The Dragon Kings' Forbidden Witch

”But she hasn’t done anything,” Celeste said, her voice shaking slightly. ”We would be lying. We would be....”

”We would be saving ourselves,” Isolde interrupted coldly. ”Now, are you going to help me, Celeste? Or are you going to be foolish enough to refuse?”

Celeste opened her mouth. Closed it.

She looked at Vivienne, who was grinning like a predator who had spotted wounded prey. She looked at Seraphine, whose expression was impossible to read. She looked at Marta, whose face was a mask of perfect neutrality.

And finally, she looked at Isolde, whose pale eyes were burning with a certainty that was absolutely terrifying.

”I...” Celeste began.

”Yes?” Isolde prompted, her voice soft but deadly.

”I’ll help,” Celeste whispered.

Isolde smiled.

”Excellent,” she said. ”Then we have a conspiracy.”

***

*THE NEXT MORNING*

The morning light filtered through the high windows of the palace, casting long shadows across the marble floors.

Mistress Calla stood in the center of the household staff’s gathering chamber, her iron-gray hair pulled back in a severe bun, her posture rigid and commanding. Her sharp eyes that missed nothing and a demeanor that brooked no argument scanned through the crowd. She had served the palace for nearly thirty years, and in that time, she had become the absolute authority over all matters relating to the servants and the maintenance of the royal quarters.

Around her, the household staff stood in nervous clusters....maids, laundry workers, kitchen servants, and various functionaries whose jobs depended on the smooth operation of the palace’s internal machinery.

Calla’s gaze swept over them all, and the room fell silent.

”Effective immediately,” she said, her voice cutting through the quiet like a blade, ”we are conducting a comprehensive inspection of all servant quarters. This is not a routine inspection. This is a full security and standards assessment.”

The murmurs that rippled through the crowd died down as Calla raised a hand for silence.

”Beginning this morning, my team will systematically inspect every room, every trunk, every corner of the servants’ quarters. We will examine the stables, the laundry areas, the storage chambers, everywhere. Every personal belonging will be recorded. Every space will be assessed for security breaches and standard violations.”

A young maid raised her hand nervously. ”Mistress Calla, why? Has something happened?”

Calla’s expression hardened. ”That is not your concern. What is your concern is that you cooperate fully with this inspection. Any obstruction, any resistance, any attempt to hide anything will result in immediate dismissal and possible criminal charges.”

The weight of those words settled over the crowd like a suffocating blanket.

”When will this happen?” another servant asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

”Now,” Calla said. ”The guards are already being assembled. By mid-morning, we begin. Be prepared to have your spaces inspected. Be prepared to account for your possessions. And be prepared for the fact that nothing in this palace is truly private.”

She turned and walked from the chamber, her footsteps echoing against the stone floor.

The servants stared after her in shock.

The whispers began almost immediately...terrified, urgent, spreading like wildfire through the crowd.

***

The servants’ quarters occupied the lower levels of the palace’s eastern wing, a sprawling dormitory-style arrangement of small rooms that housed the majority of the palace’s working staff.

By mid-morning, Mistress Calla had arrived with her team.

There were four guards flanking her, men in royal livery with swords at their sides. There were three assistants...experienced palace servants who understood what to look for. And there was a clerk with parchment and ink, ready to document every finding.

They began at one end of the corridor and worked methodically through each room.

The first room belonged to a kitchen maid named Sophie. Calla entered, her eyes immediately assessing the small space. The cot was neatly made. A small trunk sat at its foot. A few personal items were arranged on a shelf...a comb, a handkerchief, a small wooden carving.

”Open it,” Calla commanded, pointing to the trunk.

One of the guards moved forward and opened it, revealing the maid’s few possessions...shifts, undergarments, stockings, a nightgown.

Calla examined each item with clinical precision. She ran her fingers along the seams, checking for hidden pockets. She lifted each garment and shook it. She checked the bottom of the trunk for false compartments.

”Nothing,” she said finally. ”Record that this room has been inspected and cleared.”

The clerk made a note.

They moved to the next room.

This one belonged to a laundry worker named Margaret. Again, the same process. The trunk was opened. Every item was examined. A small pouch of coins was found, Margaret’s wages that she’d been saving.

”How much?” Calla asked.

”Approximately fifteen silver pieces, Mistress,” the guard said.

”Record it,” Calla said. ”And Margaret will account for how she came by such savings. If she cannot, it will be confiscated.”

Margaret, standing pale in the corner, nodded quickly. ”It’s from my wages, Mistress. I’ve been saving for three years.”

Calla’s gaze was cold. ”Then you have nothing to fear.”

But the message was clear: nothing was safe. Nothing was private. Everything could be questioned, examined, and potentially taken.

The inspection continued.

Room after room, trunk after trunk, personal item after personal item.

A love letter from a soldier was found in one room, the maid blushed crimson as Calla examined it with no regard for privacy. A small knife was discovered in another, the servant who owned it was immediately questioned about why a servant needed a weapon. A collection of smooth stones that a homesick servant had gathered was recorded as if they were evidence of some crime.

The atmosphere in the servants’ quarters grew increasingly tense.

Servants hurried past the inspection team with their heads down. Those whose rooms hadn’t been searched yet stood in nervous clusters, dreading their turn. Those who had been inspected tried to resume their duties, but the fear remained, palpable and oppressive.

The guards watched everything with cold, professional efficiency.

The assistants took meticulous notes on every finding, no matter how insignificant.

And Calla moved through it all like a surgeon, precise and without mercy, turning the sanctuary of the servants’ quarters into something that felt more like an occupation than an inspection.

***

By late morning, the lower levels of the eastern wing had been completely searched.

Not a single item of significance had been found.

But the message had been delivered: nowhere was safe. Nowhere was beyond scrutiny. The palace’s hierarchy was more oppressive than any servant had imagined.