Witch Zanthia's Little Shop Of Horrors

The people who came in so suddenly were two young a.d.u.l.ts. They wore tunics that did not fit at all, as if the designer had erred at the waist for a measure or maybe two, and were held by collars that were worn around their necks.

Undoubtedly, the man was the most striking at first sight. He was short and robust, with a serious and dignified face, and with powerful muscles that enthralled most of the women in the room. Some of them sighed. The young man had a skin so black it was almost jet-black and contrasted strikingly with his completely white hair.

But the most shocking of all were his eyes. His pupils were completely covered with an iridescent white veil and looked to infinity as if he could see things that for others were hidden. The man was dressed in a wrinkled tunic of an insipid brown color, sleeveless and wrong in size. It was not clear if such clothing was a mistake or if perhaps he dressed like that deliberately, maybe to try to go unnoticed. In any case, the clothing could not diminish his charisma at all.

His companion was a beautiful girl with very pale skin. She was tall and very thin. She wore a white robe with rows of arcane symbols embroidered in gold and had on her pretty nose sunglasses that did not let see her eyes. Although she was extraordinarily beautiful, this person emanated a more intellectual air, not exempt from certain coldness. It managed to put a large distance between her and the rest of the people. Unlike his partner, no woman sighed for her.

As for men ... well, everyone know how most men are, right? Almost all of them observed the cold beauty. Most were discreet in their observations, because the arcane robe of the mage inspired a certain respect, but not others. Some of them even thought about inviting her out once the audience was over.

The truth was that it did not seem that the newcomer was the kind of woman who accepted invitations from strangers but the shamelessness of some had no limits. And besides, who knows, perhaps one of them could be successful. Maybe if they invited her to dinner? It must be recognized that being so thin, the young woman looked as if it would be good to eat a good plate of roast meat or two.

* COUGH! COUGH! *

The magistrate Luis Philippe cleared his throat and nodded to his secretary and the guard. This reminded both of them of their obligations and they addressed the young couple with respect.

"The court of the honorable Lord Magistrate Louis Philippe is pleased to welcome the Truthteller and his escort. Can we know the name of your excellence? " said the secretary Thomas Brandt in a ritual tone, while joining his hands until palms and fingers were pressed together, and he bowed deeply in the direction of the man of black skin and veiled pupils.

The welcome ritual was a greeting and a prayer at the same time, instituted a long time ago by the monks who worshiped the God of Truth. Tiwazhorus was a merciless deity who liked to judge others by their actions and could not be deceived, because one of his eyes had the power of the sun and the other the power of the moon. He was represented sitting on a throne, with a mallet on his knees, and dressed in a black leather robe and a wig of white curls held by a crown of thorns.

According to the legend, when the dead presented themselves before this god to be judged, they had to repeatedly bow down to him for ten years before obtaining an audience. But a very clever monk who had thought of the pilgrim idea that if one began to pay obeisances in advance then perhaps when the time came the God would be lenient. And thus the welcome ritual had been born.

A ridiculous idea, of course, but it had turned out to be surprisingly effective. Tiwazhorus had been flattered when people began to revere him even before entering their domains. He still judged them without showing any mercy but at least he began to allow his worshipers to overtake some places in line, so to speak.

In any case, the welcome ritual was widespread in the Scarlet Empire. It was strictly followed in all the courts and even the magistrates used a gavel and wore a toga and a wig for honoring the god Tiwazhorus. However, no one ever wore a crown of thorns. It was painful, impractical and everyone thought that they already made enough of a fool of themselves with having to put on the wig. Even respect for the gods has its limits.

One of them was Lord Magistrate Louis Phillipe, because this was his court and as long as he was in it he did not have to bow to anyone. The magistrates of the Capital were appointed directly by the Emperor and there were only five magistrates in it.

Two in the outer circle, one in each of the remaining circles and the High Magistrate who resided inside the palace. Each had different attributions but while in their respective courts their power was absolute. Only the Emperor could contradict them.

The other was the witch Zanthia. Strictly speaking, she should have bowed. That she did not do so was an obvious lack of respect for the Truthteller and his escort. It was known that the High Monk of the God of Truth was as unmerciful as the deity he followed and that he had excommunicated or even made some people be killed for less than that. But Zanthia was Zanthia and for anyone who knew her that should be enough explanation.

She had not even bowed to Louis Philippe when he had entered the court. She had only slightly nodded towards the magistrate and that was only because she had come to ask him to release Opal. If the newcomers expected her to bow, they had better brought a couple of chairs because they would have to wait a long time.

The young monks approached the stand without immediately answering the secretary's question, so he had no choice but to clear his throat and repeated it again.

"Welcome to the court of the honorable Lord Magistrate Louis Philippe. We are pleased to receive the representatives of the God of Truth. Can we know how to address to your excellence?"

The man of black skin opened his mouth as if he was going to answer but the thin woman nudged him not too subtly and answered instead:

"The name of his excellence is Giorgio Falluto. The brother has made a vow of silence. "

"This is ... uh ... unexpected. How will he do his work then, if he cannot talk? "

The secretary and the guard exchanged a worried look. The guard shrugged but the secretary frowned.

