The village headman, Dinor, as he had finally introduced himself to Arellian after she had killed that brown, pooey monster, regarded her from a chair, while armed guards posted at the doors and against the walls clenched their weapons.

  She remained still with mouth open as the teeth cleaning system in her helmet nearly finished.

  The bell had crept up on her quicker than expected, which didn’t leave her any time to take care of such business before she had to rush to the council great house.

  She discretely spat out the minty water after the small, automated sonic brush retracted. Technically, she didn’t need the toothpaste, but she enjoyed the fresh taste and feeling it left.

  With that finished she gave her total focus to the headman.

  Interestingly, Dinor sat in a plain wood chair instead of in one of the fancier wood chairs on a raised platform.

  Three identical empty chairs behind the headman.

  She assumed that the pre-spires village council consisted of three people.

  Her own chair was roughly the same as Dinor’s.

  The poor thing groaned under the combined weight of her and her armor, so she let her armor’s artificial muscles take most of the strain.

  “I’ve spoken to my people and I extend Riverdel’s thanks for your tireless work today. We very rarely get time to rest.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “And your slaying of that foul creature… the stench… well, it would’ve been much worse, the killing and the cleanup, without whatever it was you did to it.”

  Once again she thanked her armor’s sealed system for she caught not one whiff.

  He let out a long breath.

  “We would’ve lost people and every loss brings us closer to our end.”

  Her raised brow was hidden by her helmet.

  “It’s become clear to me that we exist under your grace.”

  “Er…”

  What to say?

  “Um… the Witch of the Woods is magnanimous.”

  That was the correct word, right?

  She was tempted to call her grand auntie, since her grandfather was still unreachable, but she didn’t want to look like she didn’t know what she was doing.

  She could’ve checked the armor’s dictionary, but Dinor was looking at her expectantly.

  “That is to say, she is not interested in rule or control and such. Like, I’ve said many times today. The aid offered is freely given with only a few strings attached.”

  Dinor’s eyes narrowed.

  “Standard codes of conduct. Fairly straightforward. Those that seek the witch’s gifts will be expected to refrain from evil. You know, murder, rapes, slavery, um, cannibalism.”

  “Yes, of course, we don’t condone such things either. Never have. Riverdel believes in the ideal that we all benefit together.”

  “Yeah! See! The witch will have no problems helping you guys out!”

  “To that end, may I broach a sensitive subject? Or do you require your master’s presence?”

  “Master?”

  “Ser Bakunawa.”

  “It’s not really a master-servant relationship.” She frowned. “I’m a full witchknight. Squire is just a job title.”

  “Forgive me.” He bowed his head. “I’ve given insult.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’ve not given you the proper respect of your title, Dame Minokawa.”

  “Dame?”

  “I beg forgiveness once more. With your helmet… well, I believe you to be a woman from the shape of your armor and the sound of your voice, odd as it is. Unlike the usual way a great helm muffles one’s voice.”

  “Oh! That’s correct. And don’t worry about it. I, uh, forgive you.”

  “It’s just that we’ve not had one good experience with any witches. Black deeds in the dark of night. They drive foul bargains for your soul. They sup upon the fat of infants to gain power. They—”

  Oh come on!

  Arellian took offense on behalf of all witches and herself.

  “And your knights, hmmmmmm? Are they all paragons of virtue and goodness? None of them use their power to bring harm to the smallfolk? I’ve also listened today, Headman Dinor. There are none in Riverdel that have kind words for your Monarch and his Knights of Balomren Wood. And as for your witches… there’s a saying in my homeland. A witch is a witch whether they are a witch or a witch.”

  “I see?” Dinor nodded in the way that suggested he had not. “But, as to the rest, you speak truth.” He sighed. “The tithe… I can only see it becoming worse as he seeks to grasp everything he can. I knew him before he claimed the title and class. Balannar Strongarm. The Strongarms were a minor noble family raised to the ranks through Balannar’s grandmother’s actions in saving Lord Talam from an ambush from the Bonewood Bandits. I squired with Balannar in our long ago youth. He was a grasping, venal boy that became a grasping venal man. The fat and oil that bubbled to the surface of a stew when everyone else died to monsters or each other in the dark days.”

