The night was calm and quiet… unlike her morning. Her eyes woke up to light brighter than she was used to. Her door was wide open allowing the morning sun to flood the cabin. But more concerning was the handful of plate-clad soldiers surrounding her bedside with bladed weapons inches from her body.

  “On your feet, witch.” said one of the men. “Nice and slow.”

  The woman sat up and tried getting out of bed. “What’s the meaning o---” before she could finish her sentence, another soldier came from behind and looped a cloth over her mouth, ensuring she could do nothing but mumble.

  “Can’t have you talkin’. Might cast a hex on us.” The soldier said, gesturing for another of his men to tie her hands. The woman grumbled in protest. “No finger wigglin’ neither. We’ve seen what your kind can do. Come on… we got a bit of a walk to Pinehold.” He led her outside to another group of soldiers who looked eager for a fight. “Been trackin’ you for some time. Caught you castin’ spells. Proper witchcraft I reckon. You know the law. You’ll answer to our commander, and await your trial. But the way I see it, with all your stuff, we have enough proof to see you hang. Shame too...” The woman stared at him with piercing green eyes and a band of freckles across her pale face. “Such a pretty thing.” He shoved her forward. The woman stumbled before making her way down the dirt forest path. She walked carefully as she could. The stones and sticks on the road were not kind to her bare feet, and her nightgown did nothing to warm her against the brisk morning air. The lead soldier waved to the group of soldiers still by the cottage. “Anything the witch so much as breathed on, I want it brought for evidence.”

  It was a few hours through the forest. The woman was beginning to tire, mostly due to the abuse her feet had taken and the harassment from the soldiers who walked behind her. They came to the town of Pinehold, surrounded by walls made of mortar and stone. Guards at the wooden gate stepped aside as the escort of soldiers led the witch into the streets. Most of the buildings were made of maple wood and tarred rooftops. Aside from the occasional sign or painted building, everything looked the same. The people, however, looked to be prospering. People were well dressed and clean, and looked healthy for the most part.

  The morning was still young, but there were folk walking around setting up their shops and making ready for long journeys ahead. Most of them ignored the armed guard escort of the witch, others gave a passing glance. This was no spectacle. It wasn’t long before whispers carried off from the guards and spread through the public. Odd stares turned into looks of disgust. The guards took her to a keep, presumably where the prison and barracks were held. Before they entered, a stoic plate-armored knight stood in front of the main door. He had been giving orders to other guards. Unlike them, he wore a blue gold-lined tabard. The scar across his left eye gave the impression that he was one of the few guards who have actually seen a fight. Though middle-aged, he was still a handsome fellow regardless of his damaged face. The escort stopped in front of him as he turned to face them, crossing his arms.

  “Commander Stone.” one of the guards said as they all saluted.

  “What’s all this then?” Stone questioned, his voice assertive even in a question.

  One of the soldiers stepped forward stammering, “A-Aye, sir. Here be that witch we told ye we were huntin’. Tracked ‘er down to a wee little cottage just south o’ ‘ere.”

  “A witch you say?” Stone shifted his weight to one foot as he held back the urge to roll his eyes in disbelief.

  “Oh aye, oh aye. We saw her castin’ spells and whatnot. Pure witchcraft it was, sir. Snuck up on her while she were asleep.”

  “Mighty proud of yourself, aren’t you Captain Nichols?” The Commander shook his head. “Captured a defenseless woman while she sleeps. Pride of the king’s army, you are.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Nichols said with a smile.

  Commander Stone sighed and approached the woman, his eyes looking her up and down before his already earnest face turned into a frown. “And you couldn’t afford her any clothes, or at least offer her a moment to get dressed?” He looked to his men for an answer.

  “B-But sir she--!”

  “Instead you have her marching down a cold autumn’s morn with nothing but her nighties?”

  “Sir she--!”

  Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

  “At least offer the woman some bloody shoes if you’re gonna prod her along the road like a pack mule. Look at her feet, man!” Stone said, firmly gesturing to the woman’s bruised soles.

  “S-Sir!”

  Stone stepped forward to his men. They immediately cowered. “Witch she might be, I will not tolerate cruelty to prisoners before they’ve had their trial. They’re innocent until proven guilty. That’s the law. I couldn't care less about your judgement of witches, I will not allow my prisoners to be treated like a dog!”

