"Can't witches and humans coexist?"
The eyes of both Ephraim and Agatha widened at Alistair's suggestion. Ephraim felt the gears in his mind stall for a moment, while Agatha thought that Alistair had truly lost his mind.
"A-Are you serious?" Agatha asked in confusion, her gaze toward Alistair shifting to that of a madman.
"I mean, whether we are humans or witches, we all share one common denominator—the desire to live. Whether battles or wars break out between us, we only fight because of the fear we feel from the other's power. Humans fear the supernatural powers of witches, while witches fear the massive numbers and determination of humans. If we can overcome that fear, peace will finally come."
"What kind of fool would—?!" Ephraim began, trying to restrain himself. Was this really the man he had admired all his life?
"…Alistair, is that really what you want?" Agatha asked in confusion, and Ephraim shot her a shocked look as she seemed to agree with Alistair's proposal.
"I just want peace. I don't want the burden of killing witches to be passed on to our children and future generations."
"…Alright then, if that's what you want," Agatha sighed and nodded in agreement.
"W-What?!... You both really have lost your minds!" Ephraim exclaimed in shock, clutching his hair tightly.
"If Lady Medici were a witch, would you have killed her?" Alistair asked calmly, already knowing the answer.
"…Don't drag Arabella into this…" Ephraim whispered faintly, barely louder than a breath. Then he sighed and let go of his now disheveled hair.
"You're so stubborn... But don't expect much from me. I don't want any trouble with the king. If someone's going to propose this offer, it should be you."
"Alright," Alistair nodded, appreciating Ephraim's help.
At that moment, the blue flame on Alistair's arm disappeared, and he noticed how much his arm had healed—even old wounds were gone. But he felt a bit strange, as if he were moving it with a few strings attached, like it was made of wood. Still, he didn't care much.
Agatha smiled slightly, then sensually traced her finger along Alistair's jawline, grabbed his chin, and made him turn to face her.
"If the king agrees, I'll reward you."
Alistair swallowed nervously and glanced at Ephraim from the corner of his eye, noticing that he was looking away, trying to ignore them. Then he looked back at Agatha.
"…Do whatever you want."
For some reason, Agatha's heart raced for the first time in her life because of Alistair. She let go of his chin and sat up straight, shocked by what had just happened. As a witch, she could feel even the smallest changes in her body—witches' senses are hundreds of times stronger than humans'. So if something felt off, she'd know. Unlike humans, who might misinterpret their feelings.
"…Impossible…" Agatha thought to herself, feeling anxious.
"A-Anyway, how do you plan to propose this idea to the king? Everyone knows how much he hates witches, so it'll be hard to convince him," Ephraim asked, clearing his throat and catching the attention of both Alistair and Agatha.
"Leave it to me. I don't think he'll refuse to hear my proposal if he truly cares about his people. Also…" Alistair said, his tone growing quieter and more serious as he spoke, then he remembered Princess Ivara and her nature as a witch.
"Maybe I have something on him."
———
After a few hours of discussion, the sun moved from the east until it reached the center of the sky. Alistair and Ephraim decided to depart and head to the royal palace, while Agatha stayed behind praying for her husband's success.
Finally, Alistair and Ephraim arrived at the royal palace. Somehow, Ephraim managed to request an audience with the king—and succeeded. As soon as they entered the room, Arabella, who had been sitting nearby, noticed them and approached.
"Ephraim," Arabella said, delighted to see her fiancé. She gave Alistair a strange glance from the corner of her eyes, as if worried about him, then looked back at Ephraim.
"I'm glad you succeeded!"
"I'm not sure if it's a success or a scandal…" Ephraim said in confusion.
"What are they talking about?" Alistair thought to himself in curiosity.
At that moment, the king stepped out from his platform like an actor stepping onto a stage through the curtains. A small group of attendees—important nobles and some servants—bowed their heads in respect, while he sat on his throne. The chairs beside him were empty, as his wife and daughters were absent.
"Sir Ephraim Nethercott, step forward with your companion," the king said in a commanding tone, resting his hand on the throne's armrest and his head on his palm.
Then, Alistair and Ephraim stepped forward and knelt before the king. All eyes were on them, waiting for the reason behind their sudden request. Ephraim closed his eyes and spoke in a tone full of respect and loyalty.
