Ryubence has a minion!

Don't touch the Bitabook

I woke up to the smell of my own blood and the unpleasant feeling of my flesh and bones knitting themselves back together. My body felt clammy and heavy, my mouth and throat were uncomfortably parched, and my now-torn clothing did little to protect me from the chill winds. No matter how many times one dies and gets resurrected, one never does quite adjust to the sensation... In any case, it seemed that my attempted suicide had been prevented once more.

"Again?"

I cracked open a dry eye and looked up at my master, Purple Peel, glaring down at me- or what I could see of her through my blood-matted hair. A familiar sight, although it appeared that Lavi, her energetic little apprentice, tagged along today as well. How wonderful.

"Hey, she's back! Haha, you really busted yourself up good this time, Ryu!" Lavi laughed as she crouched down to look at me and prod me with her cutesy pink wand. "Next time you jump off a mountain, at least let me be there to watch!"

I sighed.

"Quiet, you!" Purple Peel snapped. Lavi quickly stood up straight-- fortunately for her, Purple Peel did not seem to catch Lavi rolling her eyes at the order. Purple Peel let out a frustrated huff and returned her attention to me. "How many times are you going to try this?"

What I wanted to say was "Until you let me stay dead. You have kept me alive for far longer than any witch should live, and I don't want to be your clan's slave anymore", but my voice had not yet returned to me. Instead, I produced a raspy sigh and spat out a mouthful of old blood.

"The contract states that you're bound to serve the Purple Peel clan for all eternity. You have a sworn duty to fulfill. No matter how many times you go and off yourself, we'll bring you back with our clan's secret spell." She folded her strong arms over her chest. "I know that you know that, you damn stupid doll! All you're doing is making more work for the both of us."

"She's got a point, you know," Lavi said, frowning. "Plus, whenever you die and don't come back, I'm always the one who has to go find wherever you decided to kick off this time. So that's trouble for three of us!"

I rolled my head to the side and attempted to acknowledge the words of my master and her apprentice, but all that I managed was a grunt. I knew both of them were right- I have yet to accomplish anything by killing myself- but my soul is worn and weary, and all I want is rest.

"Get up, and go clean yourself up." Purple Peel ordered, her tone cold as ever. Though I had finally regained most of the feeling in my extremities and could likely stand on my own, Lavi reached a hand down to help me to my feet. "You've got a lot of work to do."

It wasn't always this way.

My story begins around 85,000 years ago, when I was a little over 300 years old- a young adult in witch years. I made my home in a modest little northern village in the area that would later come to be called Cinque, and earned a living as a fortune-teller. As you may know, there are many parallel worlds outside of our own. I was born with the incredibly rare ability to peer into those worlds, as well as the gift of seeing into the future and past of this world and the countless worlds beyond. I became something of a sage, and humans and witches alike came from across Medea to seek my assistance.


For even longer than I've been alive, the Purple Peel witch clan has resided in the southern desert of Tettara. They were- and still are to this day- a widely-known and widely-feared clan of witches, infamous for their brutality and their fondness for "collecting" anything rare or valuable. Raids were not an uncommon occurrence, especially in desert camps and wealthy villages. As I looked into my own future one day, I saw unfamiliar witches burning my village to the ground and killing those who couldn't flee quickly enough... but as my abilities had not yet been honed, I was unsure when they would arrive. However, I also knew that we wouldn't stand a chance against them if we tried to fight.

I told the chief of my vision, and evacuation orders were quickly spread. We were urged to leave as quickly as possible. Some fled that night, while others stayed behind to collect up their belongings and prepare for the journey ahead. I packed a bag with my most important possessions as well as a few dry goods, a canteen of water, and some spare clothing. But the day had exhausted me, so I foolishly decided to stay for the night, planning instead to leave in the morning.

That was my first mistake.

My recollection of the following day is both a blur and yet clear as day. Perhaps I've tried to block it from my memory...

I remember the sounds of screaming and a witch's rough voice barking something in a language that I couldn't understand. The walls and floor of my home burst into flames, and I quickly grabbed my bag and staggered through the smog, trying to get out before the burning roof collapsed on top of me. Another mistake; I should have stayed inside and let the fire take me. It's clear to me now that they were trying to smoke me out, and I played right into it.

I made it outside and was greeted by the scent of smoke and death. Everything was on fire, bodies- just pieces of them, in some cases- littered the ground, and the few remaining escape routes that I could make out had been blocked off by witches holding strange spears. I was terrified. I knew that the Purple Peel clan was coming, but I hadn't imagined that they would arrive so soon... And not even the gift of foresight truly prepares you for experiencing that sort of destruction and bloodshed firsthand.

Before I could run, I heard a shout and was thrown to the ground by a strong blast of wind. One of the spear-wielding witches, presumably the one who cast the wind spell, ran over to shove the club-like blade of her weapon against my chest to pin me to the dirt. Not that I would have moved anyway; I was frozen with fear at that point. She called over her shoulder to her colleagues.

I found myself flanked by a second witch as a third approached. Very tall, very muscular, and wearing a dragonbone headdress marked with red war paint, she projected an imposing figure. The first two witches bowed their heads and said something to her-- she was their chief, most likely. I remember thinking, "This is where I die", and part of me wished that I was right. Instead, my naive mind clung desperately to survival, and I attempted to beg them to let me live, despite the evidence pointing to the contrary. All that came out was a feeble "please", but it was enough to catch the masked witch's attention.

She lifted her skull mask and peered down at me. I still remember the way she looked at me for the first time-- the long scar running across her right eye, the way her golden eyes seared through mine; the feeling of sheer scorn and cruelty gnawing at my bones.


