Witch Bewitched (New)

Chapter 3

Royle shoved the tavernkeeper through the purgehouse entrance. Ervan lurched forward and, unable to catch his balance with his hands behind his back, fell flat on his face.

"Son of a bìtch!" he yowled. "I'll kill you. All of you sympathisers." He squirmed like a rat caught in a trap. "You purgers had one good thing and you lost it. What good are you if you don't execute witches? This world is going to shìt because of you!"

Royle shook his head as he walked by. An officer stood from his desk and saluted. The desks around him were empty, the others either having retired for the night or taking a break.

"Lock him up," Royle ordered. "We won't need to worry about the witch killer anymore."

"Yes sir."

"Oh, and call Lieutenant Torren to my office."

As Ervan's swearing faded into the basement, Royle made his way past a few messy desks and down the hall, where his office was located. Once inside, he paced the room in the small space between his desk and the couches, his thoughts on the girl. At the audacity of her to run away while he was preoccupied.

There were details he needed to run by her, testaments he needed to document. But most of all, he needed to confirm her identity. There had been magic clinging in the air, thick and uncontrolled. If the girl was who he thought she was, he would finally be able to put his plans into action.

A soft knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Royle composed himself, forcing himself to stop pacing and sit at his desk. "Come in."

Torren slipped inside, quietly shutting the door behind him. "You wanted to see me?"

Royle leaned forward, his hands clasped under his chin. "Lieutenant, do you know anyone who owns a black cat?"

"A black cat?"

"Yes. A girl. She was familiar with the ranking marks."

Torren snapped his fingers. "Oh, a black cat! Yes, I remember. Little fiend tripped me up in front of the commander."

"The commander?" Royle raised a brow. "You didn't displease him, I hope."

Torren cleared his throat in a sheepish sort of way. "I, er, in a sense." He muttered something about wearing belts before he directed the focus back to the cat. "There is someone I can think of..."

"Name?"

"Misa Carpenter. I don't see her around much. She tells me her father tries to keep her in the house, but she finds her way out from time to time."

The name was familiar. Royle stood, pushing his chair back. "Well, Lieutenant, do you know her address?"

"Yes sir. I escort her home when I have the time. It keeps her suitors away. Why? Is she in trouble?"

"Not in particular." Though Royle supposed her father would not be happy about her encounter with the witch killer. "Have you read the briefings I sent you?"

"About witches? Yes. You were looking for one."

"And I found her."

Torren opened his mouth, processed what Royle had said, and fell silent.

"Right then. Get a carriage ready. We need to pay the Carpenters a little visit."

The lieutenant finally found his voice. "Wait. Wait just a minute here. Are you saying Misa is a...a witch?"

"Was I not clear?"

"No. Impossible. She can't be a—" He paused, a sudden pensive expression settling over his face. "Oh." His eyes widened as if he'd figured something out. "O-ohh."

"She's an enchantress to be specific. If you want proof, all we need to do is find her. Go get the carriage."

Torren snapped back to attention. "Of course." He went for the door, then hesitated. "You're not planning on...arresting her are you?"

Royle shrugged. "We'll see." When he saw the concern in Torren's eyes, he sighed. "No. If she refuses to help, I'll leave her be."

The lieutenant visibly relaxed. While he went to get a carriage ready, Royle grabbed a file of documents hidden in his locked drawer. They had been prepared for this moment, though at the time Royle had thought he could use them immediately. No matter. They'd finally be in use once he had the girl playing her part. All the sneaking around and clandestine transactions had paid off.

Finally, it was all coming together.

Once they were safely stored away in a case, he made his way towards the new recruits' sleeping bay. It was the storage room beside it that he was heading for. Inside, he packed an extra uniform, cap, and boots in an old empty gear bag. He paused in the dark room, going over his mental checklist.

Get the girl, recruit her into the purgehouse. That should be easy enough. It's not uncommon for new recruits to join outside of application dates. Can't connect her to me. Too risky. Torren. Yes, Torren should do just fine.

Royle continued his train of thought as he locked the storage room and exited the purgehouse. Torren had the carriage stationed outside the gates.

"Ah, Captain!" he greeted. "I was just about to go get you." He noticed the bags Royle carried. "Are we staying somewhere for the night?"