  “You’re a knight?”

  “No. Never. I was a scholar’s son. Commoner through and through. Balannar took offense to my equal standing as squires. He and his family spared no effort to see me tossed back where I belonged.”

  “I’m sorry. That’s not fair.”

  “Our society is everything but fair. It opened my young, naive eyes to the nobility and the knighthood. Not all are like Balannar, but most were. So, I found joy in following my parents into the scholar’s guild. And I regret nothing.”

  “Then, let us help you help yourselves! You know that Balannar won’t stop. He’ll take everything from your people until you have nothing left!”

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “I’m a headman, but not a headman. I’m just a scholar playing a role because there is no other. I’m old and tired. Rhinor is all I have left and I fear that I can no longer hide him from the choosing. What Balannar will do to my grandson— I’d sooner send the boy to his eternal sleep.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather send Balannar to his?”

  “That cur doesn’t deserve the Eternal Mother’s grace!” Dinor unclenched his fist with difficulty. “This is beyond me. I cannot, should not decide for my people. That would make me no different. To that end, I shall let my people decide for themselves. I intend to announce this after breakfast tomorrow morning. Will you relay this to Ser Bakunawa, Dame Minokawa?”

  “I will.”

  …

  The headman gave her an empty home near the southeastern corner of the raised village far from the homes the villagers used.

  She only stepped out of her armor to take care of business.

  The outhouse was close and it hadn’t been used in years, which meant it wasn’t gross, so that made her happy.

  She was not looking forward to pooping in the woods.

  It might’ve been okay for bears, but she was no bear.

  An ample supply of wet wipes saw to her continued comfort.

  She did have a magic gem to take care of it, but she wanted to save that for last.

  It was a morale thing.

  Better to save your best items for darker times.

  If all went well, she’d be back at Grand Auntie’s witch hut and its showers, toilets and bed before she ran out of hygiene stuff.

  She opened her helmet with a thought.

  The room was dark and musty.

  They had given her an oil lantern and had prepared a bed and blankets.

  Those wouldn’t be necessary.

  She wasn’t removing her armor.

  With the undersuit’s self-cleaning properties and the armor’s cleaning system she could wear both for weeks at a time before it became uncomfortable and even then it was mostly a psychological issue rather than a hygiene one.

  She eyed the clean cup and pitcher of one of the brewmaster’s sleepy teas on the small, rickety table against the wooden wall.

  Very hospitable.

  “Call: The Witch of the Woods.”

  “You have reached the Witch of the Woods. What fell tidings dost thou bring, brave Witchknight Minokawa?”

  The cringe ran up and down her entire body.

  Night-blessed Hecate! Olden people were sooo lame!

  “No one’s listening, Grand Auntie!” She rolled her eyes. “Even if they were trying I have countermeasures active.”

  Her grand auntie tsked.

  “Opsec, My young and obedient witchknight. One shan’t tempt the Fates for they are fickle mistresses. Mayhaps, there lurks amongst the humble people of Riverdel that is more than meets the eye. Dost thou assume that there cannot be a Skill or spell heretofore unknown to your magics?”

  “Ugh… can you at least talk like a normal person? The villagers all talk normal. It’s just you and Grandfather making it weird and lame.”

  Her grand auntie laughed.

  “Very well, my loyal and understanding witchknight. What may the mysterious Witch of the Woods do for you this evening?”

  “Well, I just finished talking with the village headman.”

  “Yeah, Mr. Dinor no last name. I’ve read your reports as you sent them today. Good work by the way. As for Mr. Dinor, everything you’ve sent lines up with Vamria’s scouting report. Pictures, vids, personality assessment. What did this talk entail?”

  “He said he’s going to leave it up to the individual villager if they want to brave your tests. Going to announce it after breakfast tomorrow. Um… did you have a chance to read my suggestions about the swamp?”

