For Dorothea, an apprentice witch living in a small forest in the eastern part of the continent, carrying out her master's unreasonable orders was just another part of her daily routine.
She had nearly died wandering through a forest thick with poison in search of medicinal herbs, been forced to face a bear armed with nothing but a wooden staff, and once stayed up for three days and nights straight to ensure an evil spirit didn't escape its barrier.
Whenever Dorothea complained about the unbearable hardships, her master would look at her with pity and say:
"Tsk, tsk. You foolish girl. Making a fuss over something so trivial. When I was your age, I endured far worse."
There is nothing more grating to a young person than an elder's "back in my day."
Dorothea would try to persuade her master, firmly citing arguments about the changing times and the matter of individual aptitude, but her master's response was always the same.
"If you don't like it, you can quit being my apprentice. The road home is that way."
As her master waved a dismissive hand, the weak, pitiful, and ill-fated beautiful girl (by her own account), Dorothea, had no choice but to swallow her indignation.
There is a world of difference between being a 'Great Witch's apprentice' and an 'ex-apprentice cast out by a Great Witch.'
For the sake of her future prospects in the job market, Dorothea had to, by any means necessary, properly receive her graduation certification from this foul-tempered master.
Patience. Just a little more patience. If I can just endure this and graduate, a rosy life will be waiting for me!
With the same mindset as a student deluded into thinking a fun, carefree college life awaits them after surviving their entrance exams, Dorothea endured countless hardships.
"You. I need you to go to the royal capital in my stead."
Perhaps it was because she had grown so used to this life.
When Dorothea first heard these words from her master, she unconsciously thought, 'Ah, this time it's actually manageable.'
The fact that her destination was a bustling city and not a troll's nest deep in some mountain was enough for her to think it wasn't the worst-case scenario. It was a clear example of how one's standards go to hell when you've been scraping the bottom of the barrel.
"The royal capital? What do I have to do there?"
"Go meet the king and run an errand for him. The little brat keeps calling for me, and it's getting on my nerves."
Dorothea refrained from asking the common-sense question of whether it was appropriate to call the king a 'little brat.'
Common-sense questions were only meaningful when posed to someone who possessed common sense.
Her master was a witch who had none.
Instead, Dorothea asked something else.
"But the king summoned you, Master. Isn't it pointless for me to go instead?"
No, it was more than pointless; it was a situation that could very well provoke the king's anger.
If asked which was scarier, the king's wrath or her master's, Dorothea would have answered her master's without hesitation, but that didn't mean the king's anger wasn't frightening.
"Who goes isn't all that important. In the end, what that brat wants is someone to grant his request."
"If it's a task that requires summoning you specifically, Master, I don't think I can handle it on my own."
Dorothea didn't respect her master's character, but she was well aware that her abilities were monstrous. And, for that matter, so was her infamy.
A task that would compel the king to personally summon a witch with an ominous name like the 'Queen of the Dead' was bound to be no trivial matter.
Her master didn't deny it.
"It certainly isn't a simple task to resolve. It will undoubtedly involve many troubles. But that is precisely what gives it value."
"What value?"
"A graduation exam would be meaningless if it were too easy, wouldn't it?"
Dorothea's body flinched and stiffened.
"You're nearing adulthood yourself. Isn't it about time you stood on your own two feet?"
Seeing her apprentice's reaction, the master smiled.
Unlike her usual smirks, it was a benevolent and gentle smile.
"Now, show me what you are capable of, my apprentice."
Dorothea nodded.
*
The light of an anglerfish, flickering in the depths of the sea, is bright.
The scent of a carnivorous plant, luring its prey, is sweet.
The voice of a demon, tempting its contractor, is cunning beyond compare.
Thus, the danger of a 'benevolent offer' extended by a wicked witch needs no further explanation.
The price for forgetting what kind of person her master was proved to be truly terrifying.
"Damn you, Master…! You vicious witch, I hope you fall into your own alchemy pot and die!"
Dorothea ground her teeth.
As if to mock even that complaint as a luxury, a sharp dagger grazed past her eye.
