four birds, one stone, and a lot of Simoleons.
I froze when I heard the sound, a combination of a snarling canine and a whispering human. I thought that they were long gone, that we killed them all! By some miracle, the Lunvinchenaîné still exist in Henford...
Daunting as it was, it was a sight to behold. Those wicked teeth and piercing eyes, as if its pupils contained the Moon itself.
This creature of magic were to die by my blade, that was my plan. The pelt of a lycanthrope would fetch an unimaginable amount of money- but alas, the creature was much stronger than I anticipated, with unmatched ferocity and agility.
The moon was not full tonight, so it is a mystery to me as to how a lycanthrope could be patrolling the forests. During our scuffle, the beast was impressive. Though it may appear somewhat human, no humanity was to be recognised in this creature, other than its strange vocalisations- somewhere between a wolf's raucous bark and an enraged human's scream, like something from a nightmare.
The beast nearly overpowered me. In the moment that I was a hair's breadth from my certain demise, my life did not flash before my eyes, as some say- I felt enlightened, to know that my life would end battling such a magnificent specimen. Oh, how I could live like a creature of that sort...The knowledge of the animal world, and the secrets they hold.
The ferocity, the power, the elegance, a perfect amalgamation of beauty and horror. No care for morals, or occupations, or social rules, or Simoleons- just a being guided by instinct alone. In hindsight, perhaps we do not need to fear these creatures. After all, a beast's aggression is to defend oneself and its group. It is out of survival; it will not attack unless it has to. A human's violent aggression is often out of spite and of hatred, yet we do not slay these kinds of humans- we glorify them. Yet there is no glory for these beautiful creatures...
As I reflect upon my bed in this diary, tending to my wounds, I wonder if this is an unspoken part of why the Lunvinchenaîné were considered such a threat. It wasn't just the magic in their blood, no- it was because those without magic were envious of them. If they could not have their secrets, then the moon-shackled could not have their lives.
For a moment, our eyes met, and as I ran bleeding from the lycanthrope, it stopped and watched me flee. It did not pursue me, strangely enough. Perhaps there is a little humanity left in this monstrous form. As wondrous an experience as it must be, not knowing where you end and the wolf begins...it must drive one to madness.
Perhaps magic is not entirely malicious- the lycanthrope was just trying to defend itself. Maybe the same has gone for all the men and women who met their ends because of their gift. Perhaps It is time for me to lay down my sword.
Áine
Withernham is full of energy today. As well as the Peteran charity drive to feed the poor and spread their word, the market is bustling. I spot Kat buying some herbs, but she leaves before I have a chance to say hello to her. Before I'd left, it seemed she'd sunk herself head-first into her work. I hope she is doing well.
Thanks to the combined efforts of the refuge witches, myself, as well as Reynold and Joyce's ordinary cooking, everyone had plenty to eat. You could see the delight on their faces...what we took for granted meant the world to them. It meant another day alive.
I take a break from the chitchat and sit down reading my mother's tome. I notice a little redheaded boy staring at me; he has been ever since he got here. I put my head back into my book, and feel a tugging on my sleeve. It's the little redheaded boy.
"What are you reading?"
"Oh. It's an old story. You would find it really boring."
He sits there with a smug look on his face. "I don't know how to read anyway. None of us do. My mum has been hoping she'll find someone who will teach us..." He kicks his feet, looking all around and back to me. I couldn't sense it earlier, not being stood next to Reynold and with all the refuge witches at the table, but I think this boy...
"I feel something from you, Miss," the boy whispers. "I think we're the same."
I raise my finger to my lips, but he calls his mother over, who follows with a few others. As they grow closer, I feel the witches' sense growing even stronger than it already is. When I first arrived, the witches' sense gave me a sense of dread; through it, I knew what these people had been through. Every witch lives the same life of hiding away and suppressing her true self. Lately, however, it gave me a sense of pride and community. I felt less endangered. All around me, there were others like me, and we could all tell. Whatever happens, I know I will not be alone in Henford.
"Mother! I found a lady who can read!"
"A literate woman? Ridiculous," the dark-haired man says. "What are you? Some kind of witch? What other kind of woman would know how to read?"
"Knock it off, Thomas," Mason's mother spits. "Women don't just stay home and do all the chores anymore, you know. Some women have interests and hobbies and fulfilling lives, unlike you."
"You know I'm only playing, Abigail..."
"Oh, you always say that when you've overstepped the line. I know you don't mean it. Don't play foolish with me. Now, let the girls talk." Abigail shoves past him and shakes my hand violently. "Don't mind him, my dear. He thinks he's a comedic genius and still doesn't have a girlfriend."
Mason's cackling sets me off into giggles. "Yeah, he doesn't! I bet I can get a girlfriend, though! Especially if someone really nice and really smart could teach me how to read...I bet girls would really like that!"
"Oh, enough hinting, Mason. You see, we're from a small settlement in Henford trying to make our way through life. However, our attempts to make a sort of living are hampered by our illiteracy. We all grew up very poor with no-one to teach us. We don't have a lot of Simoleons to spare, but we can offer you a little in the way of coin."
She seems kind enough, and as I did with Reynold, I'll have to take the chance if I am to make any progress within my life in Henford. I'm less worried about the money, and more worried about...
"I appreciate you asking, Abigail, but the trouble is that I would need a place to stay. I currently have no place to call home, and I am with child. A place to stay would mean more to me than money."
"Oh, dearie, don't be ridiculous!" Abigail chirps. "Of course we'll give you what we can spare. Simoleons, food, a place to sleep. We've got some old leftovers from when Mason was just born. I think it'll be good to have someone to help all of the children as well. Though I wouldn't want you to do anything too strenuous, what with-"
"It's fine, Abigail. It hasn't quickened yet- I believe I'll be fine. I'd be happy to take you up on your offer, though I do not know how permanently I'll be able to stay with you for."
She nods back. We have magic in our blood; she knows as well as I do that permanence is a pointless thought in the eyes of a witch. Always here, there and everywhere...A literacy tutor wasn't what I expected to be doing, but I'll take it. A place to stay, another witch or two in my presence- it seems the best I'll get for a while.
[Excerpt from Cordelia Thebe's diary]
Given the witchfinder 'failed' him, as he told me, Eduardo is deciding to take it into his own hands. He is taking up his sword and heading out, and likely will not be back for a long time. Of course, I feigned my love and affection for him as much as possible. The mansion to myself will be exquisite without him around.
Without him around, I can enjoy myself at long last! Peace and quiet...I do look forward to it. I do not have to feign my pleasure when we are making love- that'll be the best bit of his not being around. I know my own body much better than he does anyway; I don't think Eduardo knows a single thing about a woman, other than he sees them as property and a smiling face and nothing more.
I realise that I am in danger of witches when I am alone, but I fear not, for someday soon they will return- Charles, Rodrigo, Jonathan...from whatever paradise they ventured to. Perhaps they will bring exotic gifts with them! Oh, how wonderful it is to be excited again. Those men are three, four, maybe even five times the man Eduardo claims to be.
