Chapter 45
The fact that the festival had been properly upheld across the entire western region for such a long time was proof of how strong Claid was.
Anne was gradually realizing this as she learned more about Claid’s history and the West. It made sense why the Emperor would see them as a thorn in his side.
“Especially since half of Tegenes’ annual budget is spent on the Night of the Witch festival.”
“That much?”
“We open the castle gates for a whole week and offer hospitality to everyone without discrimination.”
“The magic beasts aren’t a threat since it’s summer, but still—inviting so many outsiders in… isn’t it dangerous?”
“It’s fine because Lady Moira the Witch protects us.”
Patrick’s face showed not a hint of doubt.
For the past five hundred years, this has been the case, and the safety had been proven. Even during the festival, not even the armies of Luto or Hyman had ever invaded.
Perhaps it was a calculated move to avoid inciting public unrest while targeting the West, but regardless, the belief led everyone in the direction they desired.
“And we’ve already started receiving applications. We need to select exactly twelve people.”
The steward led Anne to one of the mansion’s unused libraries. Inside were piles of documents.
“Twelve?”
“It’s a human offering.”
That was when she remembered a rumor from her days working at Duke Benton’s estate, passed on by the maid Maria.
“It refers to the applicants who will journey with the Claid family. The records say the original Claid entourage was thirteen including the founder, so we match that number. But in truth… it’s a bit different from what’s commonly known.”
Patrick’s tone grew cautious.
“They select twelve people who want to make a wish to the witch.”
“A wish?”
“You know how in the Empire, there are high priests who hear the gods’ voices or receive divine revelations and grant the believers’ wishes on behalf of the gods?”
“Yes, but… does a witch truly live in the Witch’s Forest?”
Anne didn’t believe in witches.
In the Hyman Empire, especially in Edith Tara, one was registered at the temple and baptized from birth, so believing in the divine came naturally.
Still, she had never been an overly devout follower.
She attended temple and prayed every Sunday, but deep down, it was with a selfish hope that it would benefit her in real life.
Even so, the act of praying and hearing the priest’s blessing brought her peace.
Maybe belief in the witch in the West was something similar.
“I don’t know. But they say if your wish is truly earnest, the witch will reveal herself.”
Patrick smiled meaningfully.
“And she’ll grant your wish in exchange for a life.”
“Do the twelve people who go with Claid return safely?”
“They don’t actually enter the Witch’s Forest. Only Claid is allowed entry. The twelve people pray outside the forest, and the lord takes their written wishes and offers them at the witch’s altar. He prays on their behalf. That alone gives them comfort.”
“They can’t go into the forest?”
“Even in temples, there are sanctums and altars that only priests can enter or touch, right?”
“Well, yes… but has no one ever gone into the forest?”
Anne remembered clearly.
She had read about a man who survived a battlefield by fleeing into the forest, and she had even advised Matilda to escape there—so the memory stood out vividly.
“During the Night of the Witch festival, the forest gates are open since Claid goes inside. So technically, you could enter. But no one dares. Anyone who steps in without the witch’s permission won’t make it out alive. Still, one or two people always try to follow the lord in.”
“That’s…”
“It means their wish is desperate enough to risk death.”
“Those people must never come back.”
So that’s how the rumors got twisted. Anne nodded, finally understanding.
“Someone did return, actually.”
“What?”
“He came back with a radiant smile, said his wish had been granted, and lived out the rest of his life peacefully. His records and autobiography… I think it was The Life of Verody. Go find it in the library—maids love it.”
Anne made a mental note of the book’s title and sat across from Patrick at the desk.
“Once we finish the first round of review, the lord will finalize the list.”
“What kinds of wishes are so desperate that they’d go all the way to the Witch’s Forest?”
“Well…”
Patrick picked up a document, adjusted his magnifying glasses, and leaned back to read it. Only then did the writing come into focus.
“They’re asking to bring a dead child back to life. Requests to restore life are forbidden. They’re the most desperate ones, but strictly not allowed.”
“I see…”
A dead child. For a moment, Anne’s own wish came to mind.
Her unborn child that had vanished. It had once lived inside her. Anne could still feel its presence in her memories.
And now… even that time was gone.
So why had she come back?
There would be no more children with Gray.
She wanted to ask the witch:
If you’re like a god, do you know why I’ve returned to the past?
While Anne was lost in thought, the steward read from another letter.
“We are a poor household, and my immature son is a constant worry. He hasn’t married even after 30 years, doesn’t work, and is addicted to gambling. Recently, the child’s father injured his leg and can’t earn money, and yet our son found my hidden savings and went gambling again. I don’t care if I die, I just hope my son comes to his senses and lives a proper life… What should I do in this case?”
“Does the witch actually give specific advice for problems like this?”
“Not quite. We’ll report this to the lord and plan to root out the illegal gambling den in this village.”
“So going to wish upon the witch is more of a symbolic act.”
“Exactly. The lord uses the witch’s name to look after the people’s lives.”
Patrick’s expression softened.
“Then what kind of people actually get chosen to go?”
Patrick had been working for a long time. He would know.
“The stories can’t be too extreme or urgent. Usually, people who purely want to pray once in the Witch’s Forest with the lord. It’s less about specific reasons and more about sincere faith. Typically… hmm…”
Patrick adjusted his glasses and gave a mischievous smile.
“The lord just picks as he sees fit. Honestly, our real job isn’t just narrowing it down to twelve people. It’s about listening to all the concerns brought to us by those who’ve waited all year for this day—and finding solutions.”
Once a year, the gates of Tegenes opened wide, letting people in to rest, enjoy themselves, and release their grievances.
Now she understood. This was the Claid family’s strategy to win the West’s loyalty and favor.
That’s why they trusted and favored the witch so deeply.
Anne started reading the documents one by one, organizing the issues.
“Our whole village was destroyed by a magic beast attack last winter, but no repairs have been made. I suspect someone embezzled the funds. I want to ask the witch what really happened.”
→ Write the village name, locate the responsible official, and recommend disciplinary action.
“Last fall, the young master of a viscount family harassed my daughter, then fled to Tegenes and hasn’t come down since. Is there any way to track down that noble bastard? Witch, please strike him down!”
There was no noble seal on the letter, indicating it was likely from a commoner family. It seemed a viscount family overseeing that area had done this. Based on the address, it was probably in the southern region…
“Which viscount families have estates in the South?”
Patrick answered calmly without even looking up.
“The largest southern viscount family is the Sandor family. There are three viscount families in the West: Deruka, located between the northern forest where the witch resides and the oasis; Greslin, in charge of the central region; and Sandor, who governs the South. Especially, the Viscountess of Sandor was born and raised here in Tegenes, so she often visits. The southern heat is worse than here, so even if the head of house can’t leave, the family always stays in Tegenes during spring and summer.”
Besides these, Claid oversaw the areas around Tegenes and the oasis. Other regions were managed by vassals.
Patrick proudly explained the three viscount families, but Anne didn’t hear the rest clearly.
“Oh no…”
“What is it?”
Anne held up a document she couldn’t bring herself to turn over. Patrick, growing curious, approached.
“It has to be Viscount Sandor. Unless that family has more than one son…”
“…!”
Patrick squinted at the document, and then his eyes shot wide open.
“We must inform the lord. We have to stop Sandor from approaching the young lady.”
Anne and Patrick rushed out holding the document.
As soon as they found Hannibal in his office, they handed it to him.
His brow twitched after reading just a short petition.
“Where is Victoria?”
