Ever since the five Sleeping Island witches arrived at Border Town, Roland had been on edge. After the dinner party, he found himself lying in bed, unable to fall asleep. He had to get up and drink half a glass of baijiu to force himself to sleep.
By the next day, when the summer cicadas in the courtyard began to chirp, he had already regained consciousness. With a vigorous stretch, he climbed out of bed, did a quick wash, and entered the office—just as the sky began to lighten, the first rays of dawn filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, evenly bathing the room in their golden glow.
Roland scanned the room, but the familiar nightingale was nowhere to be seen. Normally, when he entered, he would find the bird lounging on a chair, its face showing a languid expression. A faint smile played on his lips as he sat down at the table, pulled out a notebook from the drawer, and began mapping out his next witch-cultivation plan.
While Wendy and Shulian naturally handle helping newcomers adapt and integrate, his role is to launch a sugar-coated charm campaign, ensuring visiting witches enjoy the exclusive comfort of this place. Success isn't defined by keeping them in Border Town—returning is itself a powerful way to promote his territory.
When the sun fully rose, Nightingale finally appeared in the office. "Oh? You really got up early today. Is it true, as Lily said, that you can't resist the new Witch?" "What nonsense," Roland smiled, placing a bag of dried fish on the table. "How was last night with the new sisters?" "Sisters?" She pouted. "Don't take them too seriously." "What's wrong?" Nightingale reached out to lift the bag and turned back to sit in the armchair. "That witch named Sylvie—half of her ten words are lies. Though not malicious, she must have some hidden agenda." "Hmm... understandable," Roland said nonchalantly. "She probably wanted to see if I'm really Roland Wimbledon." "What?" Nightingale was slightly taken aback.
"If your kin's temperament has drastically changed, you'd surely wonder if they've been replaced or taken control," he chuckled. "I bet that's how Tilly sees me. In the capital, I'm notorious for idleness, incompetence, and bullying the weak. How could I possibly stand up to protect the Witch?" Truth be told, no harsher criticism could describe the Fourth Prince. He even recalled a childhood incident: while playing in the palace, he accidentally shattered several crystal vases. To avoid punishment, he not only pinned all the blame on Tilly Wamberton but also staged the scene by throwing his six-or seven-year-old sister into the shards. With such a dark past, it's no wonder others found him unimpressive. Now, it's only natural that his brother, now suspected of a drastic change in temperament, isn't himself—the same person. Anyone would want to investigate.
"I'm curious to hear that too," the Nightingale asked inquisitively. "So you're actually Roland Wimbledon?" "I am, and I'm not," Roland said, spreading his hands.
She froze in shock. "Why does my ability tell me this is true?" "Because that's the reality." The Nightingale's ability could only detect deliberate lies, and he didn't believe he was lying.
"..." She furrowed her brow in deep thought for a long moment, then rested her hand on her forehead and decided to stop thinking. "Never mind, I'll just ask Anna directly later. Whatever happens, you're still the Roland I know." "Of course, I've always been the Roland I know," Roland replied with a smile.
After breakfast, Wendy escorted the five witches from Sleeping Island to the office.
"Good morning, Your Highness." The five bowed their heads in salute.
"Relax, I'm not one to fuss over formalities. Call me whatever you like-it's the same as how you call Tilly," Roland waved his hand. "Your first week will be entirely free from work. The focus is on familiarizing yourselves with Border Town's environment and daily life. Feel free to explore the town-no one will curse you for being witches or try to capture you for bounty. I've eliminated the Church's influence from the West, so this place is as free as Sleeping Island." "You probably know why the Magic Power consumes the body, so essential training must continue. There are no daytime restrictions-just remember to return for lunch. After dinner, elementary education classes will cover literacy, basic math, and natural knowledge. Tilly might have mentioned that witches' abilities can be further enhanced beyond the Coming of Age Day. Those interested can attend classes with the town's witches." "Additionally, you'll receive a Golden Dragon monthly, along with weekends and paid leave-if you need clarification, ask Wendy. Your daily life here mirrors the Witch Alliance's. Sleeping Island is the witches' home, and Border Town is no exception." Roland paused. "Now, let's test your abilities. Tilly's description in the letter wasn't very clear. I want to see it with my own eyes. This isn't the best spot for casting spells. Let's find a more spacious area." "Please wait a moment, Your Highness. I have something else to deliver to you," Hilvy said.
"What is it?" She opened the package in her hand, placing yellowed parchment papers and a letter on the table. "Lady Tilly discovered these documents in a fjord ruin. All her questions for you are written in this letter." Roland opened the envelope with a puzzled look. The letter was brief, and he quickly reached the end, but its contents stirred up a storm of emotions within him.
A sunken artificial stone island beneath the sea, its tides shifting unpredictably, a centuries-old watchtower still functioning, and a stone gate carved into the cliffside... It's utterly astonishing. How could such bizarre relics exist in the fjord? And when Tilly's final question sent a shiver down his spine—glancing at the parchment—he realized the inscriptions bore a striking resemblance.
"Quickly, summon the books," Roland commanded the nightingale.
The book was swiftly returned from the town hall to the castle. When she summoned the Magic Power Book, Prince couldn't help but frown.
The 'Holy Book' unearthed by Hakkara from the Eastern Forest Ruins and the documents discovered in the Fjord Ruins were found to use the exact same script! Tilly's letter had confirmed her suspicions—these ancient relics were all created by the same group of people.
If the Church was the architect of all this, why did they abandon it all? Not only these magnificent structures, but even the records from four hundred and fifty years ago were erased without exception. What exactly are they trying to conceal?
The scorching midsummer sun offered no warmth to Roland. A chilling sensation rose from his feet, cold and eerie.
Was the stone tower discovered by Lightning in the Hidden Forest connected to these relics? And what about the evil beasts, the Devil, and the Sacred City of Tachira... What catastrophe had struck 450 years ago? A wave of intense unease surged through Roland's heart.