Charlotte's Fairytale Ch. 08

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Castle visit: meeting a match for Charlotte.
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Part 8 of the 11 part series

Updated 10/31/2022
Created 11/03/2013
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Many thanks to Linda62953 to help me to present this story better.

Chapter 8: Castle Visit

Walking up the road toward the castle, Charlotte felt light headed. Had the mending of Eveline's dress drained her so hard that her head was swimming? Or was it the set of spells she had used earlier during the day? She'd felt totally fine during lunch, otherwise she wouldn't have tried something with the dress. Still, the sunlight between the trees was not as it should be. The road felt longer than expected, something was strange here. Charlotte could not put her finger on it, as if the whole place was trying to reject her, but wasn't succeeding in it.

She pushed on, and after another sharp turn, she could see rocks above her. They continued into the walls of the castle. The castle itself was not that big, however, it was still intimidating to look at from down here. Someone on the battlements could easily throw stones on this road, and with the difference in height those would be deadly. However, she could not see anyone, and continued walking up the road to the gate.

The single tower of this castle loomed overhead, and Charlotte noticed something strange about this building. There were trees growing close to it, and vines were covering the rocks near its base. But those never grew onto the stone of the building itself. Someone was very diligent in removing them or, what was more likely; they could not get a grip on the walls. She stepped off the steep road close to the castle, and climbed onto the rocks there.

It always made her feel vigorous to move over those rocks, like the chamois she had seen darting along the deep mountains faces. Quickly, she climbed toward the wall above her. In this area, the rocks were not hard to scale. She placed a hand on the wall, and felt the tingling of power through it. Now she had some answer to her trouble on the road; powerful spells had been used in this area before and now, they were messing with her senses.

Though the spell was certainly years old, it was still lingering there. It did not felt alien to her though. It was even similar to the one she had used on the dress before, but far more powerful. There had been a witch here, who had wanted to protect the place with all her might. Charlotte knew most of the witch's cabins in the mountains had protection spells cast on them. Never cast at the time they were built, but they were usually cast during a heavy storm during the remaining part of the year. By that time, the witch living there was doubting if her handiwork would hold up against the elements.

But why a castle on a mountain needed this kind of protection was beyond Charlotte. Average men could not have posed much of a threat to such a building anyway. Certainly not when an active witch of this power was inside it. There had been a magical battle here, of this she was sure. However, those were extremely rare, nobody, in their right mind, would try to battle with a witch in her home. There were stories of wars in which witches had fought. One reason that witches lived away from people was, that those wars had been far more devastating than wars without their participation.

She climbed back to the road, and walked the last few steps to the portal. It was a large wooden double door that would allow horses and wagons through, with a smaller door set in the left one. A big portcullis could be lowered on the outside of the whole door. This was a castle that was built to withstand an army. She used the knocker, which was fastened to the smaller door. The wood of the whole thing enhanced the sound. She could even hear a quick echo of her knock.

A man in a leather cuirass and a metal helmet opened the door. He looked like he had grown around his waist lately, because his cuirass did not fit him well. He smiled and declared, "Hello lady, we do not often have the pleasure to welcome unknown women here at castle Roden. My name is Bill Wells, I'm a guard of Lord Crawford."

Charlotte was quite content with that, she had thought she would have to persuade the guards to let her in. "I am Charlotte Cartwright, nice to meet you. I am seeking an audience with Patrick Crawford."

Bill started to open the door further, when another guard walked up. "What are you doing Bill? You know you cannot let strangers in, just because they ask nicely."

Bummer, there also were less-nice guards on duty. A far more skinny guard pushed Bill aside, to block the now wide open door. "Sorry woman, you certainly don't have an invitation, so back away."

This was worse than meeting the skinny guard directly; he was already in a defensive mood. "Why not let me enter, dear guard? I am sure Lord Crawford likes an occasional surprise visit of a mysterious woman."

"You can say that," was Bill's response, "Hey Charlie, just let them decide about it."

