Release that Witch

After Roland hung up, Nightingale placed a silver white ring on his desk.

It was a ring made of two shards of aluminum that could hold a roll of paper as small as a person’s palm specifically designed for carrier pigeons. The combination of the ring and Soraya’s ”ultra-thin paper” enabled them to deliver more messages at a time. Instead of tying notes to the messengers’ claws, they could now simply attach them to this ring.

To prevent accidents en route, each local Administrative Office set up a post station for messengers who flew over 500 kilometers to take a rest before taking off for the next station. To more efficiently sort encrypted mail, the ring was embossed with an identification code similar to train tickets in modern society. The identification code would instantly tell mailmen where this encrypted letter came from and where it should go.

The letter C on this ring represented the Kingdom of Dawn. Out of security and confidentiality concerns, Roland had decided to use the first letter of each country’s Pinyin spelling instead of the standard characters commonly used in the Four Kingdoms.

”Is it from Thorn Town in the Kingdom of Dawn?” Roland said while raising his eyebrows. ”When did you receive it?”

”Just ten minutes ago when Honey came,” Nightingale replied. ”But you were on the phone at that time, so I didn’t give it to you straight away.”

”Did they find something new in the ruins at the Cage Mountain?” Roland wondered as he unclipped the ring and unfolded the letter.

The letter was a bit long. It took him around seven minutes to figure out what the guard was trying to convey.

”I didn’t expect the church would ask for Graycastle’s help,” Roland remarked impressively after he put down the letter. He knew it was now impossible for the church to stage a comeback after they had abandoned Hermes, but it did not hurt to help them weed out a local noble. It was very ironic to see the very person who gave these fugitives a fatal blow was nobody but a former bishop of the church.

”Do you know where those church dregs are? Those who fled Holy City, leaving the orphans in the monastery behind?” Nightingale asked, her voice alive with curiosity.

”If what the letter says is correct, the church is now completely over,” Roland said as he handed the letter to Nightingale. ”Their last hope turns out to be their last straw.”

Nightingale cast Roland a glance after she read the letter and asked, ”What are you going to do?”

”Since the butler of the Earl of Archduke Island has confessed everything and we’ve also known where the treasure is, we’ll sooner or later send our men to the Kingdom of Wolfheart,” Roland said while tapping the desk gently. ”The reaction of the Magic Ceremony Cube to the enriched uranium sample indicates the drawings on the mural are probably depictions of true stories. Regardless of what it is used for, we’d better bring the Cube back to Neverwinter. As for the acting pope Farrina...” Roland paused for a second and then went on, ”Bring Joe and her back here for further questioning.”

”That’s what I thought you would say,” Nightingale commented with a faint smile.

”I thought you wouldn’t like my answer,” Roland said carefully. ”The church persecuted you before.”

”I did hate the church very much, and I even hated men at one point,” Nightingale admitted. ”However, after I learned that it was actually Alice’s plan and that what she did was all for the continuity of the human race, I changed my mind. I don’t hate her anymore but just feel she’s pathetic. Plus, the church established by Starfall City is long gone. Even if I want to avenge myself, there’s nobody for me to take revenge on now.”

”Um... you hated men before?” Roland asked in surprise.

”Why do you sound so flustered?” Nightingale said as she shot him a stare. ”I couldn’t control my awakening. I didn’t do anything wrong. Why did everybody hate me so much like I’m a horrible disease? You alienate me, so why do I have to befriend you. That’s how I viewed things back then, and I can assure you that most of the witches had the same feeling before.”

”Is that the reason you showed up in my bedroom with a dagger at that time?”

”You were lucky you know?” Nightingale said with a laugh. ”I didn’t necessarily hate people, but I did despise nobles. I sat down and negotiated with you purely because of Anna. Did you forget what people called me before?”

”No, I didn’t. You were the Shadow Killer, a ghost assassin who made all the nobles in the old king’s city shudder.” Roland left his words unsaid.

”So you flirted with me...”

”To reveal your true nature,” Nightingale said, muffling her snigger. ”I was acting. I wanted to let Anna understand what disgusting creatures nobles were. Unfortunately...”

”What are you regretting about? Are you regretting that you failed to persuade Anna to leave Border Town or about your unsuccessful flirting strategy?” Roland grumbled within himself. He said glumly, ”So I was indeed lucky.”

”It’s easy to go extreme when holding a grudge against someone,” Nightingale said, justifying her behavior as she patted Roland on the shoulder. ”Soon I found you’re as different from the other nobles as me, so I decided to trust you.”

”Shall I say thank you?”

”You’re welcome,” Nightingale replied matter-of-factly. ”After I learned about the Pure Witches and someone like Zero, I soon put those childish ideas behind.”

”Really... you did come a long way,” Roland commented with a sigh.

”Why do I have the impression that you aren’t very happy?” Nightingale asked as she leaned forward and peered down at Roland, her hair touching his cheek. ”You weren’t very sad a while ago, but you are... now.”

With these words, she quickly slid into the Mist. By the time Roland saw Nightingale again, she was lying on a recliner with a piece of dried fish between her lips, winking at him triumphantly.

Grinding his teeth, Roland got to his feet. He was about to give her a lesson, making her understand who the real King of Graycastle was, when the telephone rang.

It was from the Director of the Administrative Office.

Roland shot Nightingale a ”wait-for-me” look and picked up the phone.

”Your Majesty,” Barov’s voice sounded over the phone, ”there’s a special guest from the old king’s city who insists on speaking to you.”

Barov, as the Hand of the King, normally did not introduce visitors himself. Intrigued, Roland asked, ”Who’s that?”

”The great dramatist, Sir Kajen Fels,” Barov boomed, a hint of excitement in his voice.

Roland’s brows were furrowed. ”Why is he here again? Didn’t I make it very clear in my last letter?” thought Roland a bit irritably. He replied, ”I have a lot on my plate. If he doesn’t have anything really important...”

”Yes, he does, Your Majesty!” said Barov, who immediately related the purpose of Kajen’s visit to Roland.

”Are you sure?” Roland said, slightly surprised.

”Yes, he truly said so!” The governor answered positively.

Hearing these words, Roland suddenly had an idea. After a moment of silence, he changed his mind and said, ”Take him to the castle parlor. I’ll meet him there.”