Chapter 7: The Man-Hating Witch

“Urk,” someone groaned as an unpleasant sound rang out around us.

The mountain was buried deep in snow. We had a guide leading our group, but the poor weather conditions meant we had to stop and shovel snow periodically or use the horses to pack it down so we could walk. At times, we managed to find well-shaded pathways where we could hack through the undergrowth and slip through unimpeded. We were essentially carving out a road as we went.

“Someone wanna explain to me how this much snow can pile up overnight?” Jean groused.

Since I wouldn’t be of any use to them, I was perched on top of a horse. Prince Irvin’s servant, Rei, was holding onto the reins.

“Enough of your whining,” Prince Irvin snapped. He was using a wooden shovel to shift the snow out of the way. “You sure complain a lot for a manservant. You’re not as bad as Rei, but I’d still appreciate you moving your hands more than your mouth. Pissing and moaning isn’t going to fix things. The snow won’t shovel itself.”

“Ah, right, I forgot you’re a spoiled rich boy. ’Course you wouldn’t understand a commoner’s feelings. I know it won’t change anythin’, but at least I can grumble about it.”

“Yes, of course, taxpaying citizens have every right to protest to those in power. And I heartily encourage them to do so. Except in your case, you’re not paying me any taxes, now are you?”

“That right? Well, ’scuse me, then. Guess we commoners just have a biased view of you pampered royal folk.”

“Biased indeed. Maybe your attitude would improve a bit if you shut your mouth and actually did some work.”

“How ’bout you practice what you preach first?”

Although the two were trading barbs with one another, they were perfectly in sync. The more they exchanged their clever retorts, the faster their hands moved. That was why Rei only silently watched instead of chastising either of them.

“Physical labor isn’t really my thing,” called Lord Alan from behind me, “so I’ll be cheering you guys on from here.” He was pulling along Jean’s horse. Mabel was with him as well, not even trying to hide her exasperation with their pettiness.

Suddenly a muffled cry rang out. We turned to find Jean trapped in a snowdrift.

Prince Irvin snickered. “What goes around comes around.”

“Then you oughta be gettin’ yours soon too,” Jean countered, grabbing a nearby branch to lift himself out of the drift. He released it at just the right angle so the snow on the branches above would plop straight down on Prince Irvin.

“Okay, now you’ve done it,” the foreign prince snarled.

“Ah, my bad. Wasn’t on purpose though, I swear.” Jean gave a half-hearted shrug.

They exchanged a brief glare before breaking into a snowball fight like a couple of rowdy children.

Do these two really understand how dire our circumstances are?

Before Rei or I could open our mouths to intervene, stray fire—or rather, a stray snowball—came spiraling toward me. I wasn’t sure which one of them threw it, but it slammed into the branch above me, creating a miniature avalanche. Startled, my horse brayed and reared. I was unable to react in time and went flying through the air, slamming down into the powdery snow below.

“Eli—I mean, El!” Mabel scrambled off her horse and waded over. By the time she pulled me up, there was a human imprint left where I’d fallen.

“Slow as molasses,” Jean mumbled.

Prince Irvin shook his head. “Her reflexes are dull as ever, I see.”

Mabel whipped around and began reprimanding the two of them. In the midst of all of this, the person acting as our guide continued to shovel the snow without paying us any heed. They were setting a good example that I wished the other boys would follow.

Rei merely sighed at our antics.

“I wonder if we’re going to be able to make it to the witch’s house today,” Lord Alan mumbled as he peered up. The sky was overcast.

I wonder the same thing, I thought as I sneezed. The snow clung stubbornly to my clothes.

~.~.~.~

After I finished reading the prince’s letter and discovered the true reality of our situation, I was at a loss for words for a while. The weight of his expectations renewed my determination.

Maldura and Sauslind were on the brink of war. To stop it, we needed some kind of clue so we could start on a cure for the Ashen Nightmare. I had lost sight of that, too overcome with anxiety after we were suddenly attacked and Grandpa Teddy was...injured. But the prince had foreseen some of what had already transpired, and that was why he decided to entrust me with all this information and the key to solving this epidemic.

Affection and gratitude bubbled up inside me. I wanted to hug his letter to my chest.

“I hate to rain on your little parade,” Prince Irvin cut in teasingly, “but considering we’re involved in this mess as well, care to disclose some of what you know?” Although his tone was light, his eyes were serious.

Prince Irvin had mentioned before that there was someone trying to block Maldura and Sauslind’s attempts at diplomacy. I had no doubt this information was exactly what they were looking for. Especially since this clue could bring relief to many sick and dying Maldurans. Perhaps that was the real motivating factor in why he had made contact with me.

I carefully contemplated as I opened my mouth to respond, but Lord Alan interrupted me. “Let’s save it until we get back to our rooms. Eat up first!”

“Oh,” I mumbled. A quick glance at the other patrons made me realize they were all peering over at us now that Lord Alan wasn’t singing anymore. Since the cheering had died down, it was quiet enough in here that it wasn’t really the place to be exchanging confidential information.

I tucked the prince’s letter away and spent the rest of our meal planning out how I would broach the topic with the others later. Once we were finished, we all gathered in one of the inn rooms and I shared with them what I’d learned from the missive. I also realized something. I wasn’t suited to bargaining political deals with people using information. The prince was the one who handled those sorts of things. Perhaps the situation would be different if Lord Alexei were here, but alas, he was not.

