After Roland fell asleep, Nightingale emerged from the mist, gently straightened his blanket, covered his exposed arm, and stood by the bed, watching him silently for a moment before quietly passing through the floorboards and returning to her room.
“You’re still awake?” Nightingale asked, slightly surprised to see Wendy still sitting on the bed, reading.
“Afraid you’ll do something wrong!” Wendy glared at her. “His Highness isn’t a child. Is it necessary to watch over him until he falls asleep?”
“His Highness has already sent people to other towns to spread the news of a witch organization here. What if witches, hearing the news, intend to harm His Highness? I'm just taking precautions,” Nightingale said, picking up a wet towel and casually wiping her face. Then, she undid her red belt, wrist leather armor, and cloak clasps, before finally removing her white outfit—a new design from His Royal Highness. The combination of a pure white hooded coat seemed incredibly conspicuous, but he thought it was perfect for an assassin.
Nightingale carefully hung up the clothes, smoothing out every wrinkle. Her shapely figure was wrapped in a light gauze, and there wasn't an ounce of excess fat on her firm abdomen and thighs.
“What kind of accident could happen?” Wendy asked, putting down the book in her hand. “The sisters live in the castle, and there are guards patrolling outside. Besides, didn't you put the stone under his pillow already? You never touched that kind of thing before.”
“Okay, I’m just trying to ensure his safety,” she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, pulling off her long boots, and lifting her slender legs together, causing her body to flip over next to Wendy.
“Did you even listen to what I said last time?” Wendy sighed. “Veronica, we are witches.”
“I know, Wendy,” Nightingale nodded. “We are ‘witches.’”
And His Royal Highness will marry a witch—he said it himself, and… he wasn't lying.
Of course, Nightingale wouldn't spread this information unless absolutely necessary. After silently apologizing to Wendy, she changed the subject. “Do you have any impressions of the church?”
“Why are you suddenly asking this?” Wendy asked, startled.
“When Roland was at the Fortress Castle, the High Priest of the church came to visit him and offered to support him in seizing the throne.”
“What did he say?” Her voice became tense. “Or did he ask you to leave before the conversation?”
Nightingale smiled and shook her head, speaking softly, “He only told me to be careful to avoid the range of the other party's God's Stone of Retribution. And His Highness himself didn't wear that thing temporarily. Wendy, His Highness didn't accept the church's invitation. He refused them.”
The latter breathed a sigh of relief, then looked somewhat melancholy. “It's a pity that our help to His Highness is so limited, unlike the church, whose influence covers the entire continent. If Roland had agreed to them, I'm afraid he would have ascended to the throne soon…”
“Who knows? His Highness said the High Priest was full of lies and couldn't be trusted at all,” Nightingale paused. “But there's something I'm concerned about.” She recounted the matter of the red and black pills. “In the mist, the pills have the same color as the God's Stone of Retribution, which is unbelievable. The sisters have all seen what happens to those who swallow the God's Stone of Retribution. It's no different from suicide. The High Priest said it was a medicine researched by the Sanctum's Divine Prayer Chamber. Have you ever heard of this organization when you were at the monastery?”
When the Mutual Aid Society left Silverlight City, Hakkara led Nightingale, Chase Wind, and Stone Maiden in setting a trap to capture the thugs who followed them for the bounty and retaliated against them—one method was to force them to swallow the God's Stone of Retribution they were wearing. Thugs who swallowed the God's Stone of Retribution would die quickly, their entire bodies shrinking up as if dehydrated, like dried fish that had been exposed to the sun.
“I don't know,” Wendy said, closing her eyes slowly. “Since I can remember, I've lived in the monastery of the Old Holy City. It's surrounded by high walls, and you can't see any scenery other than the sky. The entire area of activity is within the courtyard. The Mother Superior taught me how to read and recognize pictures. I still remember her name, Falian. One of the books she gave us was specifically about the Old Holy City. The city has churches, monasteries, museums, memorial halls, and a heroes' wall, but I've never heard of a Divine Prayer Chamber. I lived in the monastery for over ten years, until that accident happened…”
Nightingale had heard Wendy mention before that the monastery had been attacked by witches, and many people had died in that accident. And she had also taken advantage of the chaos to escape from the monastery by chance. “Although I don't know which witch had the courage to challenge the church alone, she at least saved you.”
“No, Veronica, the witch came from the church,” Wendy shook her head. “She was a member of the monastery, just like me.”
“What… do you mean?”
“The girls living in the monastery can basically be divided into three categories: one is like me, who has been here since childhood and doesn't know their origins; one is a vagrant or orphan, who is adopted by churches in various places and sent here; and the other is sold to the church by their parents. The managers separate everyone according to age and place them in different dormitories, and the learning content is also different. The youngest learn to read, those from ten to fourteen learn hymns, and those over fourteen learn etiquette. So the Mother Superior also calls us the Literacy Class, the older ones are called the Choir and the Etiquette Class. Once the girls in the Etiquette Class reach adulthood, they will be sent away from the monastery.”
This was the first time she had heard the other party talk about these things—Wendy had never talked in detail about her experiences in the monastery before.
“For the first few years, I often heard screams from the girls at night—they all came from the Choir and the Etiquette Class. I didn't quite understand what was going on. It wasn't until I was promoted to the Choir that I discovered that adults from the church would visit the dormitory at night and drag a few people away from the beds, and they wouldn't be sent back until dawn. Sometimes… not all of them would be sent back.”
Nightingale bit her lip tightly. Of course, she knew what Wendy was talking about.
“This kind of thing would happen once or twice a month. When it was frequent, it would happen almost every two days. Later, I was chosen. Falian dragged me out of the room and whispered in my ear to just endure it. She dragged me to a house in the corner of the courtyard that was half-hidden underground. The house was brightly lit, and a girl from the Etiquette Class was shackled to the wall. There were four or five people…” Her voice trembled slightly. “When they approached me, the girl suddenly broke free from her shackles and grabbed the neck of the person closest to her, killing him as if twisting a chicken's neck.”
“She… awakened?”
“I don't know,” Wendy shook her head. “Although those people took off their clothes, they were still wearing the God's Stone of Retribution. She killed them one by one. One of them had her limbs torn off alive, and before she died, she seemed to be saying… Transcendent. The adults' screams alarmed the guards and Falian guarding outside the house. They opened the iron gate and rushed in, and were frightened by the scene in front of them, and the girl rushed directly towards them.”
“Transcendent… does that refer to a witch?” Nightingale asked. “The guards weren't her match either?”
“The difference was too great. I later learned that those guards were the Judgment Army. One of them blew a whistle, and the other held a sword to meet her. By the time the first whistle ended, the Judgment Army blocking in front had already had her chest pierced with her hand. The church's standard armor was like paper in front of her.”