Dorothea parried the next dagger aimed at her neck with her favorite wooden staff, then gathered her mana with a short incantation.
As black, ominous orbs of energy spread out in a radial pattern, the relentless shower of daggers paused for a moment, its caster seemingly startled by the sudden counterattack.
Not missing the opening, Dorothea broke into a run again.
Thinking back calmly, there had been ominous signs from the very beginning.
The king, who looked as if he'd bitten into a bug when he learned that it was the apprentice of the renowned 'Witch of the East' who had arrived, not the witch herself.
The chancellor, who, in stark contrast to the king, welcomed Dorothea warmly and explained the purpose of her summons in a soft, gentle voice.
The bizarre situation where, after receiving the grand 'royal command' to retrieve the kingdom's eight lost treasures, the so-called support troops who followed her showed no interest in the plan and instead urged her to go on a sightseeing tour.
It didn't add up. It wasn't rational.
Like a puppet show with its sequence jumbled, everything on stage was creaking and out of sync.
Dorothea had no interest in politics.
The king's desire to restore the kingdom's glory and the nobles' wish to live quietly without provoking other nations were equally worthless to her.
So, she had decided to escape.
Her body would certainly be more comfortable if she stayed with those 'support troops' and enjoyed a sightseeing tour, but the test her master had given her was to 'complete the king's errand,' and for that, she needed to act on her own.
Dorothea was a rational person.
And it seemed that her rationality had displeased someone.
That was why Dorothea now found herself being chased by unidentified pursuers, alone in the middle of the night.
"Hah, haah."
Dorothea gasped for breath.
Her skin was covered in minor cuts, and her black witch's robes were filthy with dirt and dust.
Having become inured to carrying out her ill-tempered master's orders, she was accustomed to such chases, which was precisely why she realized her current situation was not good.
The number of enemies was unknown, and she had no allies to help her.
Her mana wasn't just ample, it was overflowing, but she lacked the means to properly utilize it.
It might have been a different story for a legendary necromancer like her master, but for Dorothea, who was still in the process of learning, there was a limit to the magic she could perform with just her body and a staff.
What few potions and magic tools she had were mostly used up during her escape, leaving her with only a handful.
She could almost hear her master's tsking in her ear.
Tsk, tsk. This is why I always tell you to keep a few undead with you. They're good as meat shields, useful for menial tasks, and they're a convenient labor force that never utters a word of complaint no matter how much you work them. I don't understand why you detest them so.
Of course, for Dorothea, who once turned a town into a scene of chaos and carnage by thoughtlessly taking two skeleton soldiers with her to the market as a child, it was advice not even worth listening to.
If she had pulled a stunt like that in the middle of the royal capital, her physical life might have been spared, but her social life would have been definitively over.
Brushing aside the unhelpful phantom voice of her master, Dorothea wandered through the forest for some time until a strange structure came into her view.
"…A castle?"
A flicker of curiosity lit up Dorothea's eyes.
A gray castle, standing alone in the overgrown forest, was an incongruous sight.
Its high walls and massive gate proclaimed their presence, as if symbolizing a bygone era of prosperity, but even that majestic appearance was faded before the green moss and vines.
To put it in the best possible light, it was 'a once-famous spot that had now completely fallen to ruin.'
As a witch, Dorothea had a wealth of magical knowledge, but historical knowledge was another matter entirely.
Among the teachings she had received from her master, the identity of an abandoned castle in a forest on the outskirts of the royal capital was not included.
…Logically, it would be wiser to flee to a place harder for people to reach rather than search a conspicuous location like this.
But Dorothea, who had overcome many hardships since childhood, knew.
There are moments when you have to trust your gut, not your reason.
Her intuition was speaking to her.
Go check out that castle. Right now.
Inside the half-rotted, collapsed castle gate, it was pitch black.
Dorothea unfastened one of the many leather pouches on her belt and rubbed its contents onto the head of her staff.
The powder, made from ground-up insects found near graves, reacted to the mana lingering in the staff and emitted a faint glow.
The interior of the castle, now revealed from the darkness, could hardly be described as being in good condition.
Broken walls and floors were a given, and the place was riddled with signs of having been ransacked by numerous intruders.
