The Queen of Scrolls never admits defeat

Moran put down his teacup, walked to her side, and gently tapped the window with his finger:

"Look over there, what's that?"

Sylvia stood on tiptoe, her nose pressed against the cold glass, and looked in the direction her mother was pointing.

In the distance lies a verdant valley surrounded by mountains.

In the valley, a dozen or so animal skin tents dyed in blue, purple and gold are scattered about, like giant flowers suddenly blooming on the earth.

Colorful woven blankets were drying between the tents, and wisps of smoke rose from several stone stoves.

What's even more eye-catching are the figures of people moving around between the tents.

They were muscular and strong, with skin a deep bronze color from years of exposure to the wind and sun. Their faces were painted with intricate blue, purple, and gold patterns using natural mineral pigments, some resembling lightning branches, others like winding vines.

Almost everyone wore light armor made of tanned animal hides, carried longbows and quivers, and had short knives or hand axes hanging at their waists.

What's most eye-catching are the lightning wolves flanking them.

They have fur that is a mix of silver-grey and dark blue, with a bright golden stripe running from the top of their head to the tip of their tail. They either lie quietly at their owner's feet or stroll slowly.

Occasionally, tiny blue sparks of electricity would leap from their claws or ear tips, making a soft "crackling" sound.

Just as Sylvia was watching, an exceptionally strong lightning wolf suddenly raised its head, its golden eyes precisely locking onto the direction of the aerial castle.

It let out a low growl, its voice deep and resonant like distant thunder.

Several Tatayyas who were wiping their weapons by the tent immediately looked up and put their hands on the weapons at their waists.

"These are... Tatalies? Have we arrived?" Sylvia's voice trembled slightly, a mixture of nervousness and excitement.

“We’ve arrived.” Moran’s voice was calm and gentle. “And it seems we’ve already attracted their attention.”

The castle did not fly directly into the center of the valley, but began to descend slowly on a flat grassy area near the hillside.

This distance was neither too intrusive into the Tatali people's living space nor too far from allowing them to see the entire castle.

The deep humming sound startled the entire valley.

More Tatali people emerged from their tents, gazing up at the enormous, uninvited castle.

The children were pulled behind their mothers, their little faces filled with curiosity rather than fear. The soldiers quickly huddled together, forming a loose defensive formation, their hands on their weapons, their eyes sharp as eagles.

But there was no panic, no screaming.

These nomadic peoples, who live year-round in the mountains and amidst thunderstorms, displayed astonishing composure.

They looked up to observe the castle's structure, assessing the potential threats it posed, neither rushing to attack nor easily retreating.

“Sylvia,” Moran’s voice rang out in the quiet grocery store, gentle yet firm, “open the door to welcome customers.”

Sylvia took a deep breath, wiped her hands on the hem of her dress, and then quickly ran to the counter.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she pressed the brass wrench, but she pushed it down without hesitation.

"Click."

A smooth, mechanical whirring sound filled the air.

The wall outside the counter begins to recede and fold back, revealing an outward-extending wooden porch.

The sign above slowly drooped down, its magical glow clearly visible in the morning light—Witch's General Store.

The moment the sign lit up, the atmosphere in the valley subtly changed. The Tatar warriors, who had been tense and gripping their weapons, visibly softened their expressions when they saw the word "witch."

Several mothers who had been protecting their children behind them loosened their grip on each other's hands.

Even the restless Thunder Wolves sensed the change in their master's attitude, stopped growling, and instead tilted their heads curiously, looking into the shop.

Since the Dawn Society spread card magic throughout the continent of Valen, making it a necessity for every spellcaster and even ordinary people, the witch race has held an extremely special position in Valen.

They are the most dangerous beings to mess with. If you offend any one of them, your entire clan will be implicated, causing card prices to rise and even stripping you of the right to use cards.

But they are also the most reputable group; witches will not intentionally harm any intelligent race.

More importantly, the witches have the most comprehensive and cheapest card shop. You can buy cards that are not normally available from them, and they won't overcharge you.

One of the Talita warriors, whose face was painted the most elaborately and who had a pale gold old scar on his left cheek, took two steps forward.

He raised his right hand, palm facing forward.

It was a common "stop" and "inquiry" gesture, but the posture had shifted from wariness to cautious contact.

The Thunder Wolf beside him also stepped forward, its golden eyes fixed on the porch, while its tail swayed slightly in a relaxed manner.

Sylvia held her breath.

She glanced at her mother. Moran simply smiled and nodded at her, her eyes saying, "Go on, little shopkeeper, your customer has arrived!"

Sylvia took a deep breath, wiped non-existent sweat from the hem of her dress, climbed onto the high stool next to the counter, and picked up a small megaphone from the drawer.
"Hello, friends of Tatali! Welcome to the Witch's General Store! We are witches traveling in a moving castle and will be staying here for three days. You are welcome to come in and make your purchases!"

Although she tried her best to sound calm, she was only a little witch of three years old, and her voice still had a childish quality.

A glint of curiosity flashed in the eyes of the Tatar warriors outside the door.

They had seen witches on their travels before, but they were all adult witches who passed by on broomsticks or flying carpets. This little witch who came in a moving castle was someone they had never seen before.

But children are always more likely to make people lower their guard.

Talilo turned his head and said something to the person behind him. Talilo's syllables were sharp and resonant, like stones clashing.

Then he took two steps forward and stopped three steps in front of the porch.

His gaze burned as he looked at the cards on the shelves inside the door, but when he saw Sylvia behind the counter, he was completely relieved.

She is a real witch, though she is just a tiny little one.

However, since witches love their children so much, it's impossible that there wasn't an adult witch with them. He took another step forward and, sure enough, saw a purple-haired witch sitting by the window behind the counter.

"The Witch's General Store?"

Taliro’s Common Tongue has a noticeable accent, but it is clear enough.

Sylvia nodded vigorously, her heart pounding like a drum:

"Yes! They're all level 5 or higher cards, like healing potions and stuff. Would you like to come in and take a look? It's okay if you don't buy anything, just looking is free!"

Taliro was silent for two seconds.

Then, he suddenly twitched the corner of his mouth, which was probably a smile, though it was made somewhat rugged by the paint and scars on his face.

"Okay! Then... let's take a look."

Tarillo lifted his foot and went inside. (End of Chapter)