Also, there were a few things I could deduce from the information His Highness shared. The prince never stated anything concretely about who the culprit was, but that was likely because he was still in the process of gathering solid proof. Though the fact that he didn’t mention it made me suspect it was someone too high up for him to point fingers at lightly.

My decision, then, was to leave that matter to the prince. My job was to focus on the clue he’d left for me. And to that end, I needed their cooperation. Curing the Ashen Nightmare was the key to solving this whole mess, so I tried to be as forthright as possible when it came to information pertaining to the disease.

“Furya’s Jar, huh?” Irvin sniffed.

The text was considered mere legend, so it wasn’t surprising that someone from a foreign land like Maldura didn’t believe in its existence. Even Mabel, who was native to Sauslind and possessed medical expertise, drew her brows and scrunched her face.

After taking in their reactions, I added, “The book isn’t purely myth. It’s a research journal that actually exists. Chief Herbalist Nigel is the most prominent figure in his field. The person who taught him was an expert without peer, whom no other has been able to surpass when it comes to creating cures for disease. The journal they left behind may well be the key we need to create a remedy for the Ashen Nightmare.”

To an herbalist, that text was the equivalent of a real Furya’s Jar, and I sincerely believed in the possibilities it held.

Ever since I entered the palace as the prince’s betrothed, I became well acquainted with the people in the Royal Pharmacy. I saw close-up how their research into the plague was proceeding. That was exactly why I’d been able to convince General Bakula to give me a chance to find a cure. And now, I had to persuade the rest of them as well.

“We have managed to develop medicine to diagnose the Ashen Nightmare and suppress it. The goal is right in front of us. We’re only one step away, I’m sure of it. Even now, the chief herbalist is surely hard at work trying to research a cure. If we need Furya’s Jar to do that, then I’ll do whatever it takes to get my hands on it.”

This was likely the first time since my childhood that I’d ever desired a specific book so much. Back then, I cried to my father, “If we Bernsteins really love books so much, why don’t we have Furya’s Jar?”

But what I really want isn’t a text that will give us all the answers. I want a book built on people’s knowledge, one they’ve poured their blood, sweat, and tears into. If people wanted to call it Furya’s Jar because they saw it as a beacon of hope, what greater compliment could there be to those who contributed to the text?

Thus why I sought their cooperation. When I first tried to convince Grandpa Teddy, I didn’t have any leads. It was like trying to catch a cloud with my hands. Fortunately, the prince had given us our biggest, most reliable clue. There was hope yet we could find a cure.

“Dr. Furness is the author of the text we seek. The prince found information pointing to his family living in this town. I want to follow that lead and see where it takes us. Would the rest of you be willing to lend me your strength?”

Dr. Furness, the man Chief Herbalist Nigel had once apprenticed for, had already passed away. His remaining family had concealed themselves after an incident in the palace. Lord Nigel and His Highness managed to track their whereabouts to this town, but that was as far as they got. All that was left now was to ask around the area and sniff them out. Considering how ignorant of the world I was, I needed people more informed to assist me in the task.

My heartfelt request elicited a mocking smile from Prince Irvin. “If the country and the royal family can’t seek out this family openly, there must be a really good reason for it.”

I sucked in a breath. Dr. Furness’s family did indeed have an ill connection to the royal family. The prince had mentioned the details of that in his letter, but he closed by saying I wouldn’t have any issues. All I could do was trust he was right. It was probably brazen of me to ask for their help when I wasn’t telling them everything, but there were some things I wasn’t in a position to share.

Prince Irvin’s black eyes stared me down, seeming to see right through me. After a moment, they softened. “Fine, but you’ll owe me one.”

Mabel snapped her head around, glowering at him. “You should be just as eager to get information on a cure as the rest of us. How dare you act like you’re the one doing us a favor!”

“El here is the one asking me for help, not the other way around. So of course I’m going to expect a return on my assistance when the time comes.”

“Don’t try to twist the situation,” she spat back.

As the two of them bickered, Lord Alan suddenly said, “Ah! Remember that little healer apprentice from last night? They might know something.”

I nodded, inwardly vexed that I hadn’t stopped them to talk more before we parted.

“That does seem like it’s our best bet right now,” Rei agreed.

We briefly continued discussing our plans, deciding we would work out the finer details on the morrow since it was already so late. Meanwhile, Prince Irvin and Mabel were still trading digs with one another.

Jean mumbled, “You sure this is a good idea? Our group’s already fallin’ apart.”

We set out when the sun rose the next morning, but we soon found it wouldn’t be nearly as easy as we’d hoped. First, we tried to ask the innkeeper about the child, but unfortunately they had already left to run an errand before we got up. The man’s wife informed me they were running low on supplies so he’d left in a hurry to retrieve more. I felt a bit awkward, knowing I was the one who’d put them in this situation.

One tidbit we did learn was that the healer-in-training lived in the mountains, far from the town. Only the innkeeper knew the specifics of their location. Everyone else was tight-lipped. In fact, they practically gave us the cold shoulder when we asked, so we weren’t able to find out any more than that.

We would have to wait until the innkeeper returned to learn anything else. In the meantime, we tried the proper route by having Lord Alan check the town’s address ledger. It wasn’t surprising that we came up empty-handed there, too. If it were that easy to find where Dr. Furness’s family lived, His Highness would have had no need to entrust the issue to me.

The only option we were left with was to split up and ask around to see what information we could glean about healers in the town. As I suspected, most of them had already left to head for the village on Mt. Urma to help the infected there.