"And let them say that I did a bad job at the gates? Not during my shift." No, Charlie had taken a standpoint, and would be hard pressed to change it.

Charlotte had a backup plan, and a victim to use it on. She was not intimidated by Charlie, especially since he was rude to the more elegant Bill. He would not move away from the door, or she could step inside easily, so she moved closer to him. "Charlie, do you never fantasize about a dark woman standing in front of your door, seeking to stay, desperately?" She stroked his not very impressive torso.

"What has that to do with this?" was his defiant answer. In addition, he pushed her hand aside.

"Oh, I am not desperate; however, I would really like to meet the men here." And she let her fingers slide to the naked skin between his glove and the cuirass. She tried to mimic the spell of Lilah as close as she could, in a gentle touch to his skin.

Charlie pulled his arm away quickly, taking a step back, being slightly intimidated. "Do not try to fool me, woman! Send a message first, and see if the people here are interested in you." His face was now turning red; Charlotte looked over the man to see if she had made him react even more. He was getting flustered while looking at her, which amused Charlotte a lot, it even made her strike a pose inside the door frame.

Now Charlie certainly had an erection, but did not have the proper clothes on for it. Pain was spreading to his reddened face; he hopped from one leg to the other in trying to relieve his burden, but only managed to make it worse. With a yelp, he darted to a door in a wooden building built on the inside of the wall. Bill laughed sheepishly at Charlotte, shrugged and moved away after Charlie, who certainly could use help getting more room in his cuirass.

Now the courtyard was fully accessible for Charlotte, who stepped in. A tingle moved across her skin, another old but unknown ward was still in effect. This place was fascinating! Only people with a sense of spells would notice it, however. There was most definitely a story to be told here.

She walked further inside, to get a better look at the castle. There was a two story main building to her left, built against the tower. Battlements were built along the rest of the wall to allow defenders access to every part of it. A nice touch to it, were the clean clothing and bedding that hung up there, to dry in the wind.

There were a few other wooden buildings here, with one clearly for the guards. A small door near the tower opened in the main building, a tall, and slightly bald man in a black garment walked out of it, looking around. He immediately noticed Charlotte, and walked towards her.

"What is your purpose here, may I ask?" Charlotte felt his aura more than she would have felt with ordinary people. Not only his clothes, but all of him radiated that he was a cleric.

"I am meeting Patrick Crawford; he has to make amends to a lady in town." Charlotte knew that telling the truth in such a situation was often the wisest approach.

"And why do you think that you are the best person to get Patrick to do that? I felt the use of power a moment ago, together with being meddlesome and your black clothes; keep your hands off these people, witch!" The aura of the man flared. "Before long, you will wish you had stayed deep in your cozy mountains."

"Mind your words man; this is not the capital or even a major city. This is far into the mountains away from your cathedrals." Charlotte was surprised that a cleric would even enter a building where a witch had lived within a thousand years. This man had bad senses, or he was as stubborn as those witches he clearly disliked. Likely the latter, as he had felt her contact spell earlier.

"There is a fine chapel here under my care. Not all clerics need huge buildings to back up their claims. I will not lower myself by bickering with a witch. But I warn you, the people here count on me for spiritual help; I will not let them down. You have messed up enough people by now." After that, he walked towards the door again, though his words had been full of confidence, he seemed to be shaken by meeting a witch. He fumbled to get the door open, and hastily closed it again after himself to be away from her.

It seemed that it was not only the first time Charlotte met a cleric, but also his first time meeting a witch. Certainly, he would be seeking strength and guidance in his chapel before coming out again; that suited Charlotte's plans. She walked towards the front door of the large building, and entered it.

An older maid came walking toward the sound. "My name is Petty, how can I help you?"

"Thank you, Petty. I am Charlotte Cartwright, and I am looking for Patrick. Can you bring me to him?"

"Follow me," said Petty walking through a small corridor, and up the stairs at the end of it. On the second floor, she knocked at a door, and was asked inside. "Lord Patrick, a woman called Charlotte is requesting to meet with you."

