Witch Monastery

Chapter 346: Cassalanter—Is It Related to Malena?

Charles then explained to Anno everything about the Stone of Grohl—its origins, its properties, and all the information it held. When he finished, Anno’s eyes were wide with disbelief. "Wait, are you saying you wiped out Xanathar’s Guild in just a few days?"

Charles nodded. "Not just that. I also turned that beholder into my familiar. Xanathar, come out and say hello to your new Mistress."

Reluctantly, the palm-sized beholder familiar poked its head out from behind Charles’s neck so Anno could see its true form. Its memories were still intact, and Blackstaff Tower easily counted as one of its old enemies. To be seen by former foes in its current state was unbearably humiliating.

"Oh my gods!" Anno clapped a hand over her mouth, shock written all over her face. "This guy was a major threat! Blackstaff Tower’s wanted it gone forever, but we could never pinpoint its old nest."

"How on earth did you find it?"

Charles chuckled. "Heh, I have my ways. Got a few friends who are right at home in the dark to help me out."

"Besides, he wasn’t even hiding that deep."

Without another word, Anno gave him two light punches in protest. "You jerk. How could you not include me in something so important?"

"I wanted to see for myself—if the legends about beholders really hold up!"

Charles pulled her into a hug, comforting her. "Next time, for sure!"

Anno hit him two more times, but let the subject drop and changed topics. "So my job is to deliver this to Madam Vajra, so she can retrieve those dragon crowns?"

Charles nodded. "That’s right. This key and that treasury are way too dangerous. Only with her knowledge and strength can we possibly recover the last City Lord’s treasures safely."

Anno nodded. "Alright, I’ll go see her right afterward."

She put the Bag of Holding away, then asked, "Anything else? I remember you had something you wanted help with?"

Charles nodded. "Yes. In the process of taking down Xanathar’s Guild, I stumbled on some really suspicious clues—but I don’t have solid proof yet."

"So, could you investigate a noble family named ’Cassalanter’? They might be involved in... well, something I can’t outright say. If I go too far, it becomes slander. Just... maybe something not so clean."

Anno nodded, her expression growing thoughtful as she tried to recall. "Cassalanter family... I don’t know them that well. Our families don’t interact much, so I can’t say I’m very familiar."

"But I do remember some basics. Most of their businesses are based in the Muse District—media, entertainment, news agencies. But it seems like just a few years ago, they suddenly expanded after taking over another family’s assets."

Could that have been Malena’s family’s business?

Charles wondered silently, then listened as Anno continued, "Their family head’s actually an irresponsible guy, not really competent. He rarely oversees family or business affairs."

"Even though he appears in public as the face of the family, everyone knows he’s just a figurehead. His wife is the real one in charge."

On Charles’s shoulder, the petite beholder kept nodding energetically. That lined up perfectly with what it knew: every time it dealt with the Cassalanters, it was the plump Ammalia Cassalanter—it had never even seen the man himself.

"But that’s about all I know." Anno’s expression turned a little helpless. "I’ll try to dig up more, but it might take a little time."

Charles leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Thanks, sweetheart."

A shy blush bloomed on Anno’s cheeks as she whispered, "Are you heading home today?"

Charles’s heart leaped. He looked up at the sun through the window, hesitating. "It’s already getting late... if I tried heading back, I doubt I’d find any carriage driver willing to go out to South Harbor District at this hour..."

Anno’s heartbeat picked up speed—of course she knew exactly what he meant.

Trying to hide her excitement, she quietly offered, "In that case... do you want to just stay at my place tonight?"

Charles stiffened in surprise.

Crap, does this mean I’ll have to meet her parents?!

Hiss... I’m definitely not ready for that.

His instincts told him to bail, but he just couldn’t come up with an excuse. There was no escaping tonight’s meeting, so he braced himself and prepared to go along.

Just then, his Sending Stones started glowing. Charles paused, picked it up, injected a trace of magic, and after reading the message, his face darkened a little.

Noticing the change, Anno’s heart sank. "Did something come up?"

Charles nodded. "Yeah. Remember how I said the Church of the Goddess of Life headquarters sent someone to inspect my monastery?"

"Well, the inspection results are in: that old-school, rigid dwarven priest found all sorts of faults with me—said I was too harsh on the nuns, or something."