Dorothea wasn't particularly disheartened, as she had expected as much from the sight of the tattered gate.
Instead, she untied another leather pouch and poured its contents onto the floor.
Oil extracted from a rat bubbled and boiled, and a moment later, a mouse made of translucent bubbles was born.
The mouse twitched its nose as if sniffing the air, then began to run off toward some part of the castle.
Dorothea followed it.
The bubble mouse was circling insistently over a certain spot on the castle floor.
When Dorothea struck the spot with the tip of her staff, a hollow sound echoed.
There was definitely a secret space.
The problem was how to get in, but Dorothea had no intention of pondering it for long.
A witch is a master of wisdom, but one who is not bound by it.
Sometimes, the simplest way is the truth.
So, Dorothea, without hesitation, slammed her mana-infused staff into the ground.
CRASH!
The strike, filled with the frustration built up from the chase, splendidly shattered the floor.
Dorothea quietly began to descend the stairs that had finally been revealed.
At the bottom of the stairs was a cellar.
It seemed that previous visitors had failed to find this place, as there were almost no signs of human passage.
The problem was that it wasn't just thieves who were absent; it seemed a caretaker had been absent as well.
Rising dust. Brittle books. Rusted equipment.
Faint circuits left on the walls and ceiling indicated that preservation magic had once been cast here, but it seemed to have expired decades ago.
Just as Dorothea was despairing that there was nothing useful here, the bubble mouse darted toward 'something' in the corner of the room.
Dorothea looked at the 'something.'
The 'something' had arms and legs made of metal.
The 'something' had a cold body.
The 'something' was draped in a tattered-looking cloak.
Looking at the 'something,' which at first glance appeared to be a neglected suit of armor, Dorothea muttered.
"A magic doll? Did its previous owner abandon it?"
The servants that mages and witches use to assist them are called familiars.
While beings like a Wizard's spirits, an Alchemist's homunculi, or a Necromancer's undead were familiars specialized for each class, the magic doll Dorothea had found was a versatile type used widely across all classes.
They were created by implanting an artificial soul into a vessel that conducted mana well. Due to their low intelligence, they couldn't follow complex commands, but they were easy to control, making them a favorite among beginners.
The doll before her looked so old that even Dorothea, who had learned a thing or two from her master, couldn't guess when it was made. However, the circuits themselves seemed intact, so with a bit of work, it might be reusable.
Dorothea didn't hesitate for long.
Placing a hand on its chest, she slowly poured her mana into it. Gradually, changes began to appear on the silent magic doll's exterior.
The rust staining its metal body flaked off, and minor scratches were filled in.
It looked as if a dying life was being newly born.
Dorothea frowned.
The doll was absorbing far more mana than she had anticipated.
It was enough to feel a bit taxing even for Dorothea, whose mana capacity had been described as 'obscene' by her master.
"Is its fuel efficiency bad because it's old?"
Calmly thinking, the wise move would be to quickly pull her hand away, but at this point, Dorothea's stubborn pride welled up.
With the feeling of 'let's see who wins this,' Dorothea continued to pour in her mana.
"Yes!"
And at the moment all the rust finally vanished from the doll's body, Dorothea instinctively struck a victory pose.
It was an act her master would have clicked her tongue at, scolding her for being unladylike.
Perhaps because it had been a long time since she had used nearly all her mana, her head was spinning.
"Hey, look over here! Did you check this passage?"
It was then that she began to hear bustling noises and sense presences from above.
What terrible timing, Dorothea thought, clicking her tongue inwardly.
Normally, she would have proceeded with casting and implanting the artificial soul, followed by a master-servant contract, but it seemed highly likely the enemies would find her before she could finish.
The only silver lining was that the single entrance made it a decent environment for facing multiple opponents.
The moment Dorothea fought off her dizziness and gripped her staff.
Vwoom.
A light shot out from a brooch hanging near the magic doll's waist and struck Dorothea.
Click.
The sensation of something connecting flashed through Dorothea's mind.
Before she could react, a mysterious message echoed in her head.
[From a long slumber, the 'Tin Knight' awakens!]