#44
“…A witch?”
Jeha asked, his expression laced with skepticism. Benato nodded confidently.
“She has already been confined to the inn’s storage room. I apologize for burdening Your Excellency with unnecessary concerns due to such an unclean heretic.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“Then I shall report this matter to the Archbishop and proceed to interrogate the witch.”
Jeha nodded silently. Benato rose from his seat and started towards the stairs.
Jeha furrowed his brow, pretending to take a sip of his tea.
‘A witch, hidden deep in the mountains.’ She might be a genuine witch, but it was far more probable that she was merely an old woman living in solitude deep within the mountains, an herb gatherer, or perhaps an ordinary person cast out and shunned by the villagers.
‘What should I do about this…?’
Jeha pondered, his gaze fixed on Kkamangi, the unwitting catalyst for this predicament. Because he had failed to adequately prevent Kkamangi’s seal from breaking, an innocent individual was now facing dire consequences. While playing the villain had its amusement, he couldn’t simply stand by and allow a blameless person to suffer on his account.
As he was lost in thought, the distinct sound of footsteps descending the stairs reached his ears.
Turning his head, he saw Benato and Hereis emerge on the first floor, walking side by side.
Unlike the attention Jeha had garnered upon his arrival, a distinctly different set of gazes now fell upon Hereis. Priests and paladins alike regarded him with eyes brimming with a mixture of sympathy, pity, and sorrow. Naturally, a few individuals also cast glances of disappointment and disdain his way. Yet, upon observing the red, swollen eyes of the priests who had descended with Hereis, even these critical stares softened somewhat.
“Hereis.”
Jeha called out his name without hesitation, rising from his seat. Only then, as he approached, did he offer a slight bow and utter a formal, “Archbishop.”
“Your Excellency.”
Hereis’s silver eyelashes, slightly lowered as he addressed Jeha, fluttered delicately. To Jeha, this seemed like a sign of shyness, but judging by the hostile glares piercing his back, it likely conveyed an entirely different meaning to the others present.
“I heard a witch was apprehended. Sir Benato will be conducting the interrogation, I presume?”
“Yes. I, too, just heard the news and came down to be present for it.”
“Is that so?”
Jeha observed Benato’s demeanor. He wore a triumphant expression, and it was understandable, given that he had apprehended a witch and presented her before the Archbishop.
“It’s quite astonishing that true witches still exist in this day and age. Might I also be permitted to attend the interrogation?”
“That would be—”
“By all means.”
Just as Benato was about to voice his refusal, Hereis nodded, granting permission. A fleeting flicker of displeasure crossed Benato’s eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.
“Of course, Your Excellency.”
Benato, too, followed suit, nodding his assent.
****
Following their guide, they arrived at the inn’s storage room, its entrance firmly guarded by several paladins. As the locked door swung open, revealing the interior, they found various unremoved items densely packed into the corners. In the center of the room, on a wooden chair, sat the woman accused of being a witch, her body thoroughly enshrouded in chains.
With all the windows sealed shut, the interior was plunged into deep shadow. As the door closed behind them, only the wavering glow of several candles within the storage room cast an eerie, ominous ambiance.
A faint, incessant rattling echoed through the air. Jeha realized it was the chains binding the witch, clinking against each other. Upon closer inspection, he could see the witch trembling visibly from head to toe.
“…This old wom—this old woman is a witch?”
Jeha questioned, his gaze fixed on the elderly woman, clad in shabby clothes and with a full head of white hair. Whether from being forcibly dragged here or simply her natural state, her hair was a tangled mess, her clothes were torn in several places, and she stood barefoot, devoid of shoes. One of her eyes, clearly wide with terror, had clouded over, suggesting she might be suffering from cataracts.
“She is said to have lived alone in seclusion for a long time, deep within the mountains where traces of demonic energy were detected. And when we searched her hut, we uncovered these items.”
Benato gestured towards a table positioned to one side.
Upon the table lay several bundles of dried herbs, a few crude, unidentifiable tools, and a handful of small wooden bowls. Benato picked up one of these bowls, then lifted a minuscule object from within, holding it up for display.
“It’s an animal bone. Witches commonly use such items for divination.”
