Ever since I woke up, I was in a light mood. Last night was intense and successful. I brought my hand to my nose, inhaling the scent, and could still feel the perfume of my wife. It took three rounds until she was exhausted, and we had to stop, as I had commitments to fulfill. I looked around the office with a grumpy expression. There were tasks to be done, and last night's leisure was a direct contrast to the day's duty.
The memory of the tight entry and the expansion under the pressure of my member caused an almost immediate physical reaction. A tension formed in my body, but the full awakening of the erection was still dependent on magic.
The sound of the door opening snapped me out of my thoughts.
Gideon, already impatient, entered the room with long strides. "My lord, forgive my haste, but yesterday's execution was postponed. Why?" he questioned me, his voice serious and direct.
"One day more or one day less, what difference does it make?" I replied, the sound of my voice filling the silent space. I clapped my hands once, a dry, authoritative sound that made one of the maids move quickly. "Bring breakfast. Sit down, Gideon."
Based on my memories as the old Arthur, the Commander of the Knights and the chief butler were loyal to my father. The Knight was direct, confronting me openly, even in front of others. The chief butler, on the other hand, was more cautious and preferred to discuss matters in private.
"But delaying a single day opens the door for other witches to appear! This is not one of my hobbies. We are living in a moment of instability, my baron!" Gideon warned, the urgency in his tone evident.
The door to the room opened again, revealing the imposing figure of the knight Strefan. His armor emitted a slight metallic clang with each step, and his eyes fixed on me conveyed an unwavering seriousness.
"Gideon is right, my baron," he said, his voice grave and direct. "The delay in the execution only encourages the devil and his minions. The people clamor for justice and security, and our indecision is seen as weakness. In the past, we have spared witches for convenience, and the result was never good."
"Why would you say that?" I asked, frowning. I tilted my head, studying Strefan and Gideon. "I thought you could discern facts from beliefs."
Gideon seemed confused. He scratched his cheek. "What belief?"
"The one that a witch is evil and a messenger of the devil," I replied calmly, crossing my hands on my lap. "Isn't that what the Church teaches? They won't intervene here. In fact, their propaganda says that witches are bad and, although we have decided not to actively participate in the hunt, all the people in this territory believe in these shameless superstitions spread by the Church."
Gideon was shocked, his eyes widening slightly. Strefan, on the other hand, did not waver. He seemed to be measuring each of my words, his posture tense.
The chief butler hesitated for a moment, wondering if I was mocking him. "My lord, we can discuss this matter later. I know you don't like the Church, but this search for conflict is counterproductive."
I pursed my lips. It seemed that undoing the superstition about witches would not be a quick thing, so I decided to drop the subject for now.
When my breakfast of toast, fried eggs, and milk arrived, the smell of toasted bread and frying fat spread through the air. I took the silver tray, preparing two plates and offering one to the chief butler.
"You haven't eaten anything yet, right?" I asked before starting to eat. The maid had said that Gideon arrived at dawn and asked to see me immediately. I planned to imitate the old baron's way of life, but I also wanted to change people's perception of me, little by little.
The chief butler would be the first target of this plan. I thought: If I make my men feel valued, they will be more motivated to work for me.
Taking the initiative has always been the most efficient way to win, hasn't it?
Gideon took the glass of milk, but did not drink it, his hand trembling slightly from anxiety. He said, in a hurry: "My lord, there is a more immediate problem. The guards reported that three days ago they found a witch camp in the western forest. They left in a hurry and didn't clean everything, so a guard found this."
He took a coin from his pocket and placed it in front of me. It was not a common coin of the kingdom. According to the memories of the old Arthur, I had never seen anything like it. It was not made of metal.
Upon picking it up, I was surprised by the heat. The coin was hot, at least forty degrees Celsius, a heat that Gideon could not have generated.
"What is this?" I asked.
"I thought it was just a dirty witch trinket, but it is more serious," Gideon paused to wipe his forehead, sweat forming. "The engraved pattern is known as The Son of Perdition, it is used for sacrificial rituals."
I rubbed the irregular surface of the coin, imagining it was ceramic. In the center, there was a 'goat skull' shaped pattern of three triangles with an eye in the middle. The lines were rough, as if they had been hand polished.
