Roland swallowed the last piece of fried egg and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "After saying so much, you're worried that the Witch Cooperation Association will hear she's not dead and come to rescue her?"
"Exactly, Your Highness," Barov emphasized. "They act in haste and should be on the road. If that witch had died, it would be fine, but now she's still alive! Those lunatics even steal babies; they probably won't let go of a fallen comrade."
Roland felt puzzled. He always felt like something was wrong. Why did the Minister Assistant and the Chief Knight react as if facing a great enemy when talking about witches?
The woman about to be hanged was a witch, right? So thin that she seemed like she would fall over with a gust of wind. If she possessed terrifying power, why would she stand there and let herself be slaughtered? No, she wouldn't even be captured. According to the Church, she was the incarnation of the devil. Apart from the Judgment Army, mortal armies would pay a heavy price in front of a witch. Yet this devil was caught by the residents of Border Town, tortured in every way, and sent to the gallows, and that terrifying power was nowhere to be seen.
"How was she captured?"
"I heard that during a cave-in at the North Slope mine, she exposed her identity to escape and was caught by angry villagers."
Roland thought for a moment, um, he remembered this, it happened the day before he transmigrated.
"How was she exposed?"
"This... I'm not quite sure," the Minister Assistant shook his head. "The situation was chaotic at the time. Someone must have seen her use witchcraft."
Roland frowned. "You didn't investigate this clearly?"
"Your Highness, restoring mine production is the priority," the Minister Assistant protested. "Border Town's financial revenue relies on this iron ore for half of it, and the prosecutor has confirmed that someone died from witchcraft at the scene."
"What kind of witchcraft?" Roland became interested.
"Like being melted, the head and most of the body were flattened on the ground, reminiscent of a burned-out black candle," the other party said with disgust. "Your Highness, you wouldn't want to see such a scene."
Roland played with the silver fork in his hand, lost in thought. Historically, most of the victims of witch hunts were innocent, used by the Church and ignorant people as tools for venting their anger, while a small part were those who courted death themselves. These people dressed themselves strangely, threw strange materials into pots all day long, and claimed to be able to predict the future and determine life and death.
And they did figure out some tricks, such as using flame reactions to claim they had obtained the power of the gods.
In the eyes of modern people, these were all chemical tricks, but at the time, it was easy to be misrepresented as an incredible phenomenon.
As for melting people, Roland immediately thought of chromic acid cleaning solution, but this stuff was troublesome to prepare and required the human body to be completely immersed when used, and the corpse-melting effect was far from that of a candle. As for other strong acids, they were even worse.
So how did this witch do it?
If she relied on alchemy, then she was a rare chemist in the territory, if not...
Roland thought of this and made up his mind.
"Take me to see her."
"Wait... wait, Your Highness, you're going to see a witch?" Barov stood up in a panic, knocking over the unfinished glass of milk.
"That's right, that's an order." Roland turned back and smiled at the Minister Assistant. He was now truly grateful for the unreasonable behavior of the Fourth Prince.
He suddenly paused as he walked to the door. "By the way, I've always wanted to ask, why hanging?"
"What?"
"Why hanging? Shouldn't witches be burned at the stake?"
Barov looked completely baffled. "Is that so? But she's not afraid of fire."
*******************
Border Town only had one dungeon; the barren land couldn't support too many prisoners. Most criminals faced trial within a few days of entering – either released or executed.
In addition to Barov, the Chief Knight, the Warden, the Jailer, and two guards followed the prince into the dungeon.
The dungeon had four floors, and the walls were all made of hard granite. Roland had never been to a place like this before. He noticed that the passages narrowed as he went down, and the number of cells also decreased. It was probably dug out a large inverted cone-shaped pit, and then piled up with stones layer by layer, he thought.
Such rough construction would naturally not have good drainage measures. The ground was damp and muddy sewage flowed, seeping down the stairs step by step.
The witch was locked in the deepest level of the dungeon. The stench in the air became stronger with each level down.
"Your Highness, what you are doing is too dangerous. Even if she is trapped by the God Punishment Lock, there is no guarantee of safety."
The speaker was Carter. Lannis. This Chief Knight came as soon as he knew the prince was going to visit the witch, and the persuasion didn't stop along the way. And the king's order was ineffective against him - he refused to accept any instruction that put the prince's life at risk, and it was impossible to make him leave.
He clearly had a cold and handsome male god face, but why was he so talkative? Roland really wanted to call someone to sew his mouth shut. "If you don't dare to face Evil, how can you have the courage to overcome Evil? I thought you understood this."
"Fighting Evil also requires acting according to your strength. Recklessness is not equal to courage."
"So, you mean that you can uphold justice when you encounter an enemy weaker than yourself, but you should turn a blind eye when you encounter one stronger than yourself?"
"No, Your Highness, what I mean is..."
"You were afraid of the witch breaking out of prison before, and now you're afraid of seeing a little girl. My Chief Knight is truly unique."
Although the knight was talkative, he was not good at arguing, so he naturally had no power to resist Roland, a master of verbal combat. Taking advantage of this effort, the group had already arrived at the bottom of the dungeon.
This place was much smaller than the upper floors, with only two cells in total.
The jailer lit the torch on the wall, the darkness receded, and Roland saw the witch curled up in the corner.
It was already late autumn, and the temperature in the dungeon was so low that people could see the white air they exhaled. He was wearing a fleece coat with a silk lining underneath, so naturally he didn't feel cold. But the other party only had a single garment, which couldn't completely cover her body, and her exposed arms and palms were frozen bloodless.
The sudden bright light made her turn her head, her eyes slightly closed. But soon, she opened her eyes again and looked straight over.
Those were pale blue eyes, as calm as a lake before a storm. There was no fear on her face, nor anger or hatred.
Roland had the illusion that he was not seeing a weak little girl, but a shadow devouring flames. For a moment, he felt that the light of the torches on the wall had dimmed a little.
She struggled to stand up against the wall, moving so slowly that she seemed to fall at any moment. But eventually she stood up completely, staggering from the corner to where the light could fully cover her.
This simple action made everyone gasp and step back, only the knight flashed in front of him.
"What's your name?" Roland patted the knight's shoulder, signaling him not to be so nervous.
"Anna," she replied.
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