"Let her in," was the slightly surprised answer. Petty stepped beside the door to let Charlotte enter. She stepped through the door into a room where Patrick was sitting behind a desk, reading a book.

"A pleasure to meet you, what can I help you with?" was the open question.

"I am Charlotte Cartwright. Recently I moved into a house close to the village."

"Oh, I heard Dan was building a house somewhere on the other side of the valley, not somewhere many people want to live. You cannot get heavy goods or animals there easily."

"Yes, however I will trade, with my knowledge of herbs, mostly used for medical help. For that, it is an ideal place. At least it is never heavy to transport."

"It is so nice to have another neighbor with unique skills. However, it is hardly necessary to present yourself to me, when you want to live here. So, what is the reason for your visit?"

"A big part of it is that I like to visit the important places around. This castle certainly is important for the village. Another is that I am asking, if you could help Miss Eveline, she wants to start a business for fabricating clothes, but doesn't have the finances for quality cloth."

"Ah, Eveline, I don't know for sure about her skill. Her dress looked nice, but seemed to be very frail."

"That is more about the cloth than her work on it. She wanted to create a dress to show off her work, but bought cheap cloth to work with. The result still looked really nice, don't you agree?"

"Yes, she certainly caught my eyes with it."

"Well, a merchant just entered the town, and brought a lot of quality cloth. But, he is likely to take it all with him again, if he leaves. Eveline just hasn't anything to spare to trade for it. Moreover, I think she would be very grateful if you could help her. Within a year, she could even return the favor with something of value. She can make really nice clothes. There will be customers enough, when they visit the shop, the smithy, or this castle."

"The value of cloth is not that high for me, she should not bother to pay it back. But what makes you think I should help her?"

"Well, you have an interest in her anyway, so why risk her moving away when things don't work out here. She ought to be pretty enough for someone from a bigger town, or even from a city. You even harmed her potential business by tearing her show piece."

That brought a frown to the face of Patrick, and he stood up near Charlotte. "I see, black clothes, interest in herbs, do you plan on telling everybody what my personal interests are? Certainly interests that involve a young woman and a meadow?"

"Certainly not! I don't mind your interests at all, as long as you are willing to be fair to the people around you. If you want to have secrets, you can keep them. If you want to have fun with women, that's fine, as long as they enjoy themselves too. But also, look after the people you mix with, or your fun will be short lived."

That was a little bolder than Charlotte had planned on being. Patrick had somehow hit a nerve she had not been aware of; her heart was beating faster from the time he stood up. He looked about her age, was slightly taller, with short, curly dark blond hair, and with an innocent look about him, that was in stark contrast with his true nature.

"So, you don't mind secrets and fun. Do you also have secrets? I would think you are a witch with regard to your herbs and your opinions about what other people do wrong. Would it shock you, when I tell you that I am a witch too?"

"Not possible, male witches do not exist, and if they do we call them warlocks. Witches have ways to prevent male children, and the war part of warlocks is all too clear in our history. They played a significant part in any of the wars where witches also played a role in."

"What is so good about women, that they can handle magic better than men? There are many men that wield considerable powers, often also magical. There are enough known magicians, however, no known warlocks."

"Our power is close to that of the fairies, close to nature and is linked with our emotions. When we control our emotions, we can precisely steer it, but, with emotions running wild, our magic does too. It gets more powerful, but also unrestrained. For what I can tell, warlocks cannot control themselves as good as witches, and even we have our troubles, sometimes."

"I don't recall that I did any magic when I was angry. There is a fault to your logic."

"What do you know about it, you cannot be a warlock. If you were a warlock, I would not be here. Our elder sisters are always on the lookout for warlocks, telling every witch to keep a long distance between us and any man who could own witch blood. My mother and aunt would have protested heavily, when I lived near a known warlock."

"Then they are ignorant of it. Have you felt any magic around this castle, and if so, what do you think it is?"

"Yes, there is witchcraft around this castle. I wanted to ask the people here about it."

