The Vampire & Her Witch

”The woodcutter’s son mastered his sword,” Ignatious told his attentive audience, drawing the Holy Flame Blade from its jewel-encrusted sheath and covering the blade with a thin layer of dancing, golden flames. ”He was good at burning monsters, and many people praised him.”

”Then, one day, a war began,” he said, shaking his head slightly and looking down at the sword in his hands. ”Two lords had been fighting over land for many years. One lord killed the other’s parents and grandfather. The other lord killed him for it but spared his children. Now, those children wanted revenge, and they wanted the lands they thought should be theirs, so they started another war.”

”They told the whole world that they were fighting monsters, wicked people, who dwelled in the dark that preyed upon the innocent,” Ignatious said. ”And so the woodcutter’s son went to war, because he was very good at killing monsters.”

”Did he win?” a young boy of six or seven years old asked from close to the front. ”Did he burn the wicked monsters?”

”Oh, he burned the enemies of the lord,” Ignatious said. ”But I don’t think he burned many monsters. He never asked what wicked deeds his enemies had done, or what crimes they were guilty of. They were on the other side of the line on the map, and that made them monsters who deserved to burn.”

”Just because they were on the wrong side?” a young girl asked, frowning at the way the High Inquisitor had phrased his answer. ”Because of what it said on the map?”

”Because of what it said on the map,” Ignatious confirmed. ”Because the people he trusted always said the people from that part of the map were evil and wicked monsters. Because they dressed strangely, spoke differently, and because they did not believe in the Holy Lord of Light or worship Him.”

”The woodcutter’s son burned them all for being monsters,” Ignatious said solemnly. ”Some were just hunters, protecting their homes with bows. Some were farmers, fighting with whatever they had. There were even woodcutters who felled soldiers like trees with their mighty axes, just to keep their families safe from harm. He burned all of them too.”

”It, it’s the lord’s fault!” an older boy on the verge of becoming a man said, even though it was all but blasphemous for a commoner to fault a lord’s decisions. ”The woodcutter’s son only fought because the lord lied to him. The lord said the people were monsters when they weren’t.”

”True, but did the woodcutter’s son ask for himself if the enemies were wicked?” Ignatious asked. ”It’s one thing to be deceived for a moment, to lash out or to protect yourself, but is that what he did?”

”No...” the older boy said, bowing his head. ”He kept fighting for the lord...”

”He did more than fight,” Ignatious added. ”He captured the enemy’s knights and champions, tormenting them until they told him their secrets. He filled up whole books with the things that they said, and he offered them up to the Church and the lord so they could attack their enemy’s weakness and find a way to win.”

”Tell me,” Ignatious said quietly. ”Did the woodcutter’s son become a hero? Or a monster?”

”Monster!” the young children cried out. Behind them, the older children shifted uncomfortably before nodding their heads. ”Monster,” they said, if they said anything at all.

”You see?” Ignatious said, glancing briefly at High Priest Aubin, who wore a deeply concerned look on his face. ”The children know monsters when they see one. It’s only adults who think that a monster can still be a man.”

”Brother Ignatious...” Aubin said with a genuinely pained expression on his face. ”A man may become a monster, but if he sees the monster in himself, he can also struggle toward the light. He can stand tall as a man once again if he finds his way back...”

”Did he?” a young girl asked. ”Did the woodcutter’s son find his way back to be a hero?”

”Did he win the war?” Yastin asked, unable to hold back his curiosity. ”With all that he did, did he at least win for his lord? Did he come home from all that with money for his father and the orphans?”

”He died,” Ignatious said bluntly. ”The lord of his enemy captured and killed him for what he had done. The war ended in defeat for both sides. The line on the map never moved. Both sides went home to mourn for their dead. I think, perhaps the only person who mourned the woodcutter’s son was his father, but I don’t really know. Still, I like to think that he did,” he said in a voice that grew hoarse at the end.

”Is this, is this a true story?” an older girl asked. ”Did it really happen, or is it just like a fairy story, meant to teach a lesson?”

”If you can learn a good lesson from it, I think it’s a good story, even if it isn’t entirely true,” Ignatious said with a sad smile on his lips. ”But this one happens to be. The woodcutter’s son, the lords and their war... all of it.”

”Can you tell us more?” Bosh asked, speaking up for the first time. ”When did all this happen, and where?” the young man asked, trying to recall hearing about lords who fought whole wars for lands. As far as he knew, that sort of thing only happened in the old countries, because in the Kingdom of Gaal, no lord ever warred on another as long as there were demons to fight.

”The woodcutter’s son, he probably wanted to take care of his family and the orphans... If there are stories about him, I’d like to find out what happened in the end. Then, if his family is still alive, or the orphans, maybe we can find a way to help them in his place,” he offered, even though he didn’t really know how.

”It was a long time ago,” Ignatious said. ”Though the war wasn’t that far away. They called it the ’Brothers’ War’, and the lord that the woodcutter’s son fought for was named Odhran Lothian...”