Anno’s eyes widened. "That’s... actually a problem?"

"I have no idea what he was thinking, either." Charles sighed. "Anyway, now they’re sending in a specialist to ’guide’ us through a long-term reform."

"That person just arrived at my monastery, and I’m supposed to greet them in person."

Anno looked a little disappointed. "Alright then..."

She forced a smile, trying to cheer him up. "It’s okay. No need to rush meeting my parents. Worst case, you can always see them at the medal ceremony."

Ever since he’d defeated the Abyssal Lord, everyone already knew he’d be fast-tracked onto the year-end honors list. It was practically tradition in Liberl Port. No one knew exactly what title he’d be granted, but the award itself was already a given.

Charles leaned down and kissed her lightly on the forehead, his voice low and soft. "Yeah, let’s make it official then. I’ll prepare some presents for your father and mother."

Anno held him, reluctant to let go, but after a while, they finally parted. She returned to Blackstaff Tower, and Charles let out a quiet sigh, then went outside, reluctantly hired an overpriced carriage, and raced off to South Harbor District.

Meanwhile, when Anno returned to Blackstaff Tower, she immediately filed a report with her superiors, requesting an urgent audience with Madam Blackstaff.

Pretty much everyone in the upper ranks of Blackstaff Tower knew that this battlefield-decorated female paladin currently had Vajra’s personal favor. With her noble lineage, no one was about to keep her waiting. Her request was passed straight to the top, and less than ten minutes later, someone came to fetch her, leading her through a portal straight to Blackstaff Tower’s highest floor.

...

At the entrance to Madam Blackstaff’s private quarters, the mage-robed escort politely withdrew. Anno stepped forward and knocked gently; she’d barely rapped once before the heavy door silently opened, revealing a spacious reception lounge inside.

Far at the end, there was a massive floor-to-ceiling window. A magical glass chandelier hung from the ceiling. The floor was covered with a huge red velvet rug embroidered with golden floral patterns, and two enormous brown leather sofas sat to either side.

Anno slipped off her shoes and, in her socks, walked inside. She found Vajra lounging lazily on the sofa, dressed in an exquisite black silk enchanted robe, feet bare, completely at ease.

Anno’s eyes drifted briefly to Vajra’s bare, beautiful feet. Despite her darker skin, Vajra’s complexion somehow looked more like a careful, sun-kissed tan—glistening and smooth, reminiscent of glossy dark chocolate, more inviting than coarse or ugly.

"Anno." It was Vajra who spoke first, catching sight of her visitor. "What’s so urgent you needed to see me in person?"

Unhurried, Anno reached into her pocket and produced a Bag of Holding. "This, Madam Blackstaff. It’s from my partner—the Priest who took down the Abyssal Lord of Montport—Nigel Charles of the Church of the Goddess of Life, South Harbor District."

She deliberately recited all Charles’s credentials for fear Vajra would forget who he was. "He recently followed a lead on cultist activity, went underground in the port, wiped out the beholder Xanathar and its criminal organization, and acquired this—the key to a treasury left by a former City Lord."

"Since this is public property and involves a massive amount of assets, once Priest Charles figured out what was inside, he handed the key to me to turn in to Blackstaff Tower, entrusting you with the whole matter."

Moments ago, Vajra had looked bored. Now, her interest was thoroughly piqued. Eliminating Xanathar and its gang was a major feat, but not one requiring her personal commendation.

But this second bit—though not city-shaking—was tremendously important to Vajra, personally.

After all, she’d risen to power as the former City Lord’s enforcer. Ever since he’d been deposed and exiled, her own position left her walking on eggshells.

She’d tried to prove her unique value by vanquishing the Great Old One, Shudde M’ell, but even in that epic battle, the current City Lord, Laeral Silverhand, had intervened at the critical moment to ensure victory.

The world might not know the full story, but Vajra herself felt insecure, anxious. Many times she’d wanted to speak openly with Laeral and clarify a few things, but she never found a good excuse.

Now, the delivery of this key could ease the city’s financial woes and, more importantly, alleviate Vajra’s own mounting stress—a balm for her immediate troubles.

She couldn’t help feeling grateful—even developed a quiet fondness for Priest Charles, though they’d never met.

"Where is the key now?" Even Vajra’s eternally steady voice was tinged with excitement.

