The Primordial Witch Takes a Stroll Through the Royal Capital
A continent ruled by swords and magic. The human royal capital, Artemis, is protected from external threats by a guardian contract with witches. Witches cannot be killed by humans or other races—only by fellow witches. But the First Witch, Theresia, is the exception: no witch she created can harm her.
Sierra, the White Witch, is twenty years old. She chose to side with humanity, a stubborn and unyielding guardian. One night, sensing an unfathomable presence approaching the capital, Sierra goes
The Primordial Witch Takes a Stroll Through the Royal Capital - My Sister's Village
The autumn wind carried with it the scent of dry earth.
Since passing through the northern gate of the royal capital of Artemis, Shiera had walked steadily northward. The hem of her white cloak was stained with mud, and her long silver hair was tangled by the wind. On her back rested the scabbard containing the holy sword Luminous. In her right hand, she gripped a wooden branch she'd picked up along the way, using it as a walking stick.
How many days had passed since she left the royal capital? She had long since stopped counting.
*I have to find her. Quickly.*
Deep in her chest, impatience smoldered.
The Apostles of the Ash Crown had been annihilated. Theresia had left the royal capital. But nothing had been resolved. That day, Theresia had walked out through the capital's gates and disappeared into the morning light. The helplessness Shiera had felt watching that small back recede from atop the castle walls, sword still raised—it lingered in her fingertips even now.
*I cannot kill her.*
The Primordial's blessing. None of the witches Theresia had created could harm their creator. It was an absolute curse carved into every witch on this continent. No matter how many times Shiera swung her sword, no matter how many spells she cast, everything vanished meaningless before Theresia.
And yet.
*And yet, I—*
Shiera tightened her grip on the wooden branch.
A witch could not be killed by humans or any other race. Only a fellow witch could kill one. And the Primordial Theresia was the sole exception—none of the witches she had created could harm her.
Which meant she had no choice but to seek someone outside that exception.
The single possibility that could kill Theresia. A witch not created by Theresia. A witch without the Primordial's blessing.
Shiera had found rumors of such a being in old texts.
A tattered journal left in the royal capital's archives. Fragments of information the previous White Witches had quietly passed down through generations. What was recorded there was the existence of a witch living in a remote village, disguised as a human.
Her name was Arche.
Theresia's daughter—yet a witch of a different nature, whose magic differed in kind from Shiera's.
*If it's her, perhaps—*
But she had no certainty.
Arche was also Theresia's daughter, which meant there was a high probability she too bore the Primordial's blessing. If so, she also could not kill Theresia. Shiera's journey would have been meaningless from the very start.
*Even so, I have to know.*
Shiera bit her lip.
The Guardian Covenant. The ancient pact with the kingdom to protect the royal capital as the White Witch. Within that framework, Theresia had left the capital. The threat was gone. There should have been no reason left for Shiera to wield her sword.
But this was a personal battle.
Leaving behind the capital she was meant to protect, seeking a means to kill. That went beyond the duties of the White Witch—it was personal obsession.
*What am I fighting for?*
The question echoed over and over in a corner of her mind.
A sense of duty. Impatience. And the doubt—what was she fighting for? They churned together inside her, a tangled mess.
The sky was gray.
Thick clouds hung low, and the sun's position was impossible to discern. Each time the wind blew, the withered grass along the roadside rustled dryly.
The highway grew narrower the farther she got from the capital, eventually becoming little more than an animal trail. The cobblestones disappeared, replaced by packed earth. The surrounding trees had shed their leaves, bare branches reaching toward the sky.
Autumn was deep.
Shiera stopped.
She caught her breath. White puffs dissolved into the gray sky.
*So that's it.*
A small village came into view ahead.
In a hollow between hills, houses stood scattered. Counting them, there weren't even ten. There were plots that looked like fields, but the soil lay bare and ravaged after the harvest. Only two or three houses had smoke rising from their chimneys.
A desolate village.
To Shiera, who knew the bustle of the royal capital, it seemed impossible that this was a settlement on the same continent—so quiet, so small, and so dry.
The wind blew again.
Dust swirled up, striking her cloak. The white fabric grew soiled with gray.
*Arche is here.*
Shiera began walking slowly down the slope toward the village.
---
The moment she entered the village, she felt eyes on her.
A middle-aged woman drawing water by the well stopped and stared. An old man carrying firewood paused and turned. From a doorway, a child poked out their head, peering at her with open curiosity.
*Of course. A stranger in a white cloak, in a place this remote.*
Shiera walked to what seemed to be the village square and stopped.
A well, a small shrine, and the largest tree in the village. That seemed to be the center of things here. At the base of the tree, dried flowers had been laid as offerings.
"...You're a traveler, aren't you?"
The one who spoke was the middle-aged woman by the well. A water bucket rested in her hands, freshly drawn. Her gray hair was tied back, and deep wrinkles were etched into her sun-weathered face.
"Yes. I came from the royal capital."
Shiera answered briefly.
"From the royal capital? What business would you have in a place like this?"
The woman's voice held a mix of wariness and curiosity.
"I'm looking for someone."
"Someone?"
"A woman named Arche. I heard she lives alone in this village."
The moment she spoke the name, the woman's expression softened slightly.
"Ah, Arche. ...Are you an acquaintance of hers?"
"...No. I've never met her. I just need to talk to her."
"I see. Arche lives in the house on the hill at the edge of the village. See, you can see it from here."
The woman pointed toward the northern side of the village.
Shiera followed her finger.