"That was from my mother, who lived here till 20 years ago."

"Tell me about her, even if she was a witch, what made her leave?"

"Other witches, from what I can tell. Come take a chair, it is a longer story." Charlotte accepted a chair, but Patrick kept standing, he walked around thinking how to start his tale. Then, he made up his mind and started.

"When I was about five years old, I woke during the night in the summer, and heard a storm rage through the mountains. Missing my mother profoundly, I tried looking for her, but could not find her. Her room was empty. Then I heard talking outside of the castle, above the storm and the water gushing down. Probably I felt it more than I heard it with my ears."

"I started walking towards the tower, and climbed its steep stairs. A door to the battlements was open. I could see my mother standing outside; she was soaked in the rain. My mother was begging to the clouds around her. They looked more like two faces than would normally be possible for clouds."

"The faces looked angry, sending sparks from where their eye should have been. 'Beatrice, what did you do, throwing your life away for a filthy man,' said the face, that looked old and somewhat regal, but still a lot younger than the other crone."

"My mother looked young and frail under their gazes. However, their words still inspired defiance in her, 'I love him, and you have no right breaking us apart.' I couldn't bear to stand there, looking at my mother being harassed by the elements, and started to move outside."

"The elder face noticed me before my mother did. She screamed, 'You gave him a son!' The crooked face spat a lighting hitting the castle with a thundering noise; it blinded me completely. All the stones in the castle vibrated with the impact, tearing big chunks from the tower around me."

"The next thing I saw, was my mother plunging down on the stone wall at her feet. With her hands on the ground, she released a force that ran through the stones pushing them together with might. I saw the big rocks turn under the pressure in the walls around me, settling in some new way. Big cracks, which had opened between them, closed up again."

"She then stood up, and looked at me. A brief weary smile ran across her face. She opened her arms widely, like to embrace the whole castle and the area around it. Again, power flowed, but it felt warm on my skin, as if she touched me gently. Then she jumped forwards, and flew away. A sharp gust of wind knocked me on my bottom, deafening my ears with its boom for most of the day. She was gone, and left me feeling empty inside."

"Then, I saw the two big faces looking bewildered, like they were uncertain what they were doing there. They kept looking around, but did not seem to see the things surrounding them. They talked among themselves about finding a rogue witch with a son; getting heated up in their discussion quickly."

"Arguing viciously, and accusing each other, they took off hitting a mountain in their wake. It collapsed in half under their fury. I have never seen them again."

Charlotte was shaking her head in disbelief. She had not heard of witches splitting mountains in two when angered. But from his description, she could put names with the two faces. Therefore, it had to be true.

Gwendolyn the matron of the witches and Samantha the elder had deemed it necessary to visit this place. She had only seen Samantha walk heavily bended, supporting herself with a stick. She had been nice to Charlotte, talking with her more than other witches had done on a visit to Isabel. Other witches often had a sense of urgency around them, which Samantha totally lacked.

"We call it a witch battle, never subtle, never pretty. I am sorry that you have witnessed it and even played a part in it. Those witches cannot find you now. Your mother made certain that you could grow up without all the elder witches around you to monitor any move you make."

"Would they like to do that? I have never hurt anybody. Well, no one more than say, Eveline."

"I don't know, it is just something they feel really strong about. There have been bad times involving warlocks in the past. I am sure they don't exaggerate that it was really bad. I once heard a tale that the mountains around us were raised to prevent a warlock to walk into another country. It may sound silly, however changing the landscape that far would leave multiple countries without any life for years. At least thousands of people would die from it. Many witches ought to be totally desperate to think that such a deed would help."

"Come on, stop it Charlotte. I know some powerful witches were upset about my birth, but why would I ever do something that could endanger whole countries? There is just something wrong with you witches."

"One of them, Gwendolyn, the younger of the two, is the most powerful witch around; just to let you know. She is the matron of all witches living in and near these mountains; you know how big that area is, at least close to a thousand miles long. What was the name of your mother again?"

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