The Tin Knight-Chapter 1: The Witch and The Tin Knight ()

For Dorothea, an apprentice witch living in a small forest in the eastern part of the continent, carrying out her teacher’s unreasonable instructions was almost a daily occurrence.

She had nearly died searching for herbs in a forest full of poisonous vapors, faced off against a bear armed with nothing but a wooden staff, and spent three sleepless days and nights to prevent evil spirits from escaping a barrier.

Whenever Dorothea complained about these unbearable hardships, her teacher would look at her with disdain and say, “Tsk tsk, you foolish girl. You’re whining over just that? When I was your age, I was forced to do far worse.”

Nothing irritated young people more than an old person’s “When I was your age” talk.

Dorothea tried to argue with her teacher, citing the changing times and individual aptitudes, but her teacher’s response was always the same.

“If you don’t like it, quit being my apprentice. The way out is that way.”

Faced with her teacher waving her off dismissively, Dorothea, the weak, pitiful, and unlucky beautiful young girl—self-proclaimed—could only swallow her frustration.

The difference between “the apprentice of a great witch” and “a former apprentice kicked out by a great witch” was too immense to bear.

For the sake of her future job prospects, Dorothea would do whatever it took to get a proper graduation certification from this ill-tempered teacher.

Bear with it.

Just bear with it a little longer.

If I can just endure this and graduate, surely a rosy life awaits me!

With the same mindset as a student who mistakenly believed a fun college life awaited them after enduring the hell that was college entrance exams, Dorothea bore countless hardships.

“Hey, you need to head to the royal capital in my stead.”

Perhaps it was because of this repetitive life.

When she first heard those words from her teacher, Dorothea unconsciously thought, “Ah, this time it’s something a bit more doable.”

At least the destination wasn’t a troll’s nest deep in some mountain, but a bustling city. It was a clear example of how one’s standards could become skewed after hitting rock bottom.

“The royal capital, you say? What am I supposed to do there?”

“Meet the king and run some errands for him. That brat keeps summoning me, and it’s annoying as hell.”

Dorothea didn’t bother asking the reasonable question of whether it was appropriate to address the king as “brat”.

After all, reasonable questions were only meaningful when directed at those with reason.

Her teacher was a witch who was anything but reasonable.

Instead, Dorothea asked something else, “The king summoned you, Teacher. Isn’t it meaningless if I go in your stead?”

No, beyond being meaningless, it might even anger the king.

If asked whether she feared the king’s anger or her teacher’s anger more, Dorothea would undoubtedly answer her teacher’s, but that didn’t mean the king’s anger was any less frightening.

“It doesn’t matter who shows up. All that brat wants is someone to fulfill his request.”

“If it’s something that requires your personal attention, I doubt I could handle it.”

Dorothea didn’t respect her teacher’s character, but she fully acknowledged her monstrous skills—as well as her notorious reputation.

If anything, any matter that would require summoning a witch with the ominous moniker of “Queen of the Dead” was bound to be far from trivial.

Her teacher didn’t deny it either.

“Indeed, it’s not something that can be solved easily. It will surely involve a lot of trouble. But that’s what makes it worthwhile.”

“Worthwhile in what way?”

“A graduation exam that’s too simple wouldn’t be meaningless, don’t you think?”

Dorothea’s body stiffened

“You’re nearly of age now. Isn’t it about time you became independent?”

Her teacher smiled as she looked at her disciple’s reaction.

It was a rare, kind, and gentle smile.

“Now, show me what you’ve got, my apprentice.”

Dorothea nodded.

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***The light of an anglerfish flickering in the deep sea was bright.

The scent of a carnivorous plant luring its prey was sweet.

The voice of a demon tempting its contractor was unmatched in its cunning.

If that were the case for all of these, surely the danger of a “benevolent offer” extended by a wicked witch needed no further explanation.

The price for forgetting what kind of person her teacher was turned out to be terrifyingly dire.

“Damn, that teacher...! That wicked witch deserves to fall and die in a bubbling cauldron!”

Dorothea gritted her teeth.

And as if even such complaints were a luxury, a sharp dagger grazed just past her eye.