Royle, mindful of the guards keeping watch at the gate, replied coolly, "A quick stop. I'll let you know once we have our guest on board. Hop to it, then." He entered the carriage, and they were on their way.

The roads were fairly empty in the night, and the carriage moved at a steady pace. It wasn't long before they finally came to a stop at their destination. Royle stepped out, leaving his luggage behind.

"Wait out here."

"Sure."

Royle assessed the building in front of him. There was a black iron gate, chained shut, and stone walls spreading out on either side like wings. Not too welcoming, Royle mused. It reminded him somewhat of a prison.

He searched for a groundskeeper, but the dark yard was empty. The house beyond remained eerily silent, though there was a flicker of a light in one of the windows. So, there must have been someone home. Now, how to enter?

"Who are you?" A strong voice cut through the air. Royle stepped away from the gate. The man who had spoken to him was stocky and slightly hunched over. His arms were built, suggesting an occupation of hard labour. A carpenter, Royle supposed. He had to have been the father. There was a woman beside him, slightly taller than the man and slender. Royle couldn't quite make out their features in the dim light of their lamp.

"Are you Mister Carpenter, perchance?" Royle tried.

"Yes, I am." Suspicion coated his voice. "Who are you? What are you doing in front of my property?"

"I've come to ask for your daughter."

The carpenter shook, and Royle could see his rage through the flickering orange light. "My daughter? Are you another one of her admirers?" He stalked forward, every step heavy with anger. "Absolutely not. Get out of here at once."

"Maran," the woman spoke. She grabbed hold of his arm. Her whispers carried over to Royle. "Look at his clothes."

Maran balked. Not a thinker, Royle noted, with a quick temper when it came to his daughter.

"You're a..."

"Allow me to introduce myself." Royle smiled coldly. "I am Royle Bentham, captain of the Urthan Purgehouse. Are you aware of your daughter's...condition?"

"I-I don't know what you're talking about! You must have the wrong house. You'd best be on your way. Soiya, come. Let us go inside."

He barged past Royle, hands shaking as he attempted to unlock the gate. It was at this moment three figures approached the home. Servants, from the look of them.

"Master," one of them called. A plump woman, jittering with concern. "Has she been found?"

"No, Elma," said the mother. "We'll look for her again tomorrow."

"Your daughter is missing?" Royle observed. That would be an inconvenience. Though, after her experience with the witch killer, he doubted she would want to stay in the streets. And there was a light he saw turning on in the house. It had to be her.

"No!" Maran whirled around, eyes wild like an angry dog. "I don't know why you're here, Captain, but I have no business with the likes of you. Perrick, open the gate." He handed the keys to the only manservant in the group. The missing groundskeeper.

"Yes, sir." With steady hands, the gate opened in a few seconds.

"I know who your daughter is," Royle said. The inconvenience gnawed at him. He'd need to get rid of the servants. "Or what she is. I don't think you want to cross me, Mister Carpenter, considering your situation."

"I don't know what you're talking about! Please leave!" Maran ushered Soiya through the gate, practically shoving the lamp into her hands. The servants made to follow, but Royle halted them with an order.

"Shall I spell it out for you?" he continued once he had all their attention. "Your daughter, Misa Carpenter, is a wi—"

"Stop!" Maran glanced at the servants. So they didn't know. Interesting.

"Send them away for the night. I believe we can have this discussion in private. For your daughter's safety."

The carpenter's shoulder sagged, and Royle knew he had him. Maran reluctantly sent the three away with enough money to book rooms at an inn. He spoke to Royle once they were out of earshot.

"What do you want?"

Royle relaxed. The situation was under control. "I want her to work for me."

"What?"

"We can talk of details inside." He gestured to the looming house. "Do you plan to invite me in?"

Maran sighed. "Very well. I don't suppose I have a choice in the matter."

He did not. Royle took note of the situation, coming to several conclusions based on what he had seen. The girl's parents thought she had run away. If they'd been out all day, it was likely they didn't know of her encounter with the witch killer. It made sense now why she hadn't wanted Royle to take her home. Considering how irrational and paranoid her father was being, letting him know of her nearly losing her life and involving herself with the purgehouse would only tighten his hold on her.

Given this information, Royle had an idea of how to convince her to join him. In the grand scheme of things, he only really needed her to make the decision. Her parents' objection would be inevitable and thus irrelevant. Her decision was the most important thing now, and he thought he knew just how he could make it for her.