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Harry Potter In The Witcher [73]
🕑 Added 2025-09-24 16:27:08 +0000 UTCShe looked at him, and then down at the ground, a deep, thoughtful frown on her face, clearly thinking hard about the monumental, life-altering offer she had just been given by him.
"I… I want to think on this," she said finally, her voice quiet but firm. "More than just for a few moments, right now. It… it sounds like you're offering me something far more than just simple self-defense training, and I want to make absolutely sure that I make the right choice. For me."
Harry almost smiled at her answer. She was right. Not rushing blindly, headfirst into the unknown… that was a valuable, and often life-saving, quality that many people, even very smart people, did not learn until it was far, far too late. He was also glad that she seemed to truly grasp how serious, how life-changing, this decision was.
"Very well," he said, his voice respectful of her caution. "You have one week. After that, come to me with your final answer. In the meantime," he added, his tone shifting, becoming more authoritative, more like the lord of the city, "please alert the city guards that no civilians are to be allowed to approach the dragon pit, for any reason, without my express, personal say-so. Anyone found doing so will be brought straight to me for questioning. Is that understood?"
Harry commanded, as he sat back down in his chair and looked back at his still-unfinished paperwork.
"Okay," Merri said, a little taken aback by his sudden shift in tone. "Fine. One week." She then turned around and slowly, thoughtfully, walked away. Harry watched her go. He had a strong feeling that this was going to be a very, very long week for her.
………
Asal's POV:
Asal smirked in self-satisfaction as he finished putting the last of his new, simple furniture in his new, simple home. Well, some of it, anyway. The bed, a table, and a few chairs.
He had already used some of his own considerable funds to commission some more intricate, more… fitting pieces from the local craftsmen, furniture that was more befitting of someone of his true station.
For now, though, these rough, but sturdy, pieces would do just fine.
He started moving the last of his heavy, magically-sealed cases from his cart outside and putting them carefully into his home, before giving a few shiny silver pieces to the two strong, local men that had helped him bring it all in.
They smiled, wide, grateful smiles, and thanked him profusely before departing. He smiled a polite, friendly smile back as he watched them go.
It would do, he knew, to endear himself to the locals as much as he possibly could. It would help to cement his status as just another simple, contributing citizen, just in case anything in his Mistress's grand, intricate plan went awry.
So far, though, it seemed to have gone off without a single hitch.
Though, he had to admit, he thought he had been made, that his entire cover had been blown, the very moment he had first come before the so-called "Black Mage." The locals, he had learned, said his name was Harry Potter, though barely any of them actually used it. Most simply, and respectfully, just called him "my lord," as was befitting of a ruler.
When he had looked at the man for the very first time, looked him directly in the eye, Asal had felt, with a terrifying, bone-deep certainty, that all of his secrets, all of his deceptions, had been laid completely bare before this strange, powerful man.
He had had to consciously, forcefully, make sure his own, considerable mental defenses were still up and active, just from that one, single, piercing look he had received.
He had sensed not a single, discernible smidge of raw power coming from the man, even when standing right before him, but he knew, with every fiber of his magically-attuned being, that it was there, lurking just beneath the surface.
One only had to look into the man's impossibly green, ancient eyes to see how truly, terrifyingly powerful he really was. Asal had not been able to stop fidgeting, no matter how hard he had tried, while he had stood before the man.
Luckily, the Black Mage must have been used to people being so incredibly uncomfortable in his presence, and had, thankfully, let him gain citizenship, and even property, here in his strange, impossible city.
And boy, was that nice as well! Free, high-quality property, to live in for as long as you simply gave some sort of contribution, via work, to the city.
And you still earned good money on top of it! Sure, there were taxes, but they were a fair, reasonable percentage, nothing at all like the crippling, often arbitrary, taxes imposed by the various Northern kingdoms. That, in itself, was strange.
As was the question of how, exactly, the Black Mage was financing this massive, and rapidly growing, new kingdom, if he was giving so much away for free, and taking in so little in return? He was sure magic had something to do with it, of course, but no one seemed to know what, exactly, except for the man himself.
So, for now, he was stuck, his curiosity unsatisfied.
Asal shook away his thoughts and went to one of the large, heavy chests he had brought with him. He opened it up and smiled at the familiar, comforting sight of the gleaming, golden stands he saw nestled inside.
He quickly got to work, setting them up in his spare, empty room upstairs, after first making sure that the windows were completely covered, and that his own, powerful magical protections were up and active.
He finally got them all situated correctly and prepared himself. He went over to a small, silver mirror he had set up in the corner of the room and looked at his reflection.
He took a deep, calming breath and closed his eyes. He released the breath after a moment, and then reopened his eyes.
Gone was the unassuming, middle-aged sorcerer with the scruffy, shoulder-length black hair and the slightly broad, forgettable face. In his place, there now stood a tall, graceful elf, with a slightly lighter, almost alabaster, complexion, and the sharp, elegantly pointed ears of his people.
His cheekbones seemed to have risen a ways, and his face had become more narrow, more defined, more… beautiful. He smiled as he looked at his true face, the one he wore without the constant, draining glamour he had been wearing for weeks now.
Once he was finished, he moved back to the complex, intricate megascope he had just finished setting up, and, with a whisper of an incantation, activated it.
He waited for the recipient on the other end to respond, and he got down on his knees as he did so, a gesture of pure, unwavering devotion.
Within a few moments, the various crystals and lenses of the megascope seemed to light up, and they projected a shimmering, life-sized image of a woman into the center of the room. And this was not just any woman.
It was clear, even from her image, that she was of high, noble birth, of immense influence, simply by the exquisite, elegant cut of her clothes. But what really, truly stopped many men in their tracks was her face.
It was beautiful, truly, almost impossibly beautiful, beyond all compare, with not a single, discernible flaw or blemish to be seen. Asal felt like the luckiest man in the entire world, just being able to gaze upon the beautiful, ethereal face of his mistress.
Enid an Gleanna, the Daisy of the Valleys. Or, as she was also known, Francesca Findabair. She was both his Queen, the ruler of the free elves of Dol Blathanna, and she was his beloved Mistress.
She looked down at him, from her projected image, and smiled, a gentle, radiant smile, a smile which, he was sure, caused his devoted heart to skip a beat.