Deflecting the dagger aimed at her neck with her trusty wooden staff, Dorothea started muttering a short incantation, drawing up her mana.

As spheres imbued with dark and ominous energy spread out radially, the persistent shower of daggers momentarily ceased, as if surprised by the sudden counterattack.

Seizing this sudden opportunity, Dorothea dashed forward.

In hindsight, there were plenty of ominous signs from the very beginning.

The king’s scowl, as if he’d bitten into a bug, upon seeing a mere apprentice instead of the renowned “Wicked Witch of the East”.

The chancellor’s warm welcome in contrast to the king, explaining the purpose of her summons in a gentle voice.

An elaborate “royal decree” to recover eight lost treasures of the kingdom, yet those who came along as so-called support showed little interest in future plans—oddly suggesting she go sightseeing instead.

It didn’t add up. It simply wasn’t rational.

Like a puppet show with its order jumbled, everything on the stage was out of sync.

Dorothea had no interest in politics.

The king’s ambition to restore the kingdom’s glory and the nobles’ desire to live quietly without unnecessarily provoking other countries were equally worthless to her.

So she dared to escape.

If she stayed with those “so-called support” and enjoyed a sightseeing tour, her body would surely be comfortable, but the final exam her teacher had set was “to complete the king’s errand”, and for that, she needed to move separately.

Dorothea was pragmatic.

However, it seemed rationality didn’t sit well with someone.

That was why Dorothea now found herself being chased by unidentified pursuers in the dead of night.

“Haah, haah.”

Dorothea breathed heavily.

Her skin was covered in small wounds, and her black witch’s robe was soiled with dirt and dust.

Accustomed to carrying out her ill-tempered teacher’s instructions, she was familiar with such chases, and thus realized her current predicament was utterly grim.

The number of enemies was unclear, and she had no allies to rely on.

Her mana reserves were still plentiful, overflowing even, but she lacked the proper means to utilize it effectively.

Unlike her teacher, who was a legendary necromancer, Dorothea, still in the learning process, had limitations to the magic she could perform with just her body and staff.

Worse, she had used up most of her reagents and magic tools while fleeing, leaving her with only a handful of resources.

She could almost hear her teacher clicking her tongue in disapproval.

— Tsk tsk, didn’t I tell you to always keep a few undead around? They’re good as meat shields, useful for menial tasks, and they’re convenient labor that never complains no matter how much you slave drive them. Why are you so disgusted by them?

Of course, this advice was worthless to Dorothea, who had once thoughtlessly taken two skeleton soldiers with her to go shopping as a child, throwing the village into chaos.

If she had done such a thing in the middle of the royal capital, her physical life might have been guaranteed, but her social life would have certainly met its end.

Ignoring her teacher’s unhelpful hallucination, Dorothea wandered through the forest for a while until she caught sight of a strange structure

“...A castle?”

A glimmer of curiosity appeared in Dorothea’s eyes.

The gray castle, standing alone in the dense forest, was an alien presence.

The high castle walls and massive gates stood as symbols of a prosperous past, but even their grandeur was dulled by the domination of green moss and vines.

At best, one might generously describe it as “a once-prosperous but now completely old ruin”.

While Dorothea was rich in magical knowledge befitting a witch, historical knowledge was a different matter.

Among the teachings she received from her teacher, there was nothing about the identity of an abandoned castle in a forest on the outskirts of the royal capital.

...If she were being rational, it would be wiser to flee to a place less accessible to people rather than search such a conspicuous location.

But Dorothea, who had overcome many hardships since childhood, knew one thing.

There were moments when intuition trumped reason.

Her intuition was telling her.

Go investigate that castle immediately.

Inside the half-rotten, crumbling castle gate was pitch darkness.

Dorothea tore open one of the leather pouches attached to her belt and rubbed its contents on the head of her staff.

The powder, made from ground insects that hovered near graves, responded to the mana in the staff, emitting a soft glow.

The condition of the castle’s interior, hidden in darkness, was difficult to describe as good even as a white lie.

Walls and floors were broken everywhere, and traces of looting were prevalent, suggesting many others had come and gone before her.

Having anticipated this since seeing the tattered castle gate, Dorothea wasn’t particularly discouraged.