People’s anxiety was all the more palpable when speaking to them directly. Word had drifted in about how many were infected there and how dire the situation was. Since this town was a pit stop for travelers heading to and from Mt. Urma, people were naturally afraid. It didn’t matter how much we spread knowledge about preventative care, the Ashen Nightmare still had a high mortality rate, and the fear it inspired in people would not be so easily extinguished. They were clamoring to get the pomelo fruit, hoping it would protect them and keep them healthy. Right now wasn’t harvest season, however, so the only thing available was dried fruit. I could tell them as much, but I suspected it wouldn’t change anything.

I was getting impatient as the minutes turned into hours. My only salvation was the charm (the one the prince gave me before I left) and the letter I had with me, which I clutched tightly to my chest. Now that I had faced people’s fears head-on, I was even more determined.

No matter what it takes, I will find a clue to curing this disease.

I walked around the city until my legs felt like stiff boards and the sun was beginning to set. At that point, we all gathered back at the inn and reported our findings. None of us had met with much success.

We slumped in our seats, exhausted, as we sat at the dinner table. A dour mood hung over us like a cloud. It was Lord Alan who broke the depressing silence with his cheerful voice.

“At any rate, let’s eat up so we can stay healthy. If finding Dr. Furness’s family was so easy, Prince Chris would have already done so. We can’t waste much time here, and moping about isn’t going to cure the infected.”

He has a point.

His words were heartening enough that I reached for my spoon. Jean was trying to push his plate away, scowling at the spicy food stacked on top, but I pushed it back toward him.

The other patrons asked Lord Alan, “Aren’t you gonna sing for us tonight?”

Apparently, word of Lord Alan and his talents was making the rounds; there were more people packed into the main room today than there had been yesterday.

“Standing out this much has its pros and its cons,” Lord Alan mumbled to himself as he picked up his instrument. He glanced over at me. “El, any requests?”

“Huh?” My mouth fell open. No doubt he was simply trying to be considerate. I contemplated for a moment before answering. In the winter, the ground in Ralshen was cold and hard. We needed a song about not losing hope—about waiting for spring’s warm embrace. “Then please play Dreaming of Winter’s End.” It was a northern folk song.

“Sounds good!” Lord Alan casually responded. He began to sing and play as he had done the night before, with people cheering and clapping along. The melody boomed through the room, so everyone could hear.

Our group enjoyed the soothing tune as we began discussing what our plans were for tomorrow. Right as we were deciding we would head for Mt. Urma if we failed to find any leads again, the innkeeper waddled over to us.

“Sorry, I heard you were looking for me.” Apparently, his wife had informed him after he got back with their supplies, so he made his way straight to us.

My face immediately lit up when I saw him. He gave me a strained smile, probably worried I was about to point out other improvements he needed to make at the inn. I quickly dismissed his fears and asked about the child we’d met the other day.

The innkeeper pulled a face. It seemed even he wasn’t keen on discussing them. After hesitating for a moment, he finally said, “Well, I do owe you.” He pulled out a nearby chair, plopped down, and began telling us a story about a man-hating witch.

Long ago, there was a witch who hated everyone. She lived in the forest, far from the town. There were rumors that she performed all manner of odd experiments, so the people kept their distance. The woman also had a daughter, who was married. Unlike the witch, this girl and her husband were close with the villagers. They interacted with them often, fostering trust between them.

Then, sixteen years ago, the Ashen Nightmare broke out across Sauslind. It invaded everyone’s lives, even those ignorant of its existence, turning everything upside down. Apprehension began to build, swallowing up people’s hearts. Those affected couldn’t be saved, and the disease traveled from person to person.

As fear pervaded, the girl and her husband started making strange demands.

“Seal off Mt. Urma’s mines!” they said.

The two claimed a poisonous gas was wafting up from the mines. They said that was the cause of the disease and that Mt. Urma was the epicenter.

I sat up straight in my chair. Something about the story clicked in my head.

The innkeeper quietly continued, “Well, in the end, people just chalked it up to crazy talk. No one would listen to them, not that I can really blame them. We’d spent years digging in those mines, and there’d been no problems before. How were people supposed to believe that it was suddenly a source of evil? Not all the miners working there got infected, either. Everyone thought it was nonsense.”

True, he does have a point.

Plus, the mines were the main source of income for many living around it. They could hardly comply with a haphazard request to seal the mines off simply because someone claimed they were the source of the outbreak.

“And so,” the innkeeper said, his face clouding over, “even though the infections were running rampant, people kept living their lives as if nothing had changed. Who knows why, but that girl and her husband suddenly went into the mines. There was some kinda collapse, and the two of them lost their lives. The witch blamed the townspeople, saying it would never have happened if we’d listened in the first place and cooperated. Now she holds a grudge against us.”

He shook his head. “It’s true what they did was reckless, but if even one person who knew the mines well enough had gone with them, they might have survived. The people here feel pretty guilty over what happened. That’s why none of them want to talk about the witch or get involved with her.”

“But you’re involved with her, aren’t you?” said Prince Irvin.

The innkeeper smiled bitterly. “I lost my son in the first outbreak sixteen years ago. The witch’s daughter and her husband did a lot for me back then. That’s also part of why I’m looking after Gene, to pay them back.”

In other words, Gene was the child they had left behind.

“Guess you’re a softy, huh?” Prince Irvin teased.

I ignored his ribbing, more interested in the big revelations that were wrapped up in the innkeeper’s explanation. “If I may...are any of them healers? Either the witch or the couple who passed away?”

