CH1066 · Rewrite
☕ Support

Chapter 1066: The Prewar Speech

“Extraordinary,” Barov said, stroking his beard. “I never expected a long-distance race to be so gripping.”

“When those three were neck-and-neck at the finish line, my own heart was pounding,” said Petrov, the governor of Longsong District. “A pity only the champion receives the commemorative badge.”

“A pity for you?” The City Hall Director’s smile was pleasant and sharp at once. “The champion is from Longsong District. I’d think you’d have fewer regrets than anyone.”

“Sunflower was simply lucky. Longsong will have to settle for next year’s Victory Day Games.”

“Will it? I’m a little anxious about depending on that.”

“Aha — if the unexpected happens consistently, it stops being unexpected.”

Roland watched the two of them trade jabs in the comfortable way of men who had long since learned to enjoy the game, a gap of twenty years between them irrelevant to the rhythm of the exchange. Well matched, he thought. Both of you.

After he had announced the top three, the spectators relaxed into a hum of commentary, still watching the street for the remaining runners, absorbed in the kind of shared investment that only competition produced. Even the witches were caught up in it, leaning forward, exclaiming when a figure came into view. Their magic gave them abilities no ordinary person could approach — but it apparently did nothing to insulate them from suspense.

Roland smiled at the sight of them. He had banned witches and God’s Punishment Witches from the race precisely because their participation might discourage ordinary runners. But watching them now, he found himself thinking about a separate event — one for them alone.

What would a sports competition for witches actually look like?

“Is this what sporting events were like in your previous world?” Anna’s voice arrived at his shoulder. “You seemed distracted during the first half.”

“I couldn’t see or hear what was happening at the starting lines,” he admitted.

“There was a way to follow the race in real time, back then?” Her eyes lit with that particular interest — the one she got when a mechanism was implied. “How did it work?”

“It’s complicated.” He smiled. “Do you remember what I told you about television?”

It hadn’t had commentary. It hadn’t had live broadcast. And it had still worked. The race had been suspenseful, surprising, and completely outside his predictions — Carter in his handmade ribbon, Rohan in his wolf-girl costume, and then the result itself. Scroll’s roster showed that Sunflower had been a Rat on Black Street, then a mail carrier after Roland took Longsong Stronghold. She had run the streets every day since. Twenty-eight kilometers was, for her, a Tuesday.

She had beaten every favored candidate on pure accumulated habit.

The outcome delighted him in a way he hadn’t expected. Her victory meant something the Outstanding Contribution Award couldn’t offer: it was evidence for everyone watching that ordinary work, done persistently, could overwrite the arithmetic of talent. Not a gift from the king, not a prize for distinction — just the result of a girl who had run her route until she ran faster than anyone.

When the sun reached the horizon, the first National Sports Event wound to its close.

Spectators moved toward the stands for the award ceremony.

For Roland, this was the part that mattered.

He stood, nodded to Echo, and stepped to the front of the platform.

The crowd below stretched in every direction. As he moved to the edge, the noise gradually subsided, faces turning upward.

“Citizens of Graycastle, you’ve just watched a miraculous race. In less than four hours, many of your neighbors ran twenty-eight kilometers — exactly half the length of Kingdom Main Street.”

He let that settle.

“I want to remind you — especially those who came to Neverwinter more recently — that it used to take three days of travel, day and night, to get from Border Town to Longsong Stronghold. If someone had told you then that a person could run that distance in a single afternoon, you would have laughed. But today you watched it happen.”

The crowd stirred.

“Citizens of Graycastle: you have already made miracles. You’ve run twenty-eight kilometers. You’ve built roads through mountains. You’ve raised a city out of this riverside bank that has no equal in this world. For you, there is no ceiling. Nothing can stop you from going further.”

The cheer that came back was full-throated and sustained.

He raised a hand. Waited.

“Now we face a new challenge. Demons. We’ve reached a decisive juncture in the war against them, and soon the First Army will move deep into the Fertile Plains and meet the enemy at Taquila.”

Silence.

“Demons are the most brutal and greedy invaders we have ever faced. They’ve destroyed thriving kingdoms and massacred millions. Everywhere they have been, cities crumble and the dead pile like hills.”

“So we must fight before that destruction reaches us.”

“We will fight them on land. We will fight them on the sea. We will fight them in the sky. We will fight until demons no longer exist in this world, and no one threatens our survival again.”

“I’m glad to see Mojins and people from many other lands standing among you today. I welcome that. I promise you, it is the new normal. Demons intend to eliminate all human beings — men, women, children, from every land and every bloodline. This is not a war for Graycastle alone. This is a war for the whole human race.”

“When fear comes — and it will come — remember today. Remember what you’ve seen. As long as we have faith in each other and hold together to the end, we will win.”

“Now — let us welcome the top ten runners to the stage!”

The roar came back doubled.


Guelz, standing beside the stand, let out a long breath when it subsided. “The Great Chief knows how to speak.” He shook his head slowly. “I wanted to march out and fight something after that.”

He looked at Rohan. “Are you ready to go up?”

Rohan bit his lip. His expression was that particular shade of unhappy that came from knowing a consolation prize was still a prize.

“You didn’t finish first,” Guelz said. “You finished second in the first race of this kind ever held, in a city you’d never set foot in until four days ago, wearing a costume that was drawing stares from every direction.” He rubbed his son’s head roughly. “You tried everything you had. That’s enough. Go up there and stand tall. Let them all see what the Wildflame clan’s heir can do.”

Rohan looked at him for a moment. Then he nodded — once, firm.

He walked toward the stage.

He didn’t feel embarrassed about the wolf ears anymore.

Guelz watched until his son’s outline was clear against the fading sky — tall, straight, moving without hesitation, and looking, in that light, remarkably like his sister.

Discussion

Suggest a change