  “I did and I’ve already done it. Cleared out the strongest monsters and animals—”

  “Grand Auntie! Did you kill them all?”

  “Monsters? Yes. Animals? I moved them to the far side of the swamp behind my hut. Very far. I also added more robot monsters and animals to serve as challenging, but not lethal, mobs for my prospective heroes and heroines. Anyways, don’t worry too much about your new Riverdel friends. I’ll be keeping a close eye on their progress. It might be good for the Witch of the Woods to swoop in and save them at the last possible moment. The better to bind their souls to my service!”

  Her grand auntie cackled.

  “Six point five out of ten,” she said flatly.

  “Awww… that’s all? I’ve been working on my cackle for the last two months.”

  “As you oldens always say, one can always improve.”

  “Well, you’re the expert here. I will take your critique to heart and practice harder.” Her grand auntie cleared her throat. “Did they feed you dinner?”

  “Yes, Grand Auntie.”

  “You ate enough.”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Anything else to report.”

  “Grandfather still hasn’t returned and I haven’t been able to contact him.”

  “That’s to be expected. Last word I got from him was before he entered a spawn zone. Don’t worry. Just go to sleep. I’ll be up in case he needs someone to contact.”

  “Okay…”

  She was worried, but also not worried.

  “Good work today, Arelle! The Witch of the Woods approves and is keeping her all-seeing eyes on you… while you sleep.”

  “Thanks… I guess.”

  …

  Her grandfather interrupted breakfast by falling from the sky.

  By all the laws of physics he should’ve crashed through even the thick wooden floor on account of the combined weight of him and his armor, let alone the massive armored body on his back.

  “Behold! I, Bakunawa, have returned!”

  The stunned villagers goggled at him.

  “Grandfather!” she hissed over the comms. “You’re scaring them!”

  “What? Why?”

  “You’re covered in blood and guts! And what— who is that? Are they dead? What is that armor? I’m getting powerful magic readings! Like, really powerful!”

  “I was just about to explain.”

  And so he regaled them with the exploits of the previous day and night and early morning.

  Monsters killed, Cannibal bandits slain— he made no mention of spawn zones cleared— and the last, a dead person the size of four Earthian humans.

  “Yon ogre that lays at my feet was a Paladin of the Gut Infinite with designs upon your valley and you!” He thrust a blood-soaked finger at them, causing them to visibly recoil as if poked.

  Headman Dinor’s mouth worked without sound before he found his voice.

  “Ogre? Paladin? But paladins are holy knights. You killed—”

  “Thou shalt not fret, my good headman. For not all paladins quest in the service of good… at least from yon’ll perspectives. This Level 83 paladin came to your world to bring the word of the Gut Infinite and to convert you. He has already seeded traitorous agents within the highest reaches of yon monarchy. The cannibal bandits? They grew fearsome under his ever-hungry eye.”

  “What is this ‘Gut Infinite’?” Brewmaster said.

  “Belief made manifest. He spoke of it, ere I smote him upon the mountain side. It is simply thus… all eat, all are eaten,” her grandfather intoned. “Yeah, it was funking creepy,” he whispered over the comms. “Really evil stuff. In fact, I’m just realizing that this might be not be a good sight for you.”

  “What? No! It’s fine! I’m not a little girl anymore!” she shouted maturely.

  “I guess it’s too late now. Just… you’re forbidden from lifting up his faceplate.” Her grandfather gestured grandly at the dead ogre paladin. “For Riverdel! I grant thee this miscreant’s weapons, armor and the contents of yon bags of holding. After, the Witch of the Woods uses her arcane arts to ensure they shan’t harm thee, of course.” He lowered his voice again. “Already called it in. The witch said it’d be a good first test.”

  “What test?”

  “Who among you are brave enough to take this evil invader’s corpse to the witch’s abode?”

  Arellian turned her bird-dragon helmeted head to Headman Dinor.

  He took her encouragement to step forward.

  By the end of the hour a handful of brave people of Riverdel were off to the witch’s swamp armed with the gifts of weapons and armor, pulling a cart with an ogre paladin’s corpse.