“Yeah.” The innkeeper frowned. “That witch has been working as a healer ever since she came to this town. Seems like her daughter had a bit of knowledge too, but that wasn’t her main job. The daughter’s husband was some kind of professor. A geologist, I think it was.”

He sighed. “That witch was obstinate and hateful from the moment she arrived, but after her daughter and son-in-law passed, it only got worse. If you’re hoping for her help with the outbreak, you’d better look elsewhere.”

I’d mentioned before that I’d learned a lot about the Ashen Nightmare. He probably assumed (and rightly so) that I was looking for the witch because I wanted more information on the plague.

This was our only lead—a sliver of light in the darkness.

“Won’t you please guide us to the witch’s house?” I asked him.

~.~.~.~

Dark clouds loomed above, threatening to pour more snow down on us.

The innkeeper sensed my determination and put us in contact with a guide who made regular trips to the witch’s residence. As eager as I was to follow the lead we’d been given, his story made it clear this woman was nothing if not cantankerous. The hour was already late, and it would take us a while to make it there. So I swallowed back my impatience and decided to wait until the next morning.

We met our guide the following day. They were in their forties and rather taciturn. I was left utterly confused at first when they handed us a bunch of tools for shoveling snow, but I soon discovered their reasoning. Or rather, Jean and Prince Irvin did, since they were the ones doing all of the work.

Although there was a path leading to the witch’s house, which our guide frequently traveled on, there were too few people who used it. When it snowed, the trail was soon covered up without a trace.

As we took an early lunch break, my heart weighed heavy. Hearing about the witch’s hatred for people had been one thing, but I hadn’t really understood the depth of her feelings. I had a new perspective now that I’d seen how lonely and desolate this mountain she called home was.

“Seems like we’re getting even farther and farther into the mountains where there aren’t any people around,” Lord Alan remarked with a smile. He was munching away on a thick cut of meat slapped between two slices of toasted bread. It was wrapped in wax paper to keep his hands clean. “Wasn’t there a folk story you read about a traveler wandering deep into the mountains? They got lost and couldn’t find their way out, right?”

I tilted my head. “It wasn’t a folk story. It was a myth. A young boy—a priest-in-training—went deep into the mountains, where he eventually arrived at an old crone’s house. However, the crone was possessed by a man-eating demon. The boy used three holy relics in his attempt to escape her. The first one mimicked his voice, talking to her to keep her preoccupied. The second one acted as his double, misleading her as he fled. The third took his place when she tried to eat him.”

After a pause, I continued, “However, the crone realized she was being tricked and continued her chase. Her hair was a disheveled mess as she stalked after him, brandishing an enormous butcher’s knife, her mouth cut open at the sides so she could better open her jaw to swallow the boy whole. Just as she was a hair’s breadth from catching up to him...”

Everyone was on tenterhooks, waiting for me to continue, but I was interrupted when some nearby bushes began to rustle. Caught off guard, everyone jolted in surprise. Mabel quickly guided me away while Prince Irvin’s hand hovered over the hilt of his sword. They were all on high alert.

“We sure it’s not a bear or somethin’?”

Jean, bears hibernate in the winter.

As we all trained our eyes on the shaking bush, a wild rabbit jumped out. A winter rabbit, I assumed. It leaped into another bush almost as soon as it appeared, as if scrambling to get away from something. A child darted out from the undergrowth behind it. It was a boy, to be precise. His chestnut-colored hair extended down to his chin, his face stuck in an unfriendly scowl.

The boy’s eyes widened upon seeing how large our group was. You didn’t often see so many people this deep in the mountains. Recognition dawned on his face when he recognized the guide and myself. He remained silent as he studied us suspiciously.

“Ah, there you are, little one.” Prince Irvin dropped his hand from the sword at his hip and tried to soften the atmosphere. “Gene, was it? Perfect timing. We actually came out here to meet your grandma. She lives out here, right?”

Since Lord Gene was already wary of us, Prince Irvin’s casual approach likely only heightened his mistrust of us. He briefly traded glances with our guide, seeming to silently communicate with them before he heaved a sigh. For as much as everyone claimed I was distant and cold for not showing any emotion on my face, Lord Gene and this guide made me look welcoming and warm.

“You bring a gift?”

“Huh?” I blurted back.

Lord Gene sneered. “You’re telling me you came to visit our house empty-handed?”

“Oh dear...” I awkwardly glanced around at the other members of my group. We were so focused on following this lead that we’d neglected basic etiquette.

Prince Irvin stared at the boy for a moment before saying, “You make a good point.” He seemed impressed by how guarded Lord Gene was. “We’ll help you out on your hunt and bring back something to give your grandma, then.” He pulled Jean along with him.

“Why do I gotta go with you?” grumbled my manservant.

“Because you’d piss and moan if I sent you by yourself. I’m being nice and going with you.”

Mabel furrowed her brows. “Both of our armed escorts are going?”

“If it’s only for a little bit, we should be fine,” Lord Alan said, encouraging the other three to go.

Thus, Gene, Prince Irvin, and Jean went off to hunt. Those of us left behind had to continue shoveling the rest of the way to the witch’s residence. Not even twenty minutes passed before the snow started coming down heavy and the wind started whipping around us. The flakes were large and hard enough that they were pelting us like little stones.

“We have to get out of this quickly,” said our guide, who had mostly been silent up until this point. They gave up on the shoveling, instead ushering us along through the drifts.

My horse brayed, nervous as we trudged through the deep and unsteady snow. We managed to coax it along, but visibility was getting worse and worse. It was a grim reminder of how terrifying the weather could be when you ventured out into the wilderness. Worse yet when you were up north where the winters were harsh. Thankfully, we soon reached the witch’s house.

