Witch of Fear [Mild horror, Isekai High Fantasy]

Autumn panted, her lungs burning as she ran through the crisp morning air. The chill breeze washed over her scorching body as molten sweat dripped from her every pore, sticking her sodden tunic to her taut muscles like a second skin. Salt stung her eyes. Constantly, she had to brush away her sweat-soaked raven hair from her face, only for it to stick to her again with each bounce.

Alongside her, the others doggedly kept pace, each striving towards another line carved into the dirt.

Sometime while Autumn had been asleep, Nethlia had turned a rather substantial section of flat grassland outside the encampment into a training yard of packed earth. She’d even set up a row of straw dolls, presumably made from local materials, along the far side for target practice. However, it was the hauntingly familiar lines running horizontally down the entire length that’d made Autumn shudder upon seeing them the first time.

Lines the entire party were sprinting for now.

Autumn cursed her loose lips as surely as the others were for inflicting the torment of suicide drills upon them all.

Upon reaching the final line in the dirt, everybody tiredly pivoted in place and rushed back to the starting line.

As she set a blistering pace matched by the others, Autumn wished she was back in her tent, sandwiched between Nethlia and Eme’s warmth. Yet it wasn’t to be. Earlier than even this dreadful hour, Nethlia had roused them from blissful slumber and the siren-song of their beds to cast them cruelly out and into her hellish training.

Already Nethlia had pushed, pulled, and prodded Autumn through a dizzying variety of stretches that’d left the witch’s body burning and looser than it’s ever been. Pride welled up in Autumn’s chest as she recalled the flexibility she’d regained from her track and field days. Not that it’d been all that long ago.

Eme’s feline flexibility had tempered Autumn’s pride somewhat. The catgirl could do standing splits while using Nethlia’s statuesque body as a wall.

No, she wasn’t jealous. At all. Anyone who said otherwise was a dirty liar.

Exhausted, Autumn staggered across the starting line amidst Nethlia’s cheerful encouragement. She slowly decelerated from her stumbling sprint into a walk, placing her hands on her hips as she sucked down great gouts of air to steady her breathing. Her legs shook like a newborn fawn as she paced.

Autumn looked over as the others with a critical eye as they staggered to a stop beside her.

Everybody had suffered from starvation when they’d gotten lost under the roots of the world, but none more so than Nelva. Thanks to her race’s primarily herbivorous diet, she’d been unable to consume any of the meat they’d scavenged from the dead dragon. And while that trait had spared her from Liddie’s atrocious attempts at cooking, it also meant she’d had to subsist entirely on what meager rations of dried mushrooms and roots her group could pool together.  

Thankfully, they’d resupplied on vegetation rations somewhat when they’d briefly met back up with the convoy, and high-priced, nourishing, calorie-dense foodstuffs in Nasurin, but it’d still been a rough trip for the poor Lepus Knight.

Now, however, Nelva’s health had significantly improved, not the least aided by the oddly colored alchemical drafts Pyre concocted for them. The alchemist’s supplements tasted like mud and strawberries. 

Pyre had said she couldn’t do anything for the taste, but Autumn suspected it was revenge for something. What that was, she didn’t know, but she was sure of it.

“Alright!” Nethlia bellowed, shaking Autumn from her contemplations. “Partner up! It’s time to run through strength training! No slacking now! I’ll be watching!”

Pairing up with Nelva, Autumn and she muddled through the rigorous training regime Nethlia had devised for them all. Push-ups, sit-ups, squats, lunges, planks, and many more that Autumn knew not the name of. For the next hour and change, the demoness ran the party ragged.

Eventually, thankfully, Nethlia called a halt to the training. 

Autumn collapsed into the dirt as her quaking legs couldn’t support her any longer. 

A tossed waterskin kicked up a plume of dust as it landed before the doubly exhausted witch. Glancing up, she watched as Nelva drained her own, before using her shirt to wipe away the heavy sweat from her brow. Autumn leered respectfully at her friend’s toned physique.

“That was a good workout, no?” Nelva said to Autumn, speaking reflexively in her native tongue. 

Autumn started, tearing her eyes away from Nelva’s chocolate-toned muscles. Quickly, she guzzled down her water, splashing the dregs over her head to cool down, before replying. 

“Aha, yeah. It was something alright,” Autumn grumbled as she massaged her aching muscles. She’d have to see if Pyre could make anymore of that healing balm, else she might not be moving in the morning. “Do you think we’re done, or does Nethlia have more planned?”

“Hmm, I think she wants us to spar for a bit before going off to do our own things.” 