  “S---”

  “You are dismissed, Nichols, all of you.”

  “Yes sir!” the guards said in unison.

  The Commander gestured to two of the guards standing watch by the keep door. “Gallagher, Barnes.”

  “Yes sir!” The two men replied, standing at attention.

  Stone motioned toward the half-naked woman. “Please escort the prisoner to her cell. A nice one. And give her some damned food and a blanket.”

  Hours had passed, and the midday sun bathed the prison in a harsh glow. The witch rested in her cell, a stark contrast to the squalor of the others. Her cell, with its cushioned bed, window, and desk, was a testament to the commander's unusual kindness. Yet, her bound hands and gagged mouth marred the comfort. A sudden clatter of footsteps echoed down the stone hallway. At least three men, she surmised. As the door creaked open, she sat up, bracing herself for another confrontation.

  “You’ve been the talk of my men, you know.” Stone said, standing with his arms behind his back. “Said you came willingly. Didn’t even give the slightest protest. That right?” She was unsure how to answer both the question and while with cloth in her mouth. She only offered him a pitiful stare.

  “Hmm…” The Commander kneeled down and reached for her head. “Come here. Let me get this off you.” He said, untying the gag around her mouth.

  “Sir!” One of the guards protested.

  “Easy, Barnes.” The Commander calmed. He locked eyes with the woman, his voice shifting to a more serious tone. “Now… you’ve given me some reason to trust you. I’m going to take this off. You’ll speak when spoken to. I promise if I hear any cryptic dark speech come from your lips my men will kill you right here and now. Understood?” The woman nodded. “Good.” The Commander removed her gag and set it on the bed. He beckoned one of his men over, who approached with a mug of water. “Here. Those gags will leave you awfully parched, I know.” She kindly took it with a thankful nod and drank it whole. “Now, my men said you are a witch. Is that right?”

  “Yes.” She answered.

  The Commander raised a brow, curious that she would so readily confess. “Yes, you’re a witch?”

  She paused before answering. “Yes, your men said it.”

  The Commander took a moment before a smile crept on his lips and he let out a hearty chuckle. He had a kind smile, she thought, it was unfortunate that his position required him to be so stern. “You’ve quite a heart to have a sense of humor in your position.” He calmed his laughter, returning to the manner at hand. “Are you a witch?”

  “No.” She said.

  “She could be lyin’!” argued one of the guards.

  “Why would she admit to it?” asked another.

  Commander Stone rolled his eyes at the guards. “My men, as rock-headed as they can be sometimes, don’t just make wild accusations. If you aren’t a witch… explain how my men saw you casting spells.”

  She shrugged. “No explanation, Commander. Your men saw what they did.”

  Stone narrowed his eyes. “So you were practicing witchcraft.”

  “Witchcraft? No.” She shook her head. “But it was magic.”

  “Magic but... not witchcraft.” Stone raised his brows in confusion. “You’ll forgive me. I’d find it difficult to separate the two.”

  “As did your men. But I assure you the magic I practiced was, by no means, similar to what many identify as ‘witchcraft’. There’s nothing malevolent about it.”

  “Regardless, magic is magic. You should know full well no sorcery of any kind is permitted in Edgemere… or any kingdom I can think of, for that matter.”

  The woman’s eyes looked down as she sighed. “I’m aware, Commander. I’m not here to deny my crime.”

  Commander Stone crossed his arms. “Hm… so what were you doing?”

  She looked toward the window. “Scrying the forest.”

  “Scrywhat now?”

  “I was---”

  Hurried footsteps rushed from down the hall as a winded soldier intruded on the conversation.

  “Sir!” The man said, clearly panicked.

  “Captain Levitt? What is it?” Stone asked.

  “Samson’s team.” The Captain pointed toward the exit. “They haven’t returned from their patrol last night. They’re half a day overdue. And we found something right damned macabre, sir. You’ll want to see this.” As the Captain’s words ended, the Commander watched as the woman’s breath hitched, her gaze shifting immediately to the window. Stone narrowed his eyes at her before standing up.

  “We’ll continue this later.” Stone said before walking out with the captain. The guards proceeded to gag her again and locked the cell door before leaving her alone.