The instant relief and exhaustion I felt as we arrived echoed that of the traveler from the myth. On the advice of our guide, we tied up the horse in a small lean-to outside. We were covered head to toe in snow as we wandered up to the front door. After dusting the worst of it off, we entered.

“Gene, that you?”

Light spilled out from under a door, which swung open as an old woman peered out. It seemed she was in the middle of working when we entered.

Mabel and Rei sharply swallowed their breath, and Lord Alan’s mumbling seemed to sum up what they were all thinking. “Are we sure she’s not a man-eating witch instead of a man-hating one?”

She carried a butcher’s knife coated in red liquid, which gleamed in the light. Blood was splattered all across her apron, too. For a moment, I felt as if I’d been transported into the old legend.

The witch was about the same age as Chief Herbalist Nigel. She had scraggly white hair, left wild and free as if she had no regard for her personal appearance. There were harsh lines chiseled into her face from years of hardship, and her eyes were hardened with hostility and cynicism.

Almost as soon as she spotted us, she snapped, “What do you think you’re doing, entering someone else’s home without permission? Out! Out with you all!”

I panicked, not expecting the first words out of her mouth to be a complete dismissal.

Our guide approached and tried to explain the situation, but she cut them off. “Your excuses are wasted on me. I don’t care if you want shelter from the blizzard or if you came here to chat. I’ll not have any of it. Off with you now!” She spun around, intending to head back to her room.

Mabel and Lord Alan fumbled, trying to call after her. I meant to do the same but paused. The letter I’d tucked into my shirt seemed to call out to me: I know you can do this, Eli.

“Please wait.” Before Lord Alan or Mabel could stop me, I yanked the cloth off my head. There was no fooling the man-hating witch. If I had any chance of communicating with her, I had to do it as Elianna. “Healer of the mountains, I am Elianna Bernstein. Won’t you please hear what I have to say?”

The old woman peered back, her eyes swimming with uncertainty.

The witch guided us into her room, where a familiar sight awaited. There were all kinds of herbs and animal parts that could be used for medical purposes. Some were strewn up to dry, casting shadows on the floor. A cabinet was loaded full of all kinds of jars, some filled with bugs, eyeballs, or other unsightly things. It was like something straight out of a horror book.

An eerie smoke drifted up from a pot on the stove. Accompanying it was a cloying stench that would make anyone unaccustomed to such things turn around and leave immediately.

Lord Alan had experienced this before, and Mabel was no stranger to it either. They entered the room without hesitation. Rei, on the other hand, hesitated and mumbled to himself, “It looks like a witch’s workshop.”

Our guide excused themselves, saying they would go look for Lord Gene and the others. I was concerned for them as well, but I couldn’t let this opportunity slip by.

I turned my attention to the witch. On her work bench was a half-dissected snake. Most likely she’d managed to snag it during its brumation—a lethargic state reptiles entered during the cold that resembled hibernation.

“I guess those stories about witches drinking the lifeblood of snakes is true,” Rei whispered.

I shook my head. “A snake’s gallbladder has a number of medicinal effects. It can be a fever reducer or a cough suppressant. Chief Herbalist Nigel also told me it can be good for the stomach and heart. I assume someone must be ill for you to need something like this?”

The old woman snorted, stabbing her butcher’s knife into the table before turning to face me. “No need to talk about me. What have you come here for? You’re the prince’s betrothed. Why trek all the way into these mountains to see me?”

I figured she would know who I was once I stated my name. There was enmity in her eyes, and the air in the room was thick enough I knew an ordinary approach wouldn’t suffice. I decided to cut to the chase; lip service would be wasted on her. When I heard the story of the man-hating witch the night before, I had a suspicion about something.

“I heard your daughter and her husband claimed that Mt. Urma’s mines were the cause of the plague. If you have a collection of their research notes or some kind of treatise—anything at all—would you let me see it?”

“What?” Mabel blurted out in disbelief, peering over at me.

Our original objective was Dr. Furness’s research notes, which we hoped would lead us to a cure for the Ashen Nightmare. However, hearing what the innkeeper said, I believed there was another potential clue we could follow here.

The plague began with cold-like symptoms. People used those symptoms as a basis for their research. However, Chief Herbalist Nigel disagreed with that approach. He thought the Ashen Nightmare was completely different from a cold, and he tried to develop a cure for it by approaching the disease from a different angle. That was what led him to create the medicine we had now for suppressing the symptoms. He and the other researchers had identified how the Ashen Nightmare was unique from other afflictions, but they hadn’t discovered where the sickness originated.

Sixteen years ago, the Ashen Nightmare spread throughout the land, but because it so resembled that of an ordinary cold, it was difficult for anyone to pinpoint where or what it originally came from. Discovering the origin of the plague would be a monumental discovery. It would also give us a solid lead on how to eradicate this vicious disease altogether.

When I explained as much, the witch’s face filled with emotion. “What makes you think my son-in-law’s notes would have any merit?” She studied me, waiting for a response like a professor testing their pupil.

I sucked in a breath. My reasoning was based on the knowledge I’d gained from my reading as well as educated guesses from the researchers I’d been involved with. “Part of what destroyed the Kai Arg Empire so long ago was an illness that had cold-like symptoms and a high fever. Many people died from it.”