"Are you Ryubence?"

Spoken in the common witch tongue I was used to, I was caught off-guard and almost didn't understand her. My "yes" was barely a whisper, though I tried to nod my head. I wanted to look away, but I feared that if I broke her gaze, the spear bearing down on me would shatter my bones for showing disrespect.

"Speak up!", she ordered. The first witch's spear pressed harder against my chest.

I choked out a "Yes!", as clear as I could muster. My voice trembled and my lungs burned with ash, and my eyes remained locked with hers. She had such an authority and intimidating presence that I wasn't sure if I could look away; it was as if I were spellbound.

Her eyes narrowed in approval. "I've heard of your ability to look into parallel worlds. My clan could make use of that power..." She studied me for a moment in a manner not unlike a lion sizing up its prey. "I would kill you, but it almost seems a waste to destroy something this rare. So I've got an offer for you, girl: Serve our clan, or die here." She angled her own bloody spear towards my face, and I remember feeling like my heart was going to stop. "The choice is yours." Of course they were here looking for me. It should have been obvious. We were not a rich village by any means, nor were we close to their territory-- why else would they have come? How could I have made such an oversight?

At some point, I had started to cry. I agreed to serve them and begged, "Please, I'll do anything, please don't kill me". I was young, I was scared, and I didn't want to die. In retrospect, I should have refused and let them kill me. That would have been a kinder fate than the existence that they cursed me with. Then again, they may have just taken me by force, so perhaps my answer didn’t matter either way... but I digress.

My contract was forged on the spot, and my freedom was taken to bind it.

Tettara desert took some getting used to. I was accustomed to Cinque's mild summers and months of snowfall, and the scorching sands and dry winds of the south were harsh and foreign. Nahat, the oasis town where the Purple Peel clan resided, was moderately more bearable in temperature, though it took me a while to become fluent in the native language. I was given a room in my master's-- the chief's house to use as my study upon my arrival. So began my new life.

Working as a servant for the Purple Peel clan was about as thankless of a job as one would expect. I was tasked with the sole duty to diligently record the past, present, and future of as many parallel worlds as I could. Fieldwork was permitted so long as it was an extension of my primary job, such as making records of magic beasts and various plants. I wasn't allowed any free time, and slacking on my duties was a punishable offense.

The Purple Peel clan chief who forged my contract, my first master, was named Gulnaz. She was a powerful fire witch several centuries my senior, with an exceptionally cruel and merciless nature. A single step out of line, whether I disobeyed orders or the rare occasion where I tried to fight back, and she would... I will spare you the details and say that I have been through all manner of violent punishments.

It didn't matter if she ended up killing me; if I died, she brought me back to life with the clan's secret necromancy spell. If I lost body parts, they were replaced by new ones through magic and alchemy. While I may have been Gulnaz's prized possession, I was still that-- her possession. A puppet to the clan, torn apart and sewn back together, kept in working condition at all times. She was strong enough to crush my bones like kindling if she wished, and sometimes she'd kill me just for something to do. In the thousands of years we spent together, I could count on my hands the number of times she expressed any kindness towards me.

Gulnaz eventually took on an apprentice, and passed me down to her when she aged and retired as chief. This new master was no kinder, nor was the next witch to inherit me, or the next one after that... I have had some masters who were more strict, more aggressive, or more laid-back than others, but I have only ever had one who could be considered “nice” by any stretch of the imagination. I was nothing but property or a punching bag to the rest.

For thousands of years, this cycle has continued. I am handed down from one chief to the next as the Purple Peel clan’s “treasure”. My original body has long since crumbled to dust, and my ancient soul is wearing thin. I have seen through the rise and fall of kingdoms, several eras before the legendary Great Witch Uruka, the arrival and death of the god Niike, and many generations of witches. Not allowed to live, not allowed to die, treated as neither a human nor an object... All so that I can continue to record the histories and futures of the countless parallel worlds. I once attempted to kill one of my previous masters to free myself from this curse, but as per the ward protection offered by the contract, I am unable to gravely wound the one who owns me.

I’ve lost track of the number of times I have tried to kill myself. Every time I die, be it suicide or a more accidental death from dangerous fieldwork, my corpse is tracked down and resurrected. Sometimes I deliberately provoke my masters into getting frustrated enough to kill me themselves, but I am always brought back to life regardless. In my younger years, I had hoped that perhaps they would one day grow bored of me- or get fed up with me- and let me stay dead. I'm not sure why I keep trying. Some part of me must still be holding on to that hope.

My current master, Raanan- or simply Purple Peel, as she is known; the chiefs often take the clan name as their title- is very stubborn, and I can’t imagine her deciding to let me go. But her apprentice... call it “witch’s intuition”, or even a delusion, but I have a good feeling about her. While Raanan may not see it herself, she has changed somewhat since taking Lavi under her wing. She doesn’t strike me as often as she used to, and she’s gotten better at controlling her temper. Since the day Lavi was discovered orphaned in a sandskiff wreck two centuries ago, the girl has brought a certain lightheartedness to Nahat.

...

... The future is not set in stone, of course. Only time will tell for certain. But maybe, just maybe, when I am eventually passed down to Lavi, she will be the one to break my contract and grant me my freedom. Until then, however, I will continue my duties as the Pumpkin Witch, Ryubence-- the one who records the world.

fan-pet for Ryubence from The Witch And The Hundred Knight

ryubence, purple peel, lavi, setting, & art: Nippon Ichi Software
book stock: dougit design
paper texture: lost and taken
gulnaz, profile, story, overlay, and dividers: Ashei

owner: Ashei