She Is Not a Witch

Melu, who had fainted in the cabinet in the Helis family’s main building, was finally found by the guards. By then, the cannon fire outside the city had ceased, and both sides within the city were gradually withdrawing to their respective headquarters.

In the distant sky, a hint of white began to appear, gradually changing to light blue. Occasionally, birds flew in from the cliffs and forests outside the city, their chirping sometimes audible.

Hopland’s streets were in ruins, littered with wood splinters, debris, bloodstains, broken gun barrels, and shattered sword hilts. Some braziers still contained smoldering embers, burning quietly, but no one was left to tend them.

A few logistics personnel began dragging away the dead bodies, both sides silently removing their own people without a word.

After the intense night battle, as nerves relaxed, a wave of exhaustion set in. Walking through the open spaces in the association, one could see many people leaning against debris or in corners, falling asleep instantly, their snores rising and falling.

Large iron pots were set up, with fires burning underneath. People fanned the flames, directing the thick smoke away, then poured in clear water and cooked food—meat and vegetables. Another pot nearby cooked wheat porridge, with attendants constantly stirring to prevent it from sticking to the bottom. The aroma of food mingled with the woodsmoke, spreading across the plaza. After a night of activity, everyone’s appetite was particularly keen.

As the commotion outside gradually subsided, figures slowly began to appear on the streets, but Hopland’s morning was unusually quiet. Even when acquaintances met on the road, they merely nodded, not daring to speak loudly, fearing to disturb this rare tranquility.

The streets were covered in scorch marks and scattered debris. Many shops remained closed, with only a few inns and restaurants open, showing signs of life. It was hard to imagine that just before nightfall yesterday, this had been a bustling festival city, prosperous, with tourists and residents alike anticipating a joyous celebration.

But in just one night, everything had changed. On the cold streets, some people would never return. Passing by some houses, one could even hear faint sounds of sobbing.

At the Helis family compound, Melu crouched before a white cloth, tears slowly rolling down her cheeks, dripping onto the ground and dampening the dust. Beneath the cloth lay a body, its face covered and indistinct.

Melu knew that lying there was the head maid who had cared for her since childhood. If not for this mother-like figure sacrificing herself to protect her, Melu might well be lying under that white cloth herself.

Gerald stood behind Melu, looking at his cousin. He wanted to comfort her but felt his position was inappropriate and didn’t know what to say, so he could only sigh and stand quietly.

On the plaza where they stood, as far as the eye could see, was a sea of white, each cloth covering a cold body. The Helis family had lost many lives in this battle, as had the other families.

Loranhil walked through the plaza in the association. Many people greeted her respectfully. Thanks to the potions she had prepared earlier, although many in the Carithes Merchant Association were seriously injured, most who weren’t killed instantly were saved. Being on the defensive and able to treat the wounded nearby had also helped.

Even so, she felt somewhat guilty. If only she could have advanced earlier, she could have prevented so many casualties. But who could have predicted this? The Tisphone family had acted on a whim, suddenly striking. To take on the guilt of these killings for not being able to save these lives was, in a way, a form of moral self-entrapment.

As she entered the association’s council hall, all of Carithes’ current high-level managers, ship captains, and guard captains had already gathered.

After hearing the casualty report, Loranhil’s mood grew heavy. In her previous life, she had lived in a stable and secure society, in a country that could be called the safest in the world. The loss of even one or two lives would have garnered societal attention, but in this world, it seemed to be just an ordinary number.

Some of the managers below were still praising the alchemical potions provided by the family head, as if such a number of casualties was something remarkable.

But she couldn’t be happy about it. Perhaps it was the difference in values between the two worlds. The world of Ival, like the ancient times of old, still had most people struggling at the subsistence level. Hunger, disease, injury, natural disasters, and magical beast attacks all led to death. Even a thousand years ago, when the Angel Sequence Church was established across the continent, it had only managed to raise the average life expectancy to between 40-50 years, and that was after excluding children who died before their first birthday.

Newborns had it even worse, with one in three dying in infancy. No wonder the Helis family was so extensive, while the main family line had only two in this generation, and the Anemis family had only one. It was said that Fenrai once had an older brother, but he passed away at the age of 5, which explained why Noys so doted on Fenrai.

“Lady Lacey, a messenger outside reports that Tisphone is inviting you and the heads of other major merchant associations for peace talks,” an attendant came in to report. The people in the hall listened and quietly awaited Lacey’s instructions.

“I understand. However, set the peace talks for three days from now. We at Carithes need to settle our wounded and handle other matters now.”

“Yes, young miss.” Two managers followed the attendant out to speak with the messenger outside.

After the messenger left, Loranhil seemed to remember something and asked, “What about the cargo on the fleet? Has it been unloaded?”

The ship captains and fleet leaders below were a bit surprised by this sudden concern but still answered, “We don’t have enough manpower yet, so no.”

“Mm, let everyone rest well for now. We’ll send people to unload the cargo in the afternoon.”

Loranhil blinked her blue eyes, looking at the progress bar on the system gradually reaching full, making a decision in her heart. A faint light began to flow in her pupils.

As dusk approached, a caravan of several hundred people slowly approached the hills outside Hopland. Some wagons were fully loaded with various goods, while others were ornately decorated, with vague figures visible inside.

Looking at the city full of ruins and debris from the hillside, the lead riders were very surprised. They quickly reported to the chief envoy in the carriage. Several riders began to ride towards the city to scout the situation, while the rest waited quietly in place.

As the sun set, its last rays illuminated the carriages, which bore emblems of olives and seashells.