She Is Not a Witch

The heavy rain continued in the mountains. With their leader fallen, the black riders’ morale plummeted. The remaining cavalry turned their horses, preparing to charge again, but the moment had passed.

As several guard captains shouted urgently in the rain, the regrouped guards closed their lines once more. Glinting spears were arrayed behind a wall of shields, forming an impenetrable iron fortress that steadily constricted around the encircled riders.

Deprived of maneuvering space, the black riders could no longer build up speed. Most were unseated by long spears, while a few rolled down the mountainside into deep ravines. The battle slowly drew to a close, the sounds of combat gradually fading.

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Inside the oversized tent in the camp, a mixture of wood and oil burned in the fire basin, emitting a strong smell of tar. Loranhil sat at the head, flanked by over ten fully armed sword-wielding guards.

She had changed into a loose white gown, her arm wrapped in bandages. Her towel-dried hair was still damp, draped over her chest as she gazed intently at the bound black rider brought before her.

Two strong guards forced the rider to his knees. His black and red mask had been torn off, revealing a face with black hair and blue eyes.

“He still won’t talk?” Loranhil’s cool voice came from her seat.

“No, young miss. We’ve searched them thoroughly but found no other identifying marks,” a guard replied respectfully.

The fierce and perilous cavalry clash earlier had left the guards in awe of Loranhil’s courage and valor. Before, they had seen her as merely a kind-hearted, gentle young lady, albeit one of unparalleled beauty.

Now, she was not only their sworn leader but a brave commander worthy of following and entrusting their lives to. The respect and admiration rising from their hearts was something they had never anticipated before.

Who would have believed, without seeing it with their own eyes, that the seemingly delicate and beautiful young miss of the merchant association possessed such courage and resolve, beheading the enemy leader with one stroke in the midst of a deadly lance charge?

“Is that so.” Loranhil paused briefly before speaking again.

“Lift his head.”

A guard grabbed the black rider’s hair, forcing his deep blue eyes to face the young lady before him.

The rider gazed at the beautiful young miss, disbelief evident in his eyes. Her striking golden hair and the bandage on her arm left no doubt – it was she who had slain their leader with a single sword stroke.

They had thought their target was merely a fragile bird, but instead found a divine winged creature that could rend the fierce winds. Shock and incredulity played across his face.

Loranhil ceased questioning the black rider directly and began to analyze aloud.

“You’re more like professional soldiers than assassins. No ordinary force or organization could have trained you.”

“Our Carithes Merchant Association travels between Western Wind and Vegar. Our enemies and rivals can only come from these two places.”

“The Western Wind nobility has gradually decayed over the years. Minor noble families couldn’t afford to maintain a force like yours, and I’ve never heard of any major noble family’s private army resembling you.” Loranhil paused briefly.

“That leaves only the merchant families of Vegar as possibilities.”

“The Vegar Commercial Alliance is uniformly managed by industry associations, with a decision-making council of 26 high-level representatives, each representing a major Vegar merchant association.”

“Excluding us Carithes, among the remaining representatives, only six are related to maritime shipping, river transport, or water.”

“Further eliminating two associations we’ve never had dealings with, that leaves only…”

Loranhil stared into the rider’s eyes and began reciting names.

“Agdelin”

“Gigior”

“Dayas”

“Tisphone”

When she reached “Tisphone,” the rider’s pupils finally reacted.

So it’s Tisphone? Loranhil made her guess internally. She dismissed the rider, ordering him to be confined separately. She then had several other riders brought in individually, employing the same technique but varying her approach and order. After a few rounds, she was certain that these black riders were indeed from the Tisphone family.

The Tisphone family primarily dealt in weapons sales, whale oil, bow materials, and dyes. They had their own fleet and were rumored to have once engaged in piracy and even accepted assassination contracts. They were considered one of the more radical large merchant associations.

After dismissing the other guards, Loranhil returned to her own tent. Rubbing her tense face, the young woman hugged her pillow and rolled around on the bedding a few times.

She was exhausted, not only from maintaining an authoritative appearance to boost everyone’s confidence but also from the mental strain of deducing the enemy’s identity and motives. Now, she just wanted to sleep well and think of nothing.

Sitting up on the soft bedding, Loranhil opened the small cabinet beside her and took out a bottle of chilled fruit yogurt. She took a few small sips before lying down with her pillow and falling into a deep sleep. She hadn’t rested properly before due to constant vigilance.

Outside the tent, the rain gradually tapered off, and a faint white light appeared on the horizon as a new day quietly began.

When Loranhil awoke again, it was already noon. The clouds had dispersed, and the scorching sun shone brightly, casting intense white light across the land.

Emerging from the shaded tent, the young woman shielded her eyes against the glaring sunlight. The camp had been tidied up, the chaotic battlefield cleaned. The weapons, bodies, and damaged goods previously scattered in the rain had all been properly dealt with.

Thanks to the supernatural potions Loranhil had prepared in advance, most of the merchant association’s guards had survived. Broken bones were set with splints, wounds were bandaged, and the rest would heal slowly over time.

Butler Ceres, seeing Loranhil emerge, hurried over to inquire about her injuries. He had been handling various post-battle matters and was only now able to see the courageous young miss.

“I’m fine. How are the others? Have all their wounds been properly cleaned? They could get infected otherwise.”

Loranhil insisted she was alright. In truth, her wounds had already healed. If one were to remove the bandages, they wouldn’t find a trace of injury on her fair skin. However, such rapid healing was too astonishing, and she didn’t want to draw attention to it. So she maintained the appearance of being bandaged.

“Miss Lacy, the others have all been taken care of. Please don’t worry, they’re all battle-hardened veterans familiar with such situations. There shouldn’t be any major issues. Even the prisoners have been treated and bandaged as you instructed.”

“Good. These prisoners will be very useful in the future.”

The young woman nodded with satisfaction. The butterfly hairpin in her golden hair reflected beautifully in the sunlight. She had now reverted to her usual gentle and lovable demeanor.