Rewrite That Witch
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Chapter 1060: Bidding Farewell

Nearly a year of preparation had turned Neverwinter into something that functioned with the momentum of a machine that had found its operating speed.

The Months of Demons had not slowed it. The city had kept absorbing neighboring resources through the winter at a pace that astonished the Administrative Office, which had thought the hundred-thousand population mark was a theoretical ceiling, not a milestone. It had been crossed and the count was still rising. The infusion of new labor had driven rapid expansion across every industry — four new chemical plants, machine processing and assembly facilities in double digits, entire districts that hadn’t existed two years ago.

By the current numbers, the Administrative Office was paying out nearly ten thousand gold royals in monthly wages. When Roland had first arrived in this city, the Duke of the Western Region’s maximum annual take was twenty-four thousand royals — the accumulated fruit of half a lifetime’s administration. That same fortune now covered two and a half months of payroll.

The revenues came primarily from steam engines, paddle steamers, perfumes, and Chaos Drinks, sold through the Joint Chamber of Commerce across the Fjords and the Four Kingdoms. The money that came in was absorbed almost immediately by raw materials and components. The treasury’s reserves were beginning to thin. It was an unstable equilibrium — a city running at maximum burn to fund a war machine that had to be ready before the war arrived.

Roland had not found a better option.

Without steady artillery production, the guns ran dry. Without machine guns supplied continuously, the front lines couldn’t hold. The mathematics of a pre-industrial war economy ran on iron throughput, not gold reserves, and iron throughput required the kind of energy infrastructure that consumed everything else around it.

The First Army had grown from eight thousand to ten thousand. Tilly’s Air Force was in active preparation. The Conscription Act and the National Mobilization Act were being drafted — frameworks for pulling students, factory workers, and farmers into basic military discipline without removing them entirely from productive work. It was the logic of reserve forces: not soldiers now, but people who could become soldiers faster when the need arrived.

The timing of the Bloody Moon remained uncertain. The astronomers and the Taquila survivors gave ranges, not dates. Optimistic estimates put the next Battle of Divine Will four or five years out. Pessimistic ones compressed it to one or two. Roland planned for the pessimistic case and hoped for the optimistic one.

His immediate strategic objective: convert from defense to offense. Take the fight to the Fertile Plains. Remove the demon garrison that had occupied the ruins of Taquila. As long as that position remained in enemy hands, it sat between Neverwinter and every forward objective.

The rail line running through the Misty Forest was already laid. The heavy transport that would have been impossible in deep winter moved continuously along the cleared track — steel, ammunition, medical supplies. The moment Roland gave the order, the Northern Expedition would begin.

Both the army and the city were ready.

He had two things left to handle first.

The day after the Months of Demons ended, Thunder sent word that he was requesting a meeting. Roland arranged afternoon tea in the parlor and invited Anna. He also sent word to Margaret — the businesswoman had a particular rapport with Lightning, and Roland could help with that much.

“Leaving so soon?” He poured tea as they settled. “You couldn’t wait to get back to the open water.”

Thunder laughed, an easy full sound. “You read me perfectly, Your Majesty. Every hour I spent with my hands on the wheel of that steel ship, I was imagining the sea breeze. If I could, I would have taken it straight to the horizon that first day.”

“And then,” said Margaret, “you would have run out of fresh water approximately halfway there, and the other Chamber of Commerce members who have invested heavily in this expedition would have had their investment walk off the edge of the map.” She shook her head with the resigned amusement of someone who has long since accepted that the man she works with is incurable. “He knows this. He just enjoys saying it.”

“Haha — I just wanted His Majesty to understand the depth of my enthusiasm.” Thunder touched his chin. “Margaret is right, of course. This isn’t only my expedition anymore. The Fjords see it as an opportunity — new sea routes mean new markets, and no Chamber of Commerce in the islands can look at that prospect without interest. I’ve already had more investment offers than I can use. This will probably be the largest organized expedition in the history of the Fjord Islands.” He straightened. “Which means I have to return and manage the preparation properly. We can’t leave before it’s done right.”

“In just a few months you’ve mastered the steel ship well enough to recruit a fleet,” Roland said.

“That’s thanks entirely to Her Highness Anna.” Thunder pressed his hand to his chest in the Fjord salute. “The improvements she made to the hull — I couldn’t have described to you in advance what the difference would feel like, but once it was sailing, there was no comparison. An iron vessel moving with more grace than a three-masted ship. You’d have to see it.”

“I would like one thing in return.” Anna set down her cup. “During the trial runs, the ship only operated in the Shallow Beach. For deep-sea conditions — the real open ocean — there will be problems I haven’t anticipated. I want a navigation report. Every issue that comes up, recorded in full. Use Neverwinter’s waterproof ink. Sealant bag for the documents. Even if a notebook ends up in the water, the record should survive.”

Thunder paused, clearly recalibrating his expectations. He hadn’t anticipated a technical request. “Understood. I’ll see that it’s done properly, Your Highness.”

Roland touched Anna’s hand briefly, then looked back at Thunder. “There’s something I’d like to entrust to you as well.”

“Name it.”

“I want to recruit explorers. Separate from your expedition.”

“Destination?”

“The Endless Cape.”

Margaret set down her cup. “The yellow sand and black water? There’s nothing there.”

“That’s what I thought as well.” Roland’s tone was mild, noncommittal. “Low risk. No experience required. Quantity over expertise.”

Thunder waited. When Roland didn’t elaborate, he accepted the silence in the practical way of an experienced sailor — you didn’t always need to know why the wind came from a particular direction, only that it did. “There are people like that throughout the Fjords. What are the qualifications?”

“None.” Roland refilled his tea. “Officially they’d be called explorers, but in practice anyone can apply. Whoever finds relics in the Endless Cape will be rewarded. The more information the relic contains, the larger the payment. The standing offer will remain valid for as long as I hold the throne of Graycastle.”

“Even a single brick from a ruin?”

“Even a single brick. As long as it demonstrably comes from that area.”

“Then I’m afraid the Endless Cape is going to become considerably more crowded.” Margaret’s smile carried the particular calculation of someone who has already begun doing location scouting. “I should consider whether Festive Harbor needs a proper tavern.”

“You would be most welcome.” It aligned with his other goals — traffic through the oil port would help the local economy, and the civilization in those murals was at minimum fourteen hundred years old. There might be nothing left. There might be something. A standing reward cost relatively little and covered the search cost entirely through other people’s time and motivation.

“By the way,” said Thunder, “the steel ship is officially certified for service now. Has it been named?”

“Snow Breeze.”

The explorer considered this. “It’s a fine name. I wonder if it’s — well, for a vessel that large, made of iron — perhaps something with a little more weight to it?”

“Both qualities together make the best thing.” Roland found himself smiling without quite intending to. “And it’s an auspicious name. I fully expect it will bring you excellent luck.”

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