Although similar to the epidemic we were currently facing, this ancient disease didn’t have the Ashen Nightmare’s characteristic symptom of darkened skin. There was little evidence to connect the two as a result. However, there were some researchers who proposed the two were similar because of the way they spread and the high mortality rate. I had recently read a text that supported this analysis. There was still no substantial proof to link the Ashen Nightmare to the disease that plagued the empire, but I was certain they were related.

“There was an entry in the book A Record of the Downfall of the Kai Arg Empire - Astrologian’s Edition. It said, ‘The comet of ill omen fell. I followed its path to a village, where not a single survivor could be found. They all fell asleep long ago and not a single one of them ever opened their eyes again.’”

Behind me, Mabel gasped. “You mean...”

I quietly peered at the witch.

Oracles, referred to as astrologians in the ancient Kai Arg Empire, were akin to the modern-day astrologer. There was once a time when their power eclipsed that of the emperor. However, due to political upheaval, they lost their special status. As the sands of time flowed on, people’s belief in oracles faltered. They soon became little more than legend. When they were still at the height of their power, they collected their vast knowledge into a tome and passed it on to future generations. Though the text itself invited much skepticism from others, researchers considered its contents valuable.

I had received one of these rare volumes before from the prince, where I discovered symptoms of a disease closely resembling the Ashen Nightmare. People fell asleep, never to awaken again.

“That village I mentioned was a mining village, one that was abandoned when the mines dried up,” I said. “There are numerous similarities between what we’re facing now and what they faced then. That plague swept across their lands. Oracles left notes about its symptoms, which sound much like ours. And there was a mention of mines. The only difference is that people’s skin didn’t turn black, but the sickness originally broke out along the foot of the northern mountain range on their border. This time, most of the casualties are coming from Maldura.”

Rei gulped. He must have sensed what I was hinting at.

I stared straight into the old woman’s eyes as I said, “Maldura recently discovered a new mineral. There is a good chance that is the source of the spread this time—either the mineral itself or the mines.”

“But,” Mabel and Rei spoke up in protest at the same time. After an awkward pause, Mabel continued. “Sixteen years ago when it began its spread in Sauslind, there was no talk of a new mineral or anything like that here. Nor has there been any such discovery this time as it once again sweeps across our lands. Though I do see your point about the similarities.”

I nodded and bit my bottom lip. What I was saying was mere conjecture at this point. However, now I knew there was someone else who had claimed the mines were the source of the illness. If I could only see their notes, maybe I could find some clues that would lead us to a better answer. I was staking my hopes on that.

The old woman snorted as she plopped herself down in a nearby chair. “Just as humans evolve, so do illnesses.” She sighed, her breath coming out as a strangled exhale.

Concerned, I opened my mouth to inquire about her health, but she cut me off before I could get my question out.

“Every living thing is the prey of something else. Doesn’t matter where you look, that’s the case everywhere. Illnesses are alive, too, and they’re desperately trying to survive.”

“Should I take that to mean you do think the Ashen Nightmare originated from the mines?” Rei asked.

“Good question. My son-in-law talked a lot about the geological features of the mountain, and how snowfall interacts with the atmosphere deep in the mines. But I’m not a specialist in that field, so I can’t give you all of the details. More importantly, is that really what you came here for?” Her eyes bore into me.

“No,” I answered nervously. “I came here to borrow the research notes Chief Herbalist Nigel’s master, Dr. Furness, left behind. We suspect that it may contain clues for concocting a cure for the Ashen Nightmare. That it may be a real-life Furya’s Jar.”

Mabel and the others glanced over at me, frowns on their faces. They were hesitant to disclose this much information. While it might mean finding the hints we were seeking, there was no way of knowing for certain whether this woman was actually related to Dr. Furness or not.

Silence filled the air as the old woman scrutinized me. She finally snorted again and said, “Nigel, huh? That’s a name I haven’t heard in a while. Guess that weird old fart hasn’t kicked the bucket yet, then.”

“Hmm,” Lord Alan drawled from behind me, mumbling to himself. “I feel like Nigel could say the same to her.”

Mabel was clutching at her chest, eyes full of hope. I, too, clasped my hands as if in prayer and asked, “I assume you are related to Dr. Furness then?”

The old woman scoffed. She looked at us now with the same animosity she’d exhibited when we first arrived. “And what of it? You’ve tacked quite the fancy name onto those notes. Furya’s Jar, hmph. Did you think brownnosing would be enough to convince me to help someone from the royal family, Miss Future-Crown-Princess?”

I swallowed hard. There was no doubt now that she was related to Dr. Furness, but since I was the crown prince’s betrothed, she likely wouldn’t part with his notes easily. After all—

“The royal family killed my son. Why, after all this time, do you think I would agree to help you?”

Mabel jumped in surprise.

This was why the royal family couldn’t search for this woman openly. Twenty years ago, her son was arrested as the mastermind behind a failed attempt to poison the king. The boy in question was seen as a prodigy in the Royal Pharmacy, with a bright future ahead of him. His skills were rumored to surpass even those of Chief Herbalist Nigel. Unfortunately, he lost his way and was executed.

I clenched my fist tight.

Public records listed it as a horrific incident that occurred during the king’s ascension to the throne, but close family members of the accused refused to believe the official story. They considered it murder, not execution. Judging by what I’d heard from Duchess Rosalia, the young healer probably got caught up in the political infighting at the palace and was used as a scapegoat.

The witch seemed to see right through me, her tone taking a harsh edge as she spat, “You royal folk only think about yourselves. You pinned all the blame on my son and killed him, just so you could clean up the incident and put a pretty bow on it. My entire family was ostracized after that. We lost our house and our jobs. My husband was so consumed by grief that he soon followed my son to the grave. Two decades have passed since and now here you come, wanting my help—wanting my family’s research because sickness is spreading throughout the country. Are we nobles nothing more than pawns to the Sauslind royal family?”