"Here," said Anno, stepping forward and handing the Bag of Holding to Vajra. "Careful—the key is actually a shrunken, petrified aboleth. It can establish psychic links and forcibly read people’s memories—one slip and it could drive you insane."

She passed on Charles’s warning verbatim. But Vajra seemed not the least bit concerned—she simply reached into the bag and pulled out a rough, dull, four-sided stone wedge.

Her mental fortitude was forged in battle; she had long since achieved legendary status. The aboleth’s psychic attacks were nothing to someone of her caliber.

Seeing Vajra unaffected, Anno fell silent.

Vajra weighed the Stone of Grohl in her hand, furrowed her elegant brows, then shut her eyes and sent a surge of divine power into the stone, actively probing the aboleth’s memories.

With nothing else to do, Anno started idly observing the twin golden horns protruding from Vajra’s snow-white hair. Madam Blackstaff was, after all, a tiefling with devil blood—her body carried many features not seen in ordinary humans. Anno found herself wondering how Vajra usually cared for her horns and tail... but asking was probably too rude, so she suppressed the urge.

Moments passed. Anno brought her gaze back to Vajra—only to notice, inexplicably, that the normally dark, resplendent face of Blackstaff Madam was now faintly flushed.

Was she under that much mental pressure from forcibly reading the aboleth’s memories... or did she stumble across something embarrassing?

Hold on—now that she thought about it, she’d never heard anything about Vajra having a lover, or a spouse.

Could she really have been single this whole time?

Anno’s mind wandered, but just then Blackstaff Madam opened her eyes again. This time her amber gaze and flushed cheeks carried a forced sternness. "Priest Charles was correct. These are indeed the former City Lord’s treasures."

"He’s done great things. This is a stroke of luck for the entire city. I need to go see Laeral Silverhand right away and deliver this key to her."

She paused, then asked, "You deserve credit here too. Is there anything you want in return?"

Anno’s face lit up, and without missing a beat, she answered, "Yes, Madam Vajra, I do have a favor to ask."

"The year-end investiture ceremony is coming up. As far as I know, the final list isn’t public yet, so it could still change."

"I’ve heard that for slaying the Abyssal Lord, the Open Lord intends to grant Priest Charles a noble title—but I don’t know what rank."

"But now, with his defeat of Xanathar and recovery of the missing treasure, I was wondering..."

She hesitated—it felt strange to bring up something so serious as honors. As a noble, Anno had always been taught that investitures were a matter of utmost importance—never something you lobbied for lightly.

But for the sake of her beloved, she threw caution aside: "Could I ask that you speak up in his favor, so that Priest Charles is granted a higher-ranking noble title from the start?"

Her heartfelt plea made Vajra give her a second look. "Last time, and now this time—you care so much about that man’s achievements. Why not think about your own future for once?"

Anno’s cheeks went red, but she lifted her chin, straightened her back, and forced herself to sound breezy. "Because I love him."

The moment she said it, she regretted it, blushing so hard she wished she could crawl into a hole and disappear.

Anno, what are you even doing? How can you say something like that in front of your superior?

What were you thinking?!

She burned in embarrassment. Across from her, all Vajra could do was choke—a feeling like something unspeakable was jammed in her chest, leaving her momentarily speechless, even a little out of breath.

Dammit, I thought there’d be some more noble reason... but it turns out it’s just this...

As she looked at Anno’s young, blushing face, bashful but unable to hide her joy, Vajra was suddenly swept by a surge of jealousy.

Her own youth had been spent in discrimination and hard work; she’d never enjoyed a carefree girlhood. To see this now made her feel both wronged and envious.

Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly, trying to regain her composure. She was too mature to squabble with a subordinate a generation younger—even if Anno had just stuffed her full of "public displays of affection."

When her emotions settled, Vajra said quietly, "I can put in a good word for him, but the final decision still rests with the Open Lord."

Instantly, Anno’s smile was dazzling: "Thank you, Madam Blackstaff!"

She bowed out and left, her steps light and springy. Vajra followed her retreating figure until the doors shut behind her, then drooped her eyes, lost in melancholy.

A joy I never got to experience, and probably never will.

So be it. This is fate. I’ve gained so much, willingly given up even more... Perhaps a lonely second half of life was meant for me all along...

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