Witch Training Manual: My Water Magic Is Wrong

When Wayne released his grip, Sophie's breathing hadn't calmed down yet.

She kept her head down, her fingers gripping the hem of her skirt.

"Okay," Wayne said.

Sophie didn't move.

"Go back and drink more water, and don't overwork yourself these next few days."

Sophie nodded, swayed slightly as she stood up, then steadied herself by holding onto the window frame. She pushed open the door and hurried out, her steps quick and hurried.

As she passed through the main hall, several worshippers glanced at her. She lowered her head and quickened her pace, as if she were hiding from something.

At the church entrance, the carriage was still parked at the foot of the stone steps. She bent down, crawled inside, closed the door, and leaned against the carriage wall to catch her breath.

The coachman asked from outside, "Miss, are we going back to the manor?"

"Um."

The carriage started moving.

After boarding the train, Sophie first looked at her outfit. She covered herself with her hand, then thought it was unnecessary, as she was the only one in the carriage. She pulled her skirt down a little; the fabric felt cool against her skin.

Not long after.

The driver's voice came from outside.

"Miss, we've arrived."

Sophie snapped out of her daze, pushed open the car door and jumped out, almost running while lifting her skirt.

She encountered her mother as she entered through the main gate.

"You're back?"

"Um."

Sophie lowered her head and walked past her mother.

"What did the bishop say?"

"Drink more water and don't overwork yourself."

Celine glanced at her; her daughter's face was abnormally red, burning from her ears all the way down to her neck.

"Sophie".

"Um?"

Are you alright?

"It's okay, I'm going back to my room to rest."

Sophie said she was going back to her room to rest.

But at this moment, having changed into a dress, it's no wonder she can't rest.

She planned to use the remaining time to properly thank the goddess.

……

After Sophie left, Wayne sat in the confessional for a while.

The panel was still hanging in front of me, not yet dissipated.

[Wiggins Kingdom Clothing Science: Underwear Edition]

It's no secret that upper-class women in this world generally don't wear underwear; it's a tradition that's been going on for centuries. Noble ladies believe that truly fine things don't need extra support; their dresses are works of art in themselves.

[Note: Sophie's dress today is quite expensive. It's imported Lycra, a fabric known for its transparency; it becomes transparent when wet. When walking, the fabric shows no signs of movement; only when you stop and get close can its beauty be revealed.]

[P.S.: An extra element just appeared. Not many, but enough to clearly define the shape of the petticoat. She clearly noticed it too. That's why she walked so quickly.]

Wayne looked down at his hands.

Three-drug.

Water magic can heal, and it can also penetrate clothing. The former is a blessing from the goddess, and the latter... is probably also a blessing from the goddess, only the direction of the blessing is different.

Just as holy water can exorcise demons and bathe, sacred texts can be used for prayer and as table legs. The goddess creates things, each with its own purpose. As for the matter of clothes being see-through, the gods have their reasons.

He pushed open the side door and walked into the courtyard.

Vera jogged over from the direction of the main hall, clutching an envelope in her hand. The envelope was grayish-brown, sealed with the seal of the Church of Audrian, and the sealing wax had dried completely, with some cracks at the edges.

"Your Excellency," Vera handed over the letter, "someone just delivered it. A man on horseback, dressed very plainly, said it was sent by the old Bishop of Adrian, on urgent."

Wayne took it.

The handwriting on the envelope was Charman's, crooked and hastily written. He tore open the seal, pulled out the letter inside, which was only one page, filled on both sides.

The letter was very short.

[Wien, my dearest friend:]

The messenger died. I sent another one, taking a longer route, via a small path to the north; he should arrive two days earlier than the paladin.

The church has sent people. Not ordinary priests, but the Holy Knights. Seven people, led by Lancelot, a fourth-tier expert who has fought against demonic tides and slain barbarians. They've been waiting for you in Aldrian for four days and are now setting off. At their pace, they'll arrive in Frost Town soon.

You either run or hide. Don't fight the paladins head-on. You're no match for them, and neither am I.

By the way, let me tell you something. Someone high up is watching you, not the Pope, but someone even higher up. I don't know who it is, but anyone who can get the Pope to personally intervene can't be a nobody.

They want your body. I don't mean "take you back," I mean "body" literally.

Charman.

Wayne turned the letter over.

There is only one line of text on the back.

May the goddess bless you. Although I'm not quite sure what she's blessing you with lately.

Wayne folded the letter and tucked it into his pocket.

Charman is indeed a decent man, though he was a bit reckless in his youth, but such a person doesn't deserve to die. Besides, keeping him alive might prove surprisingly useful.

After some thought.

Wayne plans to send him the relevant life-saving potion.

Thomason was summoned by Vera.

He had probably just come from the front yard; his shoes were still muddy, and he wiped his hands on the hem of his clothes before stopping in front of Wayne.

"Your Excellency, you wanted to see me?"

Wayne took out six small porcelain bottles from his pocket and placed them in a row on the stone table. The bottles were small, each one could be held in the palm of his hand, and the green glaze shimmered with a warm light in the morning sun.

Thomason's gaze fell on the bottles, but he didn't ask what they were, waiting for Wayne to speak.

"These six bottles of medicine," Wayne said, "are divided into three portions of two bottles each, and three people are to deliver them to Audrian."

Thomason nodded.

"Who should I give it to?"

"Bishop Charman, just say it was given to him by Bishop Wayne of Frosttown, he'll understand."

Thomason didn't ask what the medicine was for, nor did he ask why it needed to be delivered by three people.

"My lord, when shall we depart?"

"today."

Thomason responded and bent down to collect the porcelain bottles. He moved very gently, placing each bottle into his pocket one by one, pressing it down with his hand after each one to make sure it was secure before removing it.

"Did you specify anyone?" he asked.

"No. Find someone trustworthy."

"Don't worry, sir, I'll take care of it right away."

"Wait a minute." Wayne pulled another cloth bag from his sleeve, untied the drawstring, counted out 15 Viking shields, and pushed it over. "This is for travel expenses. Five shields each for three people. Tell them the letter has been delivered, and there will be a reward."

Thomason put the money away, turned to leave, but then stopped.

"grown ups."

"Um?"

"Um... have you heard about the Seven Holy Knights?"

Wayne glanced at Thomason. This doorman had been with him for some time; he was efficient, tight-lipped, and never ambiguous about what he shouldn't ask.

"You've heard?"

"People in town are saying," Thomason lowered his voice by half an octave, "that people from the capital have arrived to investigate some case. I don't know if it's related to you, but something just doesn't seem right."

Wayne didn't respond.

Thomason didn't ask any more questions.

"Then I'll go mail the letter first." He picked up the bottles, wrapped them in a cloth, and turned to leave.

After Thomason left, Wayne sat on the stone bench for a while.

It seems the paladins have made quite a show of themselves.

As for Charman, if even the three of them couldn't deliver it, it means the goddess doesn't intend to protect him anymore.

He picked up the teacup and drank it all in one gulp.