The morning air was crisp, my breath turning white as I lifted the steaming cup of tea to my lips. A soft sweetness lingered on my tongue, different from the tea I remembered back on Earth.
"Tea was discovered in 2737 BCE by Emperor Shen Nong," I murmured to myself. "Funny how it followed me here, but sweeter… maybe it's the cold climate. Or maybe I'm just enjoying simple pleasures too much."
The door creaked open, and Oswin strode in, his cloak still dusted with dew.
"My lord," he bowed slightly, "the traders have arrived in town."
I raised a brow. "Traders? Already?"
"Yes," he nodded. "Every mid-month they come—to buy coal, lime, and iron. In return, they sell seeds, food, tools, utensils… things our people need. But as per your orders, this month we mined only a little iron and focused instead on wood, stone, lime, clay, and coal. The iron is… cheap here, worth less than firewood."
I smiled faintly. "Then let's see how they react to something different."
The temporary market was already bustling when we arrived. Stalls lined the circle, canvas awnings flapping in the cold wind. Oswin and Elias flanked me, with two knights close behind. The air buzzed with the voices of traders, though when they saw me, whispers shifted like smoke.
"That's him?" one muttered.
"The useless brat the capital threw here…"
"They say he killed his mother at birth."
"Disrupting trade by cutting iron… fools like him will starve the town."
I walked on, their words falling off me like snow. Let them whisper. A man who cares for gossip will never rise above it.
My eyes fell on a stall stacked with grain sacks and baskets of dried fruits. I stepped closer.
"You there," I called to the merchant. "All food trade in this town falls under the lord's authority. No one sells without my word."
The merchant blinked, taken aback. "M-My lord, I bring food for fair exchange. The villagers—"
"The villagers," I cut him off, "will not be exploited by middlemen. If you want to sell food here, you sell it to me first."
The man's face reddened. "With respect, my lord, this is unfair! We travel far with risk of bandits, storms, and beasts. If you block us, what profit remains? Should we starve so your coffers grow?"
Another trader joined in. "Iron is what we came for, not clay and wood! You deny us iron and now want to bind food? Do you mean to ruin the market?"
Elias leaned toward me. "My lord, they are pushing hard…"
I lifted my hand. "Enough. I'll take half your stock."
The food merchant froze. "Half…? You would buy half outright?"
"Yes," I said. "And farming tools as well. We'll need them."
Coins exchanged hands, the man's eyes brightening despite himself. The other traders murmured in surprise. Then I pulled a small pouch from my cloak and tossed it onto the counter.
"What's this?" the merchant asked.
"Seeds," I replied with a calm smile. "Hybrid seeds. They resist disease, and their yield is higher. Consider it a gift."
The crowd stiffened.
"Hybrid…?"
"More yield?"
"Why give it away?"
The merchant's hands trembled. "Why would you gift something so valuable?"
"Because I want to see if men like you can recognize value when it's in your hands," I said. "If you find them useful, return. I'll sell more."
Behind me, Oswin whispered, "Brilliant, my lord."
But the traders were already calculating. If the seeds truly worked, they could grow them themselves… and never rely on me.
They didn't know the truth—those seeds were touched by magic. They would grow fast and strong, but their offspring would be barren. Only I had the source.
A humble stall caught my eye—not filled with goods, but with books. Scrolls, old tomes, cracked bindings.
The seller bowed. "My lord, these aren't meant for here. Schools and large towns to the south are my buyers. But if they catch your eye…"
I sifted through them—manuals, histories, an atlas, even ballads. But one book froze my fingers: "On Witches and Their Damnation," stamped with the Church's seal.
"I'll take these," I said—farming, the atlas, and the one about witches.
Later, by the hearth, the fire crackling low, I opened it. The words spilled like venom.
"Witches possess unnatural magical power."
"Only one in a thousand girls may become one. Only girls can be witches. They awaken between the ages of ten and thirty."
"The stronger they grow, the longer they live."
"All witches are devils' whores and must be punished to cleanse their souls. God in His mercy makes them barren, unable to bear devils children—yet the Devil is a thief, a parasite of flesh, full of hunger and lust, hatred and envy, a herald of plague, disease, and death. Wherever his whores tread, they bring only blood, famine, and despair."
I clenched the book tighter. Not knowledge. Not truth. This was a weapon of thought, a blade sharpened to slit the throats of innocents.
"Yet, there exist 'God's Witches,' raised and trained by the Church from childhood."
Hypocrisy bled through every letter. They condemned the natural and exalted the controlled, twisting the same power into chains for their own use.
"Magic divides into branches:
Fire Witch 🔥
Water Witch 💧
Earth Witch 🟫
Air Witch 🌬️
Lightning Witch ⚡
Ice Witch ❄️
Dark Witch 🌑
Light Witch 🌟
Nature Witch 🍃
Beast Witch 🐾
Arcane Witch ✨
Blood Witch 🩸
yet further information is not mention..
Each word was another nail, hammered into the coffin of free thought. To read it was to feel the walls closing in, forcing belief, demanding obedience.
I let the book fall shut for a moment, staring into the fire. The flames hissed, spitting sparks like laughter at humanity's folly.
So this is how they keep power… by filling minds with fear and ash. By making monsters of the few who are different.
Natalia's face came to me then—her veins, her power, her sharp eyes that seemed too old for her age. She wasn't a monster. She was something the Church would burn alive to keep their lies intact.
I reopened the book, forcing myself to continue, though every word left a taste of iron on my tongue.
When I finally closed it, I whispered to the empty room:
"This is not truth. This is their weapon."