“Right,” Autumn nodded. “Did you want to spar together, then? I left my weapons back in my tent. I can go get them if you want me to.”

“Oui. But I think it might be best to do some hand-to-hand, seeing as how we lack our armor. Do you know much about grappling?” Nelva asked, running a hand through her shaggy hair. 

Autumn tilted her hand back and forth. “Vaguely. I’ve never done it myself, but I’ve seen it done. You’ll have to teach me.” 

“Bien!” Nelva held her hand to the supine witch, hauling Autumn to her feet when she grasped it. “I’m glad I don’t have to train out any bad habits you might’ve picked up. Or less, at least.”

“What makes you think I’d have any? Bad habits, that is.” 

Nelva leveled Autumn with an arch look. “Everyone picks up bad habits.”

“Even you? Every time I’ve seen you fight, it's been like watching a dance. But, like, a deadly one.”

Nelva shrugged as she squared off with Autumn, lowering her center of gravity. “I’ve had some of the best chevaliers as my trainers, but even then it took me years to learn how to fight. You? I just need to show you what not to do. So come, let’s spar.” 

If Autumn thought she was deadly in close-quarters, Nelva showed her otherwise. She didn’t even stand a chance against the agile knight. As soon as Nelva got her hands on Autumn, it was over. Even if Autumn had been willing to use magic on her friend, Nelva was smart enough to keep the witch’s hands from touching her.

On the plus side, Autumn now knew what it felt like to be put in a headlock and a myriad of arm bars.

Nelva ran Autumn through the various forms of knightly grappling she knew. 

Clearly designed for use against an armored opponent, the style placed heavy emphasis on using the opponent’s weight and restricted maneuverability against them. While getting up from being thrown to the ground in armor was easier than it looked, or so she’d been told, you still didn’t want to be at the mercy of your opponent. Many a knight had died on their backs with a dagger slipped between their armored plates. 

A tired Autumn lay on the dusty ground, staring up at the enormous creatures swimming through the clouds as Nelva sat down beside her. 

“You did well for your first time. You should be proud.”

Autumn huffed. “I just got thrown around the whole time. How is that me doing well?”

“You learnt how to fall, did you not?” Nelva joked, her soft laughter tinkling in the air. “It is the most important lesson, non? That and knowing how to pick oneself back up.” 

“I suppose,” Autumn acquiesced. “Where did you learn all that stuff, anyway? Back home?” 

Nelva nodded. “Oui. Mon père was—is a chevalier-commandant of my maison chevaleresque.”

“A what now?” Autumn blinked. 

“Maison chevaleresque,” Nelva repeated slowly. “In common, you would call it, a knightly house. Do you know much about my homeland? Le Duché du Lapin?”

“Wait, it’s really called the Duchy of the Rabbit?” Autumn asked incredulously. 

Nelva shrugged. “It is named after the river Lapin that runs through my country to the northern coast and for the abundance of lagomorphous wildlife we have. Do not call my people rabbits,” she warned the witch sternly. “It is offensive.”

“Noted. But, uh, to answer your early question. I don’t know anything about your home, only that you ran away thanks to some vampire noble or something.”

“Hmm, close, but we do not have nobility in my country. Not how you’d know them.”

Autumn cocked her head in confusion. “I thought you were a noble?” 

“Non. I am a Chevalier. As such, I possess a chevalerie. A knighthood, as you would say in common,” Nelva clarified. “Unlike in the noble republiques further out east, a chevalerie title isn’t inheritable like a nobility would be. However, being a daughter of a Chevalier, there are certain…expectations placed upon oneself.” 

“What, so they expected you to be a Chevalier when you grew up?” 

Nelva glanced down towards Autumn inquisitively. “Oui. Is that so strange where you’re from?”

“Hmm, a little? I mean, some people end up doing their parents’ jobs back home. Farmers, laborers, artists, musicians. That sort of thing. But it’s mostly because of early exposure and influence. In most modern countries, it’s mandatory to receive at least a primary and secondary education, going from ages five up to eighteen. There is tertiary education available in the form of universities and colleges, but I hadn’t finished high school yet before...well, before all this happened.”

“That is surprising to hear. Your people get that much education?”

Autumn nodded. “More or less.”

“What were you thinking of doing once you’d finished your ‘highschool’?” Nelva asked curiously. “Were you planning to join a militaire?” 

“Ha! Me?” Autumn laughed. “I doubt it. Too many rules for me. No, I was planning to be an athlete or an artist. Whichever worked out the best. Maybe both?” 

“And your parents? What did they do? You said your père was a guild leader or something?” 

