The Vampire & Her Witch Chapter 2018: The Answers She Needs (Part Two)

"...In the end, the man they called the ’Five Fold Boon’ became the most hunted man in the Eldritch world..."

Erkembalt’s words were like a wet blanket thrown over a bed of coals, instantly robbing the room of the warmth that had flowed from Aspakos’s praise of the Olive Witch as a peacemaker.

No one in the room was ignorant of the position the Bloodroot Empire found itself in. The next several years would be filled with internal tensions as dozens of different peoples and cultures found ways to stitch themselves together into a somewhat cohesive whole. It might be a generation or more before the Empire wasn’t plagued by internal strife that threatened to tear it apart.

External pressures would only make that worse. A crusade was the most direct way that the Church or the Kingdom of Gaal could strike at them, but there were certainly others. Spies who stirred the pot in the hopes of triggering a rebellion were a predictable problem. Add a Church willing to stoke the fears of zealots living within the empire’s borders and the opportunity for tragedy only grew.

In that environment, a witch who could bind people with unbreakable oaths would be a powerful tool. Whether the Olive Witch acted as a safeguard against the oaths lords, magistrates, and soldiers took or served as the lynchpin of a treaty with their neighbors in the Kingdom of Gaal, the power to create a pact that seeped into a person’s flesh and bones would be tremendously valuable.

So valuable that their enemies couldn’t allow such a person to live.

Assassins would plague her. Even the people of the Empire might turn against her if they felt like her pacts were unfair shackles they could never escape. Heila was the great healer who, even now, was helping to ensure that mothers and their children both survived dangerous births. Isabell was the architect who would transform people’s day-to-day lives in countless ways...

It wouldn’t take long for the people of the Bloodroot Empire to see Ashlynn’s witches as great blessings for the realm. But if Jocelynn took up the role Aspakos had just described, even if it was essential to the Empire’s survival, she could find herself the most hated woman in the Empire.

Jocelynn raised the small cup to her lips and took another sip of the potent, fruity beverage. It burned all the way down her throat and her eyes watered at the strength of it but she welcomed both sensations along with the warmth that spread from her belly, pushing back against the chill that gripped her heart.

If her sister needed her to take up such a burden to preserve what she was building... Jocelynn was willing. Even if...

"This is why you shouldn’t come to this old buzzard for advice," Erkembalt said as he watched Jocelynn’s mind sinking further and further into a dark fate resembling the one the previous Olive Witch had suffered.

"It’s not my business to tell a princess how to be a witch," Erkembalt said. "But if you were one of my brats, I’d tell you to do whatever made you happiest," the artificer said. "Make people call you the Lamplighter Witch and see to it that no home is dark or cold and you’ll already have done more for common folk than half the Eldritch lords ever did, to say nothing of the useless lordlings ruling over humans."

"Her Dominion appointed you as the Lord Minister of Commerce," Erkembalt added. "You know, there are methods to pack food in olive oil and preserve it for months at a time. If you don’t know them, I can teach you. Fight winter famine and see the Empire flourish. Do that and sleep soundly every night knowing that mothers and fathers haven’t starved themselves to fill their children’s bellies."

"But is that enough?" Jocelynn asked. "If the last Olive Witch was called the ’Five Fold Boon,’ how can I stop at just one or two things?"

So far, she was struggling to understand what any of these things had to do with being a witch. She understood the olive industry. Keating’s olive orchards were treasures that had been nurtured for hundreds of years. Many of them were older than the duchy itself, and the oil produced by those orchards competed directly against the whale oil produced in Blackwell for a number of purposes.

But if she was going to be the Olive Witch, there had to be something more that she could do...

"Just one or two things," Erkembalt said with a snort. "You don’t have to take on the whole world, you know. The end of the Age of Ice was a terrible time. Reclaiming the world after it spent hundreds of years trapped beneath the ice was a perilous, daunting task. People teetered on the brink. Harvests failed. Herds died in droves if they couldn’t be sheltered through a harsh winter. None of us has ever faced such hardship from the forces of nature," Erkembalt said.

"They face different hardships," Aspakos said. "The guidance of the sun and stars can no longer be trusted. Cruel masters enslave their fates and steal their joys. The common people of Gaal starve even in good years when the harvest is plentiful because their lords and priests take too much from them."

"Witches are hunted, and the common practice of even mundane sorcery can see a person burned at the stake or tormented by the human’s Inquisition," the feathered sorcerer added pointedly. "Don’t diminish their hardships because they come from cruel men and a crueler faith instead of cold, uncaring nature. Princess Jocelynn isn’t wrong to wish to do more with the gifts she would receive as the next Olive Witch."

"More?" Erkembalt fumed. "You want to see more? I’ll show you more," he said, standing up from his seat and rolling up his sleeves as he stalked over to the forge.

"Sir Ollie," Erkembalt said as he retrieved a jug from a nearby shelf. "Can you work the bellows for me? A forge fire isn’t a roasting hearth, but you know how to stoke a flame, don’t you? Smooth and steady, not too hot," he said.

"Sure," Ollie said, stripping off his cloak and the outer tunic before rolling up his sleeves to expose well-toned forearms. "What color do you want the coals to be? Dull red, early orange, or bright orange?"

"Early orange," Erkembalt said. He pulled the stopper from the jug and poured a thick, viscous oil into a deep iron pan that he set beside the coals of the forge to warm.

"Now," Erkembalt said, turning to face Jocelynn and Eira where they sat at the table. "The last Olive Witch was a good man who did what most would do in a time of crisis. He fed people. He warmed their homes. He pushed back the dark to keep them safe. But that was long ago in a time when swords were cast from bronze and tools were made of stone."

"You came to discover what kind of witch you could be," Erkembalt said. "You want to know what sort of paths could lie ahead. Let me show you how an artificer uses oils and woods," he said as he moved over to his workbench to collect a pair of long-handled tongs.

"Erkembalt," Aspakos warned. "Now is not the time for a hasty making. She can come back tomorrow, when we’ve had time to prepare."

"No, now is exactly the time," Erkembalt insisted as Ollie began to work the bellows, slowly waking up the slumbering coals of the forge. "This isn’t just striking while the iron is hot, old friend," he said, chuckling at his own joke. "It’s recognizing the moment when it’s upon you."

"You’ve lost the drive to create, Aspakos," Erkembalt said with a heavy sigh. "And you favor the paths that are the easiest to see. But if she wants options, if she wants to squeeze out every last drop of what the Olive Tree’s gifts could give her, then tell me, you ragged buzzard, what could give her more options than embracing the path of alchemy?"

"Alchemy," Aspakos said, clicking his tongue and shaking his head as he watched Erkembalt sorting through a pile of half-finished blades. "So you intend to infuse the quenching oil?"

"Naturally," Erkembalt said, pausing as he looked at the shelf on the far wall, the one that held bits of bone and jars full of everything from dried herbs to preserved seeds and even small, dried branches covered with thorns.

"In that case," Aspakos said, turning his gaze to Jocelynn. "Princess Jocelynn is carrying something precious. If she’s willing to offer it up to your alchemy, that is..."