The Wandering Witch VOL. 2 - The Witchfolk Genocide Arc

13.1| A Falcon Witch

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C H E L L

For the most of the morning, Chell had thought that things had been going well for her and the thief. Aside from the recurring pain at the back of her head that she had first noticed two nights ago, their journey together had more or less been quite... peaceful.

If she were to admit, Chell would confess that she had not once thought of what would happen next if the Crow Thief had decided to accept her offer. She believed that he would have never agreed to the oath in the first place, considering how sudden it all had been. Yet he had. Now, after spending five days together, Chell had been doubting on whether her decision had been right or wrong and whether or not the dead foresaw this in their visions. But there was no more use in changing her mind. The oath had been made. The dead had been the ones who had given her the choice to choose what to do.

Once again, she longed for the familiar cold presence she had gotten used to after her waking six years ago. Their sudden disappearance had left her with an empty feeling. Loneliness, perhaps. It was them, after all, who had always guided her in her path, who told her what to do or where to go. Now that they had disappeared, Chell found herself at a loss. She had not even known where to go after Uldard. In a snap decision, she had chosen Gisnell to be the destination she and the thief would both go to, merely because it was the nearest kingdom to the north. And now that they had finally arrived after the days of walking, trouble had already seemed to stir right from the start. Just when she imagined their first day in Gisnell to end peacefully like the last four that they spent traveling in the forest, of course, that was also the moment when her luck decided to prove her wrong.

To make the situation somewhat ironic, the scene that was happening was even similar in Uldard. Once again, Chell's satchel that held the skull inside had been stolen from her without her realization, right under her nose. She cursed herself for being such easy prey. This was what happened now that the dead were gone and no one was there to warn her of any misfortune. It only proved that she had depended too much on their guidance. As of now, it seemed that she was useless without them. In fact, if it weren't for the thief's quick eyes, Chell would have likely ended up suffering from the same mistake that she did in the previous kingdom. The very thought left her feeling slightly embarrassed, though she did her best not to let it show on her face.

She breathed out, shaking away her thoughts. This was not the time to think back of such things. A still silence had settled over the street as the events unfolded before them. It took a few seconds for both Chell and Noct to understand the weight of the words that the girl had just announced. It did not take a lot of thinking to realize what she meant by saying that.

The Falcon Witch.

Jul Orben, the girl before them, was a Titled Witch.

The situation before them had taken a turn for the worse. It was one thing to be stolen from by a girl, another thing to be stolen from by a witch, and a completely different thing to be stolen from by a Titled Witch. After all, not all witches were granted with a Title that easily. To be granted one meant a certain critical thing: the capital kingdom of Aurden recognized your talent and abilities as a witch or a wizard. Essentially, that meant that if you were a Titled Witch, you were deemed as powerful enough to be a threat to the continent.

Chell narrowed her eyes to a slight degree, studying the girl named Jul who was still flashing a wide grin. The falcon that was perched on her arm was as still as a statue, unmoving except for its eyes which seemed to follow her every moment. It didn't seem to have been summoned by the Falcon Witch as a threat, although its sharp claws alone were enough to scare any person away.