"Did the Viscount, my father, order this?" I asked, feeling a pang of disapproval. Gideon became visibly uncomfortable.
"It was not a direct order from the Lord Viscount," he said, his voice lower and more cautious. "Hunting and burning witches is considered a civic right and duty of all citizens to protect the kingdom and themselves."
Based on my memories, I had no information about the term "The Son of Perdition".
Gideon continued, knowing that I did not know about the subject: "My lord, it is understandable that you find their abilities exaggerated by never having seen a real witch. They can be wounded and are no more difficult to kill than us, but this only applies to those who do not resist. When they receive the power of the devil, their life shortens, but they gain a terrible strength. Ordinary people are no match for them, and an adult witch can be expensive for an army to take down. Their desires are almost impossible to suppress, leading them to become servants of the devil."
The Church, therefore, proclaimed the Holy Inquisition: if a woman has a chance of being a witch, she must be arrested and executed immediately. My father would also pressure me to execute any probable witch, and these measures were effective. Incidents with witches decreased a lot compared to a hundred years ago.
The problem is that the gate to hell is just a rumor from an old book of that time and I did not believe in such nonsense.
O Medo das Bruxas
"Exactly, my lord," Gideon affirmed, visibly irritated. "The death of the prisoner would already be a problem, but the fact that she is still alive is even worse. If these witches are audacious enough to kidnap babies in the hope that they will become allies, imagine what they would not do for someone who has already become a servant of the devil. Considering their recklessness, an attempted rescue would not be surprising."
I felt confused. There was something strange about the whole situation. Why were the chief butler and the Leader of the Guard, Strefan, so terrified of witches?
The condemned woman was a witch, right? So thin that the wind seemed capable of knocking her over. If she had such a terrible power, why would she simply wait for her execution? The church preaches that witches are the devil incarnate, and that not even the army is safe from them. But this "demon" was captured by civilians, tortured and tied up, without showing any trace of her supposed terrible power.
"How was she captured?" I asked.
"I heard that, when the sawmill caught fire, she exposed herself as a witch to escape and ended up being detained by the furious residents," replied Gideon.
Why do I get the impression that this happened the day before I recovered my memories from my past life?
"How did she expose herself?" I asked aloud.
"I... I'm not sure," the chief butler shook his head. "The situation was chaotic, but it may be that someone saw her practicing witchcraft."
I frowned. "Did you not investigate thoroughly?"
"My lord, the priority was to resume the sawmill's operation," the chief butler protested. "The revenue from there is responsible for half of the city's production, and the guard confirmed that a person was killed on site by witchcraft."
"What kind of witchcraft?" I asked, interested.
"The head and a part of the body were scattered on the ground, as if they had been frozen. The body looked like a piece of sculpted ice that shattered on touch," he said with disgust. "My lord, you can consider yourself lucky for not having seen such a scene."
I began to touch the silver fork, thoughtful. History taught me that most victims of the Inquisition were innocent. They were used by the church to maintain control, or as a way for the ignorant inhabitants to vent their anger. Of course, some of the accused attracted their own disgrace, such as those who wore strange clothes and mixed strange ingredients, claiming to predict the future.
My hand stopped. I turned to Strefan and asked: "What is the difference between a witch and a mage?"
Strefan hesitated and replied carefully: "A mage uses pure mana from the environment. A witch's power, however, is of profane origin. It may have come from her parents, who got involved with demons, or she may have sold her own soul for it. The power of witches is considered profane, and comparing it to a mage's magic would be seen as heresy."
The power that Strefan described was based on the Church's doctrine. He spoke of pure mana, but what exactly was that? And my own power, that of a summoner, where did it come from? My ability to summon things out of nothing did not fit any of the definitions he gave me.
I reflected on the information for a moment. According to Strefan, there were at least two types of power in the world: conventional magic, which he rejected, and the so-called "profane magic" used by witches.
That led me to a question: how does my magic work?
After recovering the memories from my past life, my mana changed. It no longer followed the basic principles of this world. It behaved differently—ignoring established magical laws, bypassing restrictions, and producing effects that shouldn't be possible.
It wasn't classified as witchcraft, nor did it match the known systems of magic.
It was something else entirely.
A type of power that originated from a different reality, maybe?