"This, ahem, is highly irregular. The protocol of the court dictates that it is the Truthteller who... " the secretary began to say but was abruptly interrupted.

"Brother Giorgio Falluto is the Truthteller assigned by the High Priest for this case. But, of course, if you don't like him you are entitled to rejecting our help and requesting a replacement" replied the young woman in the white tunic in a tone so cold that it chilled the blood of those present in the room, "I am sure that our superiors will be understanding with your interest in the protocol and will quickly send you another monk for the audience ... like in 20 years, would it be good for you?"

The threat was not vain. The Truthtellers were no more than a dozen in the entire Scarlet Empire.

It was because to be elegible the aspirants first had to sacrifice their sight and hearing and even then there was no guarantee that this would be enough to be accepted by God. Plus, if they were accepted, they had to commit to never telling a lie for the rest of their lives.

In exchange for their sacrifice and commitment they received from the Tiwazhorus the divine capacity to differentiate the truth from the lie in any situation, among other powers. This made them invaluable for judicial proceedings and was the source of respect for them in the Empire. Their participation was reserved for cases in which only the nobility or some urgent matter of the empire was involved.

Although the Truthteller's presence in this court was due only to the fact that the matter of the audience was the death of an heir of the Montes family, the magistrate still considered it a personal triumph. That's why he had been so anxious to summon him.

But now that the Truthteller was finally there, the first thing that had happened was that somehow the secretary had managed to offend him and his escort. Louis Philippe decided to urgently intervene:

"Of course we will respect the vow of silence of the Truthteller. However, if it is not too much trouble for Brother Falluto, could his excellency be kind enough to agree when the witness's statement is a truth and deny when it is a lie? "

"The brother agrees with your proposal."

Everyone present sighed with relief. The audience could continue. The Truthteller and his escort were placed next to the magistrate, in an elevated chair specially arranged for them. The people fell silent and returned the order in the room without the magistrate having to use his gavel. It was because everyone wanted to hear what the witch had to say.

The secretary prepared his pen and his shorthand notes. The honorable Louis Philippe looked at Brother Falluto and he nodded. The magistrate finally indicated to the witch that she could begin her statement and the witch approached the stand.

"Witch Zanthia, do you voluntarily and unreservedly accept to confront the Truthteller.

"Yes I accept."

His excellence nodded. The confrontation had begun.

The black-skinned man looked at the witch with his veiled pupils. It emanated such a dignity that the public felt that he knew each one of their secrets. The witch responded with her own gaze, her deep blue eyes acquired an unfathomable depth that made people felt like she could read the truth hidden in their hearts. Their gazes meet each other in a silent contest of power.

The magistrate asked his questions in a loud voice.

"Witch Zanthia, do you have enough power to catch a person's soul?"

Everyone looked at Brother Falluto. He nodded with dignity. The witch had answered truthfully.

"Are you powerful enough to prevent the Lord Bishop from releasing the said soul and resuscitating the trapped person?

"No."

Again, they all looked at the man with the black skin. But this time, he shook his head.

The exclamations of amazement ran through the room. The witch had lied! Incredibly, in the last outer circle of the city lived a witch with so much power as to challenge one of the Bishops of the Capital. Fiona Percy's words now gained more credibility and more people started to have suspicions about the witch participation in this matter.

"You are lying. Witch Zanthia, I order you to tell the truth. Are you powerful enough to prevent the Lord Bishop from releasing the previously mentioned soul and resuscitating the trapped person? "

"Yes, I am."

Although on this occasion it was not very necessary, his Excellency Giorgio also nodded and confirmed the words of the witch.

"Why then did you say no the first time? Is it because you have something to hide? "

The monk nodded. The people exchanged some confused looks and some whispered their opinions. What everyone was commenting about it was this: If she had nothing to hide, why did she take the risk to lie in a confrontation with a Truthteller? What the witch had done made no sense at all.

"Then why did you lie?" Asked Louis Phillipe.

"I was just trying to preserve the good name of the august and honorable Bishop. I do not think he would appreciated so much that the fact that a witch who lives in the outer circle of the Capital has more power than him was spreaded out in a public hearing. I was just giving him face but now you forced my hand so I had to answer with the truth. I believe the Bishop would not hold this humble witch b.a.r.e ill for it."

* COUGH! COUGH!*

The magistrate cleared his throat. The witch's response had made him look ridiculous. It was true that if the Bishop learned that something like this had been made public in his court, he would get very angry. That vain and spiteful man was famous for protecting his reputation and causing problems to those who spoke ill of him. Louis Philippe began to get a headache just thinking about what could happen.

"In strict order of this court, no one present is authorized to comment on this outside this room. Those who violate this order will be considered to damage the reputation of the august Bishop and punished according to the gravity of the crime, "said the magistrate and hit the stage with his gavel before continuing.

"Witch Zanthia, are you using your power to trap the soul of Lucas Montes and prevent him from being resurrected by the Bishop?"

"No, I'm not doing it. Nor is it me who caught him in the first place. "

The Truthteller nodded.

A sepulchral silence was made in the room, before Zanthia opened her mouth to answer.