At the village's edge, atop a small hill, stood a single house. Small, crudely built. From its chimney, a thin thread of smoke rose toward the gray sky.
"That house."
"That's right. Arche has lived up there alone for years now. She gets along with the villagers, more or less. She's an odd one, but she's not a bad person."
There was a subtle distance in the woman's tone—a mix of concern for Arche and a certain holding back.
*The villagers treat her as an ordinary woman.*
*They don't know she's a witch.*
Shiera gazed at the house on the hill with her gray eyes.
"You must be tired. Would you like some water?"
"...No, I'm fine. Thank you."
Shiera gave a slight bow and walked toward the village's edge.
She felt the villagers' gazes on her back. Curious, and somehow uneasy.
*This village won't accept me. Naturally.*
Thinking this, Shiera walked the narrow path leading to the hill.
---
The path up the hill was steeper than she'd expected.
Dry grass grew along the packed earth, crackling under her boots. When the wind blew, the pampas grass on both sides swayed in unison, rustling.
Shiera climbed step by step, regulating her breathing.
The wounds from the battle in the royal capital had already closed. A witch's healing was faster than a human's. But the fatigue of a long journey had settled deep in her bones.
*Even so, I can't stop.*
The house drew closer.
A crude wooden structure. The walls were faded brown, and dried grass was piled on the roof. The windows were small, and the door was made of a single wooden plank. In what looked like a garden, something had been planted, but with late autumn upon them, most of it had withered.
*She's here.*
Shiera's spine straightened instinctively.
She sensed no witch's presence. No—more precisely, she was being prevented from sensing it. Arche was completely concealing her magic.
*Living disguised as a human. For years. For what purpose?*
Shiera stopped before the house.
A small wooden chair sat by the door. On it, what appeared to be dried herbs had been bundled and placed.
The scent of daily life lingered here.
A woman lived quietly in this place. Traces of that life were visible everywhere.
Shiera reached her right hand toward the sword on her back.
Her fingers touched Luminous's hilt.
*The other party is Theresia's daughter.*
*Don't let your guard down.*
She told herself this inwardly.
Then, with her left hand, she knocked on the wooden door.
Knock. Knock.
The dry sound echoed through the autumn air.
No answer.
She knocked again, harder this time.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
"...Is anyone there? I've come to speak with someone named Arche."
Her voice rode the wind and disappeared into the house.
Silence followed.
Only the sound of wind rustling the pampas grass.
—Then.
With a creak, the wooden door slowly opened from within.
Shiera unconsciously tightened her grip on the sword's hilt.
A woman stood in the doorway.
Long black hair. It fell past her shoulders, reaching midway down her back—lusterless, yet possessed of a strange calm. Her skin was pale, with little color. Her eyes were deep brown. They held a gentle light, yet one whose depths could not be seen.
She appeared to be in her mid-twenties. But a witch's apparent age meant nothing.
She wore a plain long-sleeved cotton garment and a worn navy skirt that reached the floor. Around her neck was a well-used gray cloth. She looked like any ordinary woman from any village.
"...Welcome."
Arche looked at Shiera and tilted her head just slightly.
Her voice was neither low nor high—a quiet voice.
"A traveler, I take it. You look quite tired."
Shiera didn't answer.
She fixed her gray eyes on Arche.
*This woman is Arche.*
*Theresia's daughter.*
Nothing could be read from her appearance. And still no trace of a witch's presence. She was perfectly disguised as a human.
"...So you're Arche."
Shiera asked in a low voice.
"That's right. I'm Arche."
*I.*
That first-person pronoun caught strangely on Shiera's ear.
*"I," from a woman.*
She had a woman's form, yet used "I." But among the witches Shiera knew, there were those with unusual speech patterns. That wasn't the issue.
"It's cold. Come in. I can at least make some tea."
Arche said this and stepped back from the doorway.
Then she glanced briefly at the sword on Shiera's back.
"...That sword looks heavy. You should set it aside before you come in. It's a small house—if you keep it on your back, you might catch it on the door."
At those words, Shiera's brow furrowed faintly.
*She sees the sword and doesn't flinch.*
*A stranger armed with a weapon arrives, and she turns her back, offering to make tea.*
Shiera's wariness deepened.
"...I don't need tea. If you'll hear what I have to say, I'll leave immediately after."
"Don't say that. It must have been hard getting here. I can't send a guest who's come to my home away without even offering tea."
Arche spoke quietly, but in a tone that brooked no argument.
Then she turned her back on Shiera and retreated into the earthen-floored entryway.
*She turned her back.*
*On someone who could point a sword at her.*
For an instant, Shiera considered drawing Luminous, then thought better of it.
*Striking her down here would be meaningless.*
*I came to talk to this woman.*
Shiera exhaled slowly and stepped through the doorway.
---
Inside, the house was dim—and surprisingly tidy.
Beyond the earthen entryway was a plank-floored living room. A small hearth burned with a weak fire. Dried vegetables and herbs hung from the walls, and unglazed pottery was neatly arranged on wooden shelves.
It was a humble space, but clean—one that spoke of careful, deliberate living.
"Sit. I'll boil some water."
Arche poured water from a pitcher into an iron kettle by the hearth.
Shiera remained standing in a corner of the room.
She couldn't bring herself to lower the sword from her back.
"Standing, are you? ...Well, fine. Suit yourself."
Arche smiled faintly without turning around.
The hearth fire lit her profile in orange.
Watching that profile, Shiera thought:
*I can
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