The Vampire & Her Witch Chapter 2026: Private Truths

"Now that you’ve learned a bit about what power can do, are you any closer to knowing what kind of Olive Witch you want to be?"

Erkembalt’s question brought everything back into focus.

Jocelynn had only been given three short days to prepare for her Trial of Witchcraft, and now, one of those days was over. She’d worked well past sunset to bring Crimson Promise into being, but did the dagger point the way forward for her?

"I don’t know if I’m closer or not," Jocelynn admitted after a few moments of careful thought. "I feel less lost. A ship in a fog bank is all but certain to run aground," she said. "Even if I’m not any closer, you’ve helped to clear the fog for me."

"Thank you, Master Erkembalt," Jocelynn said, bowing her head to the artificer. "And thank you as well, Commander Aspakos," she added, nodding to the feathered sorcerer in turn. "You’ve both helped a great deal."

"We’re happy to help, Princess Jocelynn," Aspakos said. "If you need help again in the future, please reach out for it.

"Of course," Jocelynn said, clutching the hilt of Crimson Promise tightly. "Thank you for this," she told Erkembalt. "Whatever happens, I’ll treasure it. And if I don’t make it," she said, her voice catching slightly before she forced herself to say what needed to be said. "If I don’t make it, then Lady Eira will bring it back to you."

"Bah," Erkembalt said as he took one last, lingering look at the red-gold blade and the soot-stained princess who held it. "Then I hope to never see that thing again unless it’s in your hands. There’ll be an apprentice bench waiting for you in my shop when you’re done with your trial," he added in a voice that was rougher than usual.

"Be sure you come to claim it," Erkembalt said.

"Mmm, I will," Jocelynn promised, nodding one last time to both the sorcerer and artificer before she, Ollie, and Eira left the shop.

For several minutes, neither Erkembalt nor Aspakos spoke. They listened to the sound of the three young people speaking outside as Ollie said he’d keep his promise to cook his favorite dish for Jocelynn and Eira offered to help the young princess wash up from her time at the forge.

The voices slowly faded away as they crossed the inner bailey, returning to the fortress-proper to bring their day to a close. It was only when both men were certain that the trio were gone that Aspakos broke the silence.

"How long?" Aspakos asked in a light, mildly curious tone.

"For as long as she wants to be an apprentice," Erkembalt said with a shrug as though it were obvious.

"That’s not what I meant, swindler, and you know it," Aspakos chided. "How long did you really spend crafting that Emberheart blade? Don’t tell me that you worked up something like that in a few afternoons since crossing the mountains."

"Six months," Erkembalt said with a snort. "A year if I’m honest. I started with enough steel for a small sword but it fought me. In the end, a dagger was the most I could manage."

"And how long have you spent looking for a reagent to awaken the blade?" Aspakos asked.

"Three years," Erkembalt admitted. "Nothing worked. I even bartered with the Cauldron of Flame for a chance to throw it into their smoldering pit. Nothing."

"It would have been a shame if she’d chosen one of the other blades, wouldn’t it?" Aspakos said, giving his old friend a pointed look. "Or were you confident that she wouldn’t select the others?"

"I wasn’t confident at all," the artificer said. "And I wouldn’t have cared, no matter what she picked."

"The young ones might believe that," Aspakos said as he walked over to Erkembalt’s collection of distilled spirits and began perusing the labels. "But I know you better."

"You knew me better," Erkembalt corrected as he joined Aspakos, hesitating for a moment before selecting a bottle and pouring two cups that smelled strongly of vanilla and clove. "You’ve barely seen me around young brats. I’m nicer after having a few of my own."

"So you’d really have let her waste the branch and leaves of an Ancient Oak on a cook’s knife?" Aspakos said, cocking his head to the side and looking at Erkembalt with dark, disbelieving eyes.

"It was hers to waste," Erkembalt said after taking a sip and savoring the flavor. It would be better if he could age it in an oak cask for a time, and for a brief moment, he pondered the sort of spirit he could craft if he aged it in a cask made from the wood of an Ancient Oak, but he quickly discarded the thought.

He had no intention of taking on the sort of debts that would come with such a generous quantity of wood from the Ancient Oak. Or at least, if he ever did, it wouldn’t be for something as silly as a bottle of alcohol.

"If she chose the cook’s knife, it would have found its way to Sir Ollie’s hands after she failed her trial," Erkembalt said. "That wouldn’t have been a waste at all. A tragedy, but not a waste."

"I almost wish she’d chosen the woodsman’s knife," the artificer said, looking at the unfinished blade where it sat on a shelf. "An Enduring Woodsman wouldn’t have been a bad thing to bring into being."

"It would have represented her best chance of surviving her trial," Aspakos agreed, nodding between sips of the potent beverage that Erkembalt had poured for him. "At least she avoided the worst choice."

"If she comes back," Aspakos asked gently. "If she survives the trial ahead, will you tell her the truth?"

"Of course," Erkembalt said. "There’d be no hiding it from her once she started to learn how items of power are truly crafted. But for now.... For now, it’s better that she believes that she did something significant in the making."

"It’s not even much of a lie," Erkembalt said, more to reassure himself than because it was true. "Without the treasure she brought, the blade would still be a hunk of cold, dead steel. She birthed a flame tonight, and if she carries that success with her... She might just survive what’s ahead."

"Do you believe that, old friend?" Aspakos said, staring at the door that Jocelynn had left through just minutes ago. "Do you really believe she can survive a Trial of Witchcraft as she is now? If she were one of your kits, would you let her face the trial?"

"If she were one of mine, I’d have bundled her up and carried her back across the mountains if I had to take a team of dogs and a sled to make the journey," Erkembalt said. "She’s far too brittle. The cracks are already there, and nothing short of reforging her will mend them. Even if she survives, she might be unrecognizable to her loved ones..."

"I wouldn’t wish her fate on anyone," Erkembalt concluded. "And I doubt that she can escape it. But if finishing a blade can give her hope for the next few days," he said, tipping his cup up as he drained the last drops of the heady drink. "It’s better than leaving her in despair before the end."

"You’re right," Aspakos said as he finished the last of his own drink. "You are gentler with the young ones than you were back then. There was a time when you would have told her to give up now, before she loses her life in a trial she can’t hope to overcome."

"So even you think she has no hope?" Erkembalt said. His tail drooped, and his eyes drifted to a corner of the shop that held stacks of loose stock and other supplies. It would be a good place for an apprentice bench.

"I dare not discern the fates of witches or those who might become witches," Aspakos said. "The price is far too high. Princess Jocelynn may yet survive the trial to come. I hope that she does," he said as he stood to leave.

"Because if she dies to one of Empress Ashlynn’s seeds, then this Mother of Trees may never make another witch," Aspakos said. "And that would have dire consequences for all of us..."