Jeha took a step closer, scrutinizing the bone intently before speaking.
“To me, that looks like a chicken bone. Couldn’t it simply be a leftover from a boiled chicken? If so, you’d find plenty scattered in this inn’s rubbish bin.”
Benato’s face stiffened slightly. Soon, he retorted as if in rebuttal.
“While it may be nothing more than a leftover bone to an ordinary person, to witches, it often serves as a crucial tool for divination or spellcasting.”
“Ah, I see.”
Instead of provoking Benato further, Jeha simply nodded agreeably. Only then did a hint of relaxation soften Benato’s features.
As Jeha retreated a step, Benato positioned himself before the old woman, hands clasped behind his back, a solemn expression on his face. This mere presence seemed to ignite such immense fear and pressure within the old woman that the clinking of her chains grew more frantic and loud.
Jeha glanced at Benato’s back for a moment before shifting his gaze to the side. Hereis, as was his habit when wishing to conceal his emotions, had his eyes subtly lowered. Being shorter, Jeha could discern the depths of his profound blue irises, which held a mixture of pity and faint disdain.
“I am an Inquisitor, dispatched directly from the Grand Temple. From this moment forth, you shall answer my questions truthfully, without faltering on a single word.”
“Y-yes… yes, sir…”
The old woman responded, her voice trembling uncontrollably.
“What is your name?”
“M-my name is Abet… Abet.”
“Your age?”
“Having grown up an orphan, I do not know my precise age, but I have lived for approximately fifty years.”
“Since when have you lived in that mountain hut?”
“M-my husband died young, and with no way to make a living, I retreated into the mountains, gathering and selling herbs. It has been over twenty years since then.”
“Do you have any children?”
“I had two sons, but both died young from illness.”
The instant the old woman finished her reply, Benato slammed his hand down on the adjacent table, then jabbed a finger at her, shouting.
“The deaths of your husband and sons, they were all your doing, weren’t they?!”
Jeha was left utterly dumbfounded by Benato’s baseless and relentless badgering.
“Sir! Sir! Kill my only husband and sons, who were more precious than gold, with my own hands? It’s unjust! That is absolutely not true! I am no witch; I am merely a poor, insignificant old woman who ekes out a living by gathering and selling herbs in the forest. Please, I beg you, show me mercy!”
“Hmph, I knew you would deny it. You there! Bring in the witness!”
Benato bellowed towards the outside.
No sooner had he spoken, the securely closed door swung open, and a paladin led in several people. All of them looked shabby, appearing to be impoverished common folk. The moment they registered the scene inside, they immediately knelt en masse.
“Sir, sir, we are innocent!”
“That’s right, sir. I know nothing!”
The people cried out repeatedly.
“Silence!”
Benato’s booming command silenced them as if by magic.
“You, what is your name?”
“My name is Paul. I am merely a commoner who barely makes a living by chopping and selling wood.”
“Have you ever seen this old woman?”
At Benato’s question, the man cautiously raised his head to look at the old woman bound in chains. The moment their eyes met, he quickly bowed his head flat to the floor again.
“Y-yes… yes. I’ve seen her a few times when I went to the mountains.”
“What was the old woman doing then?”
“The old woman… the old woman… was carrying a basket and gathering herbs.”
“Did you know that this old woman was a witch?”
At Benato’s question, the man recoiled.
“How could I?! How could I?! I merely encountered her a few times in the mountains; I never even exchanged a single word with her. How could an ordinary person like me tell if she was a witch or just an old woman? Please, sir, have mercy!”
The man, prostrate on the ground, trembled visibly.
Jeha realized that despite the Inquisition having been abolished decades ago, its infamous reputation still instilled immense terror among the populace.
Benato’s sharp gaze lingered on the man for a moment before shifting to the middle-aged woman prostrated beside him. Feeling his stare, the woman began to tremble faintly.
“What is your name?”
“M-Marsha.”
“You are acquainted with this witch, are you not?”
“Th-that is correct.”
“Hmm.”
Benato nodded, as if the desired answer was finally emerging. He then glanced at the priest seated at a small table at the far end of the storage room, who was rapidly jotting down the current situation and dialogue. The priest nodded, indicating he had recorded everything.