I gritted my teeth, unable to respond. My heart ached the moment I heard of the incident, but that was because I knew Chief Herbalist Nigel, His Majesty, and Duchess Rosalia personally. I never thought of the hardships the executed man’s family might face in the aftermath. Worse, I was connected to the royal family and I’d just waltzed right in here asking for help without regard to her feelings. It was only natural for her to resent us.

I continued chewing on my lip.

The old woman sighed, her anger and indignation fading. She huffed and said, “I have no intention of helping either Sauslind or its royal family. Now, get out of my house.”

“But...!”

We needed this lead. There were people out there suffering. Everyone was consumed by the fear that they might be next. Moreover, a cure was our only hope of stopping a potential war with Maldura. Chief Herbalist Nigel, his team, and the doctors at the treatment center were no doubt pouring their blood, sweat, and tears into trying to develop a cure. I wanted Dr. Furness’s research notes so we could help them. Books weren’t the most valuable thing in the world. I understood that. However, this book could give us a clue we desperately needed.

“I beg you to reconsider,” I said with all sincerity.

The tone of her voice shifted. “Well, I suppose if you’re that set on it, I could consider lending his notes to you.”

“Really?” I blurted, filled with surprise and delight.

The woman quietly fixed her eyes on me. The next words that came out of her mouth struck me speechless, causing my whole body to freeze in place.

“That is, if you agree to step down from your position as the crown prince’s fiancée, Elianna Bernstein.”

~.~.~.~

Tension hung thick in the air, at least until someone clapped their hands together and broke it.

“Not happening!”

Their voice was cheerful, a strong contrast to the solemn atmosphere in the room.

I blinked several times. Even the old woman looked baffled as she turned her attention to the person who had interrupted us. Behind me, our court musician was dressed as an ordinary servant.

“C’mon, you could turn the heavens upside down and we still couldn’t honor that request. Or do you want the Demon Lo—I mean, Prince Chris—to strangle me in my sleep?”

...Pardon?

Relieved at the light and airy turn the conversation had taken, I glanced at Lord Alan. He had a grin like a Cheshire cat’s stretched across his face.

“The people of Sauslind need someone like Lady Elianna. Asking her to step down from her position is out of the question,” he said firmly. “I understand why you hold a grudge against the country and the royal family, Miss Man-hating Witch. But do you really intend to prioritize your individual feelings over the possibility that those notes might provide a way for us to save hundreds or thousands of lives? Aren’t you a healer? Didn’t you choose this path because you wanted to save those afflicted by injury or illness?”

The old woman’s face puckered. Clearly, he’d hit a sore spot.

“Lady healer, it pains me deeply as a citizen of Sauslind to hear of the grief and loss you have suffered, but please...” Mabel took a knee as she pleaded with the witch. “I implore you to lend your wisdom to Lady Elianna. I am certain she will use it to save many people. She is, after all, the Bibliophile Princess. She is neither the type to sniff her nose at the knowledge of our forebears nor to trample the hard work they poured into advancing the field of medicine.”

The way she entreated the old woman made my heart squeeze. The nickname “Bibliophile Princess” didn’t generally have good connotations. Since the prince often called me that affectionately, I’d gradually started to accept it. There was still a part of me that felt a bit uncomfortable with it, but even other people were using it as a term of endearment. If they wanted to refer to me as a bibliophile and protector of ancient knowledge, then I considered that the highest praise.

As I trembled with emotion, the old woman scoffed. “I guess you Bernsteins are no different from the royal family.” Resentment oozed from her voice.

Lord Alan cut in, “Um, Miss Witch... Actually, I haven’t even asked for your name yet. How rude of me. What should we call you?”

I flushed with shame. No matter how impatient I was to get my hands on Dr. Furness’s research materials, it was still inconsiderate of me not to ask the woman for her name.

“Hmph,” said the old woman. “I’m Hester Vassos.”

“What?!” I squeaked.

Hester Vassos was the author of such books as How to Distinguish Edible Grasses, A Household Encyclopedia of Medicinal Herbs, and What Are the Plants We Call Wild Grass? There were countless other texts as well, all on medicinal herbs. The explanation I gave the other day about Kenneth’s Herb was also based on a book she wrote.

Given the state of affairs in her day and age, having the same knowledge as the men in a field wasn’t enough for a woman to be recognized. Dr. Hester must have put in two or three times the work of her peers, clawing and biting her way up. She also managed to dissect the knowledge she had gained into simple layman’s terms so even the women in rural villages and the poor sections of the capital could read and understand her works. By recording decades of dietary knowledge that women had passed down through generations, she also gave many in the academic field a new respect for the fairer sex.

It was a different scholar who first discovered Kenneth’s Herb, but the one who came up with solid proof of the herb’s effects was some unknown housewife. Hester Vassos was the one who recorded that woman’s wisdom.

“You’re her?” My voice cracked as I asked.

The old woman grunted in the most unladylike way, turning the other cheek at me. “And so what if I am?”

This was unbelievable.

This woman is absolutely amazing!

My impressions of her changed completely as my heart trembled with admiration. I mumbled something without even thinking. My voice was barely above a whisper, but it was still loud enough that everyone turned their gaze on me, stunned with disbelief at what I was saying. I paid them no heed, clutching my hands over my chest as I sucked in a breath and repeated the words again, louder this time.

