After Gerreth's death, I lingered in the manor with Natalia. Her presence was steadying, yet I felt the whispers gathering outside our walls like storm clouds. Oswin entered my study one evening, his face tight.
"Rumors," he said simply. "Scarechest's last words before his execution spread word of the witch."
I set down my cup. So it had begun. I could not hide Natalia forever if I wanted to use her power to its fullest. Already the farmers slowed their ploughs, the miners hesitated at the pits. Even the new phytomining method – magical plants drawing ore from stone – had stalled under their doubt.
I rose. "Gather the townsfolk at the circle," I told Oswin. "All of them."
While he ran to obey, I thought of all the speeches I had given to hold this fragile settlement together. Speeches to sway, to calm, to bind them to me. And then the thought struck me – this is what the Church does for the King. If they can command faith, why can't I?
The circle was crowded by the time I arrived. Faces turned, whispers rose like a tide. "Lord Leonard…" "The witch…" "Is it true…"
I ignored them and mounted the stone steps at the center. My voice cut the murmur.
"People of Orshek," I said, letting the sound carry, "hear me."
Silence fell.
"I have spoken with the Divine Voice. It speaks through me. It has told me the truth of witches – that though they have been feared, those who come under my Voice can be made good, can serve as vessels of the Divine Apothecary. I am not merely your lord. I am His avatar, the manifestation of the Divine Voice among you. Follow me, and you will have His gifts: fast-growing crops, protection from beasts, safety from bandits, and warmth through winter."
A ripple of confusion ran through them. Doubt flickered in their eyes. I read it easily and struck again.
"Tell me," I called, "did the Church feed you when the fields failed? Did they bring you shelter? Protection? How many lives have been lost to suffering every year?"
No one answered at first. Then a voice muttered, "No…" Another shouted, "Never!" Soon the crowd began to murmur assent, anger twisting their doubt. I lifted my hands.
"Then trust the one who stands among you, not the ones who hide behind marble walls. Work for me, and it is prayer. Obey me, and you obey the Divine Voice."
A cheer rose – uncertain at first, then swelling until the circle shook with it. They were mine again. If one counters faith with logic, one loses; but faith against faith – that wins.
Later, in the manor's hall, Oswin leaned close. "A risky move, my lord," he murmured. "If news of a new faith spreads, the Church will not sit quietly."
I shrugged, though inside I felt the weight of it. With Gerreth gone, I finally held the town completely. And now, with the people bound to me as a holy figure, I could use Natalia as I wished. Yet the Church remained a shadow over my shoulder.
A messenger entered, bowing. "From Lady Lyra Quinn, my lord. She requests a meeting."
"Invite her to lunch," I said.
At noon the hall was bright with chatter and the clatter of dishes. Lyra Quinn sat across from me, a composed smile on her lips. Nothing unusual passed between us until I asked, lightly, "How do you find our bows?"
"They exceed my expectations," she said. "Your craftsmen do fine work."
After the meal, we walked together to the armory. I explained the production schedule – packing and shipment within three or four days. She nodded approval. But then her gaze sharpened.
"That speech you gave," she said quietly. "Was it true?"
I hesitated. If she carried tales to the Church, or sought to blackmail me, she could destroy everything. Before I could answer, she spoke again.
"I know it was a lie," she said. "You made it to protect Natalia. I saw her at the manor during lunch – how carefully you keep a witch under your roof."
I froze. She had seen through everything so quickly. I must tread carefully. She wanted something, surely.
"If I countered their faith with logic, I would lose.Only faith can drown faith — and so I forged my own." I said .
But Lyra only smiled faintly. "I'll keep this to myself."
I studied her. Why? Why keep such useful knowledge secret without gain?
She beckoned, and another figure stepped forward – a slim girl of eighteen with sharp features, eyes wary.
"This is my younger sister, Aveline Quinn," Lyra said. "She is a witch."
Shock rippled through me. "What…"
"I found fourteen witches months ago in a shelter at the port," Lyra continued. "I took them in, kept them safe. I am from the Free Cities of Atford; I don't believe the Church's lies. But I cannot protect them all." Her voice softened. "I kept Aveline safe but other girls, witches, who fled a dungeon where nobles tortured them like animals, raped them. They're frightened. They may not believe you because you are also a noble. But I believe you can keep them safe."
For a long moment I stared at her, then at the girl. Natalia's face flickered in my mind – the same hunted look once, before she came under my roof. I nodded slowly.
"I will keep them safe," I said at last. "All of them. As many witches as I can."
Something eased in Lyra's eyes. Mutual trust, fragile but real, settled between us. I turned to Aveline.
"You have my word," I told her. "Under my protection, no one will harm you."
Her expression softened, the faintest spark of hope appearing. And for the first time since Gerreth's death, I felt something other than calculation stir in me.