For a quiet moment, Autumn idly played with the dirt as she thought about her father, letting the dust run through her fingertips. “He wasn’t. Not really. I mean, he was, but not in the way I’ve implied. There aren’t any monsters on Earth. Or at least, not ones that aren’t human. He was a history professor at a local university, teaching medieval literature, of all things. My mother was a game developer. That’s how they met, incidentally. Playing games together. Everything I know about other races, monsters, classes, and combat comes from stories they’d told me of the games they’d played.”

Autumn looked around the clearing warily. “To be honest, it’s spooky how accurate some of their stories turned out to be.”

Clearing her throat, Autumn turned back to Nelva. “Were you, uh, close to your père?” 

Nelva shook her head sadly. “Non. With both his duties and the expectation placed upon me, I saw my mère’s paramours and tutors more than I ever saw my mère or père. I spent my childhood training with other écuyers and écuyères. Squires.”

“Will you ever return?” 

“Perhaps one day,” Nelva smiled. “But first I have to restore my honor.” At Autumn’s questioning look, she continued. “I’ve told you about the vampire, Oui? When I accused my fiance of being a vampire, I did so at my wedding in front of all of my père’s chevaliers. However, when neither sunlight nor silver could prove my claims, I lost my honor in their eyes. An honorless chevalier is a dire thing indeed.” 

“How the hell did a vampire survive sunlight? That’s not fair!”

Nelva scowled. “I assume some trick on their behalf. A magic item, perhaps? Or a body double?” 

“Did you try a wooden stake to the heart? Decapitation? That usually kills vampires in the stories I’ve read.” 

Nelva chuckled. “Autumn, I think that decapitation would deal with most creatures,” she said wryly.

Autumn blushed at the playful rebuke. “Oh, right. Duh. Although…remind me later to tell you the tale of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.” 

Curiosity peaked, Nelva nodded. “Will do.” 

“I’ve been meaning to ask, but, how did you get the name ‘la brave.’”

Nelva flushed slightly at Autumn’s question. Absentmindedly, she played with her shaggy hair as it draped around her neck. Laughing slightly under her breath, she spoke. 

“Well, it’s a humorous tale. I didn’t think so back then, but now I see the humor in it. However, I must ask you not to tell Liddie. I don’t think she’ll ever let it go.”

Autumn nodded eagerly. “You can trust me! Come on. Spill!”

“Well, back when I was younger, just an écuyères, not the chevalier you see before you, a task the older chevaliers would assign me was to help keep the local monster populations down. Supposedly, this was to teach responsibility, dedication, and perseverance, but I think now it was just to keep us kits busy. 

“Anyway, one day a runner came in from an outer village, decrying an invasion of beasts. As a young écuyères, full of vim and vigor, I marshaled my cohorte d’écuyers and set off for the embattled village. Furious, we rode, imagining a beastide the likes never seen before. 

“Unfortunately, when we arrived, our ‘beastide’ was but a gathering of rats gnawing on the village’s grain stores. Ever since, the other écuyers always called me Nelva, la brave tueur de rat. Nelva, the brave rat killer in the common tongue.” 

Autumn snickered, causing Nelva to flush. She glared at the giggling witch. “Laugh it up. Let’s see you deal with a plague of rats.”

“I could,” Autumn snickered. “Easily. Probably cause a rat plague too, now that I think about it. But, I thought it was very brave of you to rush in like that. Who knows, maybe it might’ve been a beastide?” 

“If it was, more the fool I would’ve been. But thank you for your kindness, even if your words were tainted by amusement at my expense,” Nelva snarked playfully.

Movement caught the knight’s attention. Looking over, she saw the others had finally finished their own spars and were making their way back to camp. Standing up with a slight grunt, Nelva offered Autumn a hand up and hauled the witch to her feet. 

“Looks like the others are done. Thanks for sparring with me. And for listening.”

Autumn smiled. Out of her eye, she caught sight of Pyre and was reminded of the poisons she still carried. Turning back to Nelva, she spoke quickly lest the alchemist disappear on her. “It’s no problem! I’m always happy to talk to you! Come get me later and we’ll talk about knights and stuff! I want to tell you all about King Arthur and the round table, Sir Galahad, Saint George and the dragon, Siegfried, Joan of Arc, Saint Celestine and Roboute Guilliamn!”

Running away as fast as her tortured limbs could carry her, Autumn waved over to a wobbling Pyre. “Hey, Pyre! Wait up! I’ve got some stuff for you!”

Nelva watched Autumn go with amusement. Running her fingers through her shaggy hair, the knight grimaced at the sweaty feeling. 

“I really need to get a haircut,” she sighed.