“Can I please have your autograph?”

Silence fell. As it stretched on, I thought, Oh dear, maybe I’ve made a bit of a mistake.

Rei was giving me a chilly look, but he wasn’t the only one; Mabel’s disapproving gaze was boring into me too.

Lord Alan quietly snickered to himself.

I cleared my throat. This obviously wasn’t the time or place for this.

Dr. Hester grunted again, although this time there was a bit of a smile on her face. “Honestly, you Bernsteins really are something else.” She heaved herself out of the chair in an exaggerated motion, waddling over to a nearby bookshelf that was loaded with medicinal herbs. From it, she produced a single book. “My father, Furness, was an intense male chauvinist.”

“What?” I stared back at her, doubting my ears for a moment.

Her lips twisted with irony. “Let me guess. You figured the research journal hailed as Furya’s Jar had to be written by a man of moral and upstanding character, right? But a researcher’s ability and their disposition are entirely unrelated.” She ventured back over to her chair, heaved a sigh, and sank back down into it.

Again, I wanted to ask after her health since she seemed to be struggling, but those scrutinizing eyes of hers silenced me before I could get the words out.

“My father took Nigel and other male apprentices, but he refused to teach me or any of the other girls how to read or write a single letter. He said, ‘A woman’s place is in the home,’ and, ‘Your job is to get married and have kids.’ It didn’t matter how much I insisted I wanted to learn about herbalism. He wouldn’t give me the time of day. That’s why I ran away from home and went off to find somewhere I could study it on my own. But...”

But the world was unforgiving. It was common for nobles to learn reading and writing, but even if a commoner received such education, it would require an immense amount of money to pursue a specialty in any field, as well as support from their family. The literacy rate among the common people was currently climbing, but for those in remote villages where conditions were harsh, work was more essential than learning.

The conditions were even worse for Dr. Hester’s generation, since war periodically broke out and the political climate was unstable. I couldn’t even imagine how difficult that must have made it for a woman like her to find somewhere she could learn.

However, Dr. Hester merely huffed, as if dismissing my concern. “Incidentally,” she said, her face softening, “I eventually found myself in a place that was, well, odd. All the children and the adults there could read, and all of the valuable books you could imagine were kept in this magnificent library where anyone could go and learn. The rulers of that region even collected all my notes together and made them into a book. They...really were a strange bunch of nobles. I’m talking about your father and grandfather, by the way, Miss Bernstein.”

I almost gaped at her and had to use my hand to keep my jaw from dropping.

“Ah, now it all makes sense,” Lord Alan remarked. “That’s why it upset you to hear that Lady Elianna got engaged to the prince. You owe their family a debt of gratitude, and yet their only daughter is marrying into the royal family which you despise. I get now why you wanted them to separate.”

The old woman gave a heavy, irritable sigh as she gazed down at the book in her lap, deep in thought. “My father never recognized what I accomplished, not even on his deathbed. I know firsthand how toxic such bigotry can be. That’s why...” She held the book out to me. Her eyes were full of emotion, as if she were silently saying she wouldn’t repeat the same mistake as her father. “I wouldn’t willingly hand this thing over to the prince’s betrothed, but I don’t mind handing it over to the Bibliophile Princess. I look forward to seeing whether you can make any use of it.” Her lips finally broke into a smile.

My hands trembled as I reached out to accept it from her. The fact that she had entrusted something like this to me indicated she was acknowledging me. That warmed my heart.

“Thank you, Dr. Hester.”

At last, I had my hands on Furya’s Jar. This put us one step closer to finding a cure for the Ashen Nightmare. And with it, we could save people from their suffering and put a stop to the potential war looming over us. Joy and hope welled up inside of me as I hugged the text close to my chest.

Dr. Hester’s cheeks colored as she huffed, pointing toward the door to a different room. “You’ll find my son-in-law’s research notes and materials in there. Dig through them at your leisure.”

“We’ll definitely do that, thank you,” I said.

Mabel and the others were grinning alongside me.

As if to distract from all the sentimentality, Dr. Hester suddenly said, “Gene sure is late.” Then she froze, taking several shallow breaths in quick succession.

“Are you all right?” I asked, anxiety mounting.

Dr. Hester clutched at her chest and her face contorted in agony. “That medicine, over there,” she said, motioning with her finger.

Mabel hurriedly grabbed it, pausing briefly to take a sniff. Realization dawned on her face. “Do you have heart problems?”

The old woman struggled to swallow the liquid contained within the vial, taking sharp, raspy breaths.

“Come, we need to get you somewhere you can lie down,” said Mabel.

Dr. Hester pulled a face but reluctantly complied. She leaned on Mabel for support as she headed for her bedroom. Concerned, I followed close behind. Mabel quickly instructed Lord Alan to fetch some warm water. Rei silently stalked off to the room where all the geological notes were kept.

Once we got Dr. Hester into her bed, Mabel gave several more instructions which had us racing around to fetch things. It was in the midst of this that I caught a whiff of smoke, as if something were burning. I immediately headed toward the source. Rei must have smelled it too, because he came darting out of the room he was in. When we opened the door to the room where all the herbs were stored, what awaited us made me gasp.

“What is...”

Red flames were swallowing up the interior. Even Rei was at a loss for words. The fire snapped and crackled, sparks dancing through the air. In the middle of it all stood a silhouette, holding Furya’s Jar, which I had left in my haste to look after Dr. Hester.

I couldn’t comprehend what was happening. All I could do was call their name.

“Jean...?”