Instead, she untied another leather pouch and poured its contents onto the floor.

The oil extracted from mice bubbled up, and after a moment, a translucent, bubble-like mouse was born.

The bubble mouse twitched its nose as if it were sniffing before scurrying off somewhere within the castle.

Dorothea followed closely behind.

The bubble mouse was persistently circling a certain point on the castle floor.

When Dorothea struck that part with the end of her staff, a hollow sound echoed.

There was definitely a hidden space below.

The problem was how to enter, but Dorothea had no intention of pondering it for long.

A witch valued wisdom—but was not bound by it.

Oftentimes, simplicity was the ultimate truth.

Dorothea, without hesitation, raised her staff and brought down a mana-imbued strike upon the ground.

CRASH!

The blow, fueled by the frustration accumulated from the chase, shattered the floor beautifully.

Quietly, Dorothea began to descend the stairs that finally revealed themselves.

At the end of the stairs was an underground storage room.

Unlike other parts of this castle, this place seemed untouched by previous visitors, having little to no human presence.

Of course, this also meant it was left untouched by caretakers.

Rising dust. Crackling books. Rusted equipment.

The faint magic circuits left on the walls and ceiling indicated that preservation magic had once been cast here, but even that seemed to have expired decades prior.

Just as Dorothea was about to be discouraged, thinking there might be nothing useful here...

The bubble mouse darted toward “something” tucked in the corner of the room.

Dorothea looked at that “something”.

That “something” had arms and legs made of metal.

That “something” had a cold and lifeless body.

That “something” was wrapped in a cloak that looked like a ragged mat.

Looking at that “something” that at first glance appeared to be an abandoned suit of armor, Dorothea muttered, “A magic doll? Did its previous owner abandon it?”

In the world of magic, the servants that mages, witches, and the like use to assist them were called familiars.

While wizards had spirits, alchemists had homunculi, and necromancers had undead as class-specific familiars, the magic doll Dorothea found was a type of familiar used widely across various classes for its versatility.

They were created by settling an artificial soul into a vessel that easily conducted mana. Due to their low intelligence, they couldn’t follow complex commands, but they were easy to control, making them popular among beginners.

The doll before her eyes looked so ancient that even Dorothea, who had learned various things from her teacher, couldn’t guess when it was made. However, the circuits themselves seemed intact, so it might still be salvageable.

Dorothea didn’t ponder for long.

As she placed her hand on its chest and slowly poured in mana, the silent magic doll’s appearance began to change little by little.

The rust that had stained various parts of its metallic body flaked off, and small scratches were smoothed over.

It looked as if a dying life was blooming anew.

Dorothea frowned.

The doll was consuming far more mana than she had expected.

Even Dorothea, who had been praised by her teacher for her abundant mana reserves, started to feel strained.

“Is its efficiency poor because it’s old?”

Rationally thinking, it would have been wiser to quickly remove her hand, but at this point, Dorothea’s stubbornness kicked in.

Determined to see it through with the mindset of “let’s see who wins”, Dorothea continued to pour in mana.

“Success!”

At last, when the final traces of rust left the doll’s body, Dorothea unconsciously struck a victory pose.

If her teacher had seen it, she would have clicked her tongue, saying it was unladylike behavior.

Perhaps because she had used up almost all her mana for the first time in a while, her head was spinning.

“Hey, check this out over here! Did you search this passage too?”

It was right then that bustling noises and the presence of others began to be felt from above.

Dorothea inwardly clicked her tongue at the bad timing.

Originally, she should have proceeded with casting and settling an artificial soul before establishing a master-servant contract, but no matter how she thought about it, it seemed the enemies would find her faster than she could finish that lengthy process.

The only silver lining was that with only one entrance, it wasn’t a bad environment for facing multiple opponents.

As Dorothea gripped her staff, fighting off dizziness...

Vwoom.

Suddenly, a light emanating from a brooch hanging near the magic doll’s waist hit Dorothea’s body.

With a click, the sensation of something connecting flashed through Dorothea’s mind.

Before Dorothea could react, a mysterious message echoed in her head.

[The ‘Tin Knight’ has awakened from his long slumber!]