“Three witches will suffice for the current size of the revolutionary army. No need for five.”

Helia stared at Lette in shock. While her question aimed to probe Lette’s abilities, she had not expected Lette to mock the founding myth and propose something even more audacious. Helia had merely wanted to confirm whether the power of sorcerers was as extraordinary as the myth suggested and whether Lette, as a witch, possessed similar power.

“You’re not joking, are you?” Helia asked.

“Not at all. That’s why I don’t insist on being called a ‘sorcerer.’ I’m better than them,“ Lette said confidently, dismissing the legendary sorcerers with an air of superiority.

Helia was momentarily taken aback by Lette’s confidence, but Lette quickly clarified.

“Your Majesty, my power is unlike anything you’ve seen before. I could incapacitate Bailey’s army with one hand. Frankly, three witches are enough; I only suggested that number to ensure adequate defense and protection. Casting magic makes multitasking extremely difficult.“

“Take down Bailey’s army with one hand?“ Ruben interjected, his astonishment evident.

“It’s easy for me,“ Lette replied nonchalantly. “For instance, I could strike them with lightning or isolate them by erecting walls. The only caveat is ensuring that allies aren’t mixed in with the enemy when I cast. Offensive magic targets areas indiscriminately, so distinguishing between friend and foe is impossible. That’s why sorcerers are usually better suited for long-range combat. My magic would be constrained if it comes to melee, but with the revolutionary army’s support, it’s manageable.“

Lette spoke as if discussing trivial matters while Ruben failed to conceal his amazement. Although he had anticipated the strength of magic through his research into the founding myth, its actual scope far surpassed his expectations. Helia, too, was stunned.

Realizing her bold declaration had made an impression on the two, Lette pressed on.

“In truth, my specialty lies in black magic, Your Majesty. In simple terms, I excel in offensive magic.”

“Really?” Helia’s interest deepened.

“Yes. I’ve mainly used healing and defensive white magic to maintain my role as a saint, but those aren’t my strengths.“

Having played the role of a saint her entire life, Lette had healed countless people. Yet hearing her say that wasn’t even her forte only heightened the anticipation of witnessing her prowess in black magic.

With an excited expression, Helia clasped Lette’s hands tightly.

“You’re the finest card in my hand.“

“I am deeply honored,“ Lette said, her joy genuine as she expressed her gratitude.

Seeing Helia’s face filled with expectation, Ruben, too, felt a surge of satisfaction. Helia wasn’t done, continuing to shower Lette with praise.

“I’m glad you’re a witch.“

“…I never thought I’d hear such words.”

It was an unfamiliar compliment—one she had never dreamed of receiving. Lette blushed. To not only be fully acknowledged but also have her very existence celebrated by someone was a revelation. Until recently, she had believed such acceptance was impossible. People had only ever adored the idealized half of her, not her whole self. But the person before her embraced her completely and without hesitation, giving her a sense of belonging she had never known.

She saw her as a person, not just a subject. Could there be another leader who inspires such loyalty? Lette wondered.

“But, Your Highness.”

“Yes?“

“Even if I’m not a saintess, wouldn’t it be better to call me a sorcerer instead of a witch?“

Lette’s question was cautious but reasonable. The term “witch“ carried deep-seated prejudices, and being referred to as a mage might encounter less resistance from the public. A kingdom led by witches might evoke an image of an evil empire.

However, Helia didn’t respond in such terms. Instead, she gazed steadily at Lette and asked, “Is that what you want?“

“Hmm…”

Lette hesitated, pondering the question. Her answer came after a moment’s thought.

“Strategically, it might be better. But if I’m being sincere, no.“

“Why?“

“Because I don’t want to assimilate into the category of sorcerers. I want to affirm what it means to be a witch.”

Helia nodded. This wasn’t an issue she hadn’t considered before. It was true that presenting Lette as a mage rather than a witch would be more advantageous for the kingdom’s public image. However, she also foresaw the problems that could follow. Suppose the term “witch“ persisted, and Lette adopted the mage title. In that case, society might begin to divide women with magical powers into two categories: those who were recognized as sorcerers and those who remained witches. 

The stigma and prejudice attached to the term “witch” wouldn’t disappear. In the shadows, there would still be women living as witches, facing the same hardships. It would be better to work toward changing the perception of the term “witch“ into something positive. It would undoubtedly be a more complex and arduous path, but it was worth pursuing. After all, she was called a tyrant. She was no stranger to overcoming the stigma of a disparaging label, making her situation not so different from that of the witches.

Of course, aside from these calculated considerations, Lette wanted to embrace the symbolic meaning of being a witch. But did it matter if their reasons differed? The outcome would be the same. That was what mattered. Helia answered unhurriedly, her face calm.

“Alright. But you’ll have to work that much harder.“

Lette’s face lit up noticeably as if she welcomed the weight she would bear.

“Don’t worry! I’m confident.”

Since revealing herself as a witch, Lette had become more spirited, as though it had always been her true nature. She cast aside the gentle and merciful saintess image and found freedom. Gone was the soft-spoken Lette, replaced by someone who laughed loudly when delighted and shouted her opinions without reservation. Helia found this change rather pleasing for some reason.

“The timing is perfect. I’ve actually found another witch.“

“What? How?“

“It’s a long story, but I’m scheduled to meet her soon.“

“That’s great news.”

Lette was thrilled by Helia’s revelation, while Ruben, raising an eyebrow, cautiously inquired, “May I ask what kind of person she is?”

His tone was gentle yet tinged with concern, which Helia found endearing enough to answer readily.

“She’s Miel’s family. She’s struggled to control her magic and has been confined to her home.“

“Oh dear.”

Lette let out an involuntary sigh of sympathy. Although she hadn’t met many other witches, she instinctively understood their connection. A bond existed among witches, allowing them to empathize with one another’s struggles without direct interaction.

“That’s exactly why you’re creating a country for people like her,“ Ruben said matter-of-factly. Helia nodded in agreement, and Lette cheerfully added, “I hope we get along well.”

As it turned out, Lette’s wish came true.

Exactly one week later, Miel visited Helia’s estate as a guest, accompanied by her younger sister, Vivian. Vivian, unable to meet anyone’s eyes, fidgeted nervously, and when Helia appeared, she trembled as though her heart might stop.

For the first time, Helia saw Miel’s human side in the way she anxiously looked down at her sister. Helia initiated the conversation to ease her concerns.

“Hello. You’re Vivian, correct?“

“I-I’m Vivian Apri. P-pleased to meet you, Your Highness.”

Vivian barely managed to force out her words in a trembling voice. Admiring her courage, Helia overlooked her lack of formality and continued speaking as if nothing were amiss.

“You may raise your head.”

After a long hesitation, Vivian slowly lifted her head. The moment her gaze met Helia’s, she quickly lowered it again. Yet in that fleeting instant, Helia caught a glimpse of the light hidden in her black eyes. It was the same violet glow as Lette’s, but hers was more transparent and radiant.

Whether it was due to a difference in power or something else, Vivian, indeed, was a witch. Of course, she had never doubted Miel’s words, but seeing it confirmed before her eyes brought an unexpected sense of relief.

Unlike her, however, the girl showed no sign of feeling reassured. Her body continued to tremble uncontrollably, and her tightly clenched fists had turned bright red from exertion.

“Vivian.“

“Y-yes, Your Highness.“

“I plan to establish a country where witches are not discriminated against. And to achieve that, I need your power.”