"Your Majesty, I did not summon you to speak on my behalf. I merely ask that you listen, The one who stands beside me bears words long silenced—words that may yet change the course of our kingdom. I ask only that you hear her."
The king turned his gaze from Ephraim to Alistair, who, as usual, seemed indifferent to showing any respect. Then he spoke in a tone that sounded uninterested but concealed annoyance.
"Speak, Sir Crowley."
Alistair looked to his right and left; the room was filled with curious and opportunistic eyes. There were too many to discuss something so serious and sensitive.
"I'd prefer to speak in private," Alistair said, raising his head toward the king.
Quick whispers spread among the audience, followed by gasps and angry, annoyed looks. Even if Alistair had killed the witch they had feared for years, what gave him the right to speak to the king this way and request privacy?
"Private?... I see… Very well then," the king said with a composed tone and nodded, gesturing for the servants to escort everyone out. They did so, glaring at Alistair with angry and envious looks.
Even the servants left, and only Arabella, Ephraim, and Alistair remained. Alistair stood from kneeling and grabbed Ephraim, pulling him up from his seat as well.
"You should leave too," Alistair said coldly. Ephraim nodded in confusion. He wasn't hesitant; he took Arabella's hand and left with her, not wanting to witness what might happen.
Only Alistair and the king remained. The king sat on his throne while Alistair stood alone in the center of the hall, hands in his pockets, looking up at him.
"What did you wish to discuss in private, Sir Crowley?" the king asked.
"Killing him from here is easy. It would take no more effort than flipping a page on a still morning. I could take the throne if I killed the rest of the royal family too. Peace would come that way… Well, that's one way," Alistair thought to himself while smiling awkwardly.
He began walking slowly through the hall, his footsteps echoing in the enclosed space.
"The reason for this meeting is to discuss something important—not just related to your crown, but its legacy," Alistair said in a composed and heavy tone.
The king raised an eyebrow, puzzled by the nonsense the man before him was spouting.
"Legacy? You talk like I'm already dead."
"Far from it. But kingdoms die long before their kings—when they fail to change when the world demands it," Alistair said calmly with a faint smile.
"Enough riddles. What are you proposing?" the king asked, narrowing his eyes, his patience already worn thin.
"Peace with the witches."
"Peace?! With those who burned our fields, cursed our sons, and defied God himself? Are you joking with me, Alistair?!" the king snapped in an angry, sarcastic tone. Any king would be furious if such a thing were proposed.
"No, I'm not joking. I could say I've seen firsthand what they're capable of. But I've also seen restraint, mercy, fear—and most importantly: reason," Alistair said, now with his hands out of his pockets, standing still.
"And what about justice?" the king asked, his temper slightly calming.
"Justice isn't real if it's soaked in blood. What we call justice, they call revenge. And the sword swings both ways," Alistair said in a calm tone, his smile coming off as arrogant and rude.
In a cold, hollow tone, the king replied, "And you want me to kneel before the witches?"
"I want you to extend your hand before you're forced to your knees," Alistair said with a smile that matched the emptiness in his eyes.
"Bold words, purge herlad, Dangerous words," the king said, slowly rising from his throne.
"Remember: peace does not disgrace the king—it preserves him," Alistair said in a calm voice and an innocent smile.
The king was silent for a moment. He had taken Alistair's offer seriously. Despite its risks, the king saw some mutual reconciliation that could satisfy both witches and humans and lead to peace. Then he said,
"And what price do they demand for this peace?"
"Land, recognition, dignity. Things taken from them long ago," Alistair said confidently, with a wide smile, knowing the king was now interested.
Then, in a low voice, with a hint of hesitation in his trembling tone, the king asked,
"And do you trust them? What if they betray us in the end?"
"If they betray us, humanity still has one final weapon—me!" Alistair said with dramatic calm.
A shiver ran through the king's body. That wasn't confidence—it was truth and reality. Then he asked,
"And are you certain you can defeat all the witches if something happens?"
Alistair let out a light chuckle. Truly, he found the king's doubt in his power a bit amusing.
"Your Majesty, the person who can defeat me hasn't been born yet. Whether it's dozens or hundreds of witches—let them come. I won't even use magic."
"…If that's what you say… the matter will be considered with the rest of the council… I'll inform you of the details," said the king, surprised at how easily he obeyed Alistair.
"Wonderful to hear, Your Majesty."