Rewrite That Witch
CH1177 · Rewrite
☕ Support

Chapter 1177: Before the Storm

The ancient witches exchanged looks — uncertain, lost.

At last, Pasha broke the silence. “Yes. There might be.”

“How did the Union locate God’s Stone mines in the past?” Roland asked.

“The method used a thousand years ago — I can’t recall it precisely,” Celine said. “I believe it was pure coincidence. After the Quest Society was established, the search became systematic.” She described what Roland already half-knew from the map that had guided Lightning to Agatha: the map that marked Taquila, the Misty Forest, and the North Slope Mine, and through which an entire buried history had surfaced. “God’s Stones block power, so we learned to search by that feature. Witches like Sylvie, Nightingale, Lightning, and Isabella could all have served as researchers six or seven centuries ago. At peak peacetime, we kept nearly a hundred witches in the search teams. We found six mines total — three large enough to build cities around.” She paused. “Later, we acquired the technologies of the underground civilization and began using a magic core for the search. Once the core generated power, its sensor could cover a radius of a hundred kilometers. It led us to the southern end of the Misty Forest and the Hermes Plateau. Unfortunately, by the time we found them, the Bloody Moon had risen, and the demons destroyed everything.”

“So the Union had no reason to search the mountain ridge,” Roland said slowly. “Inaccessible to common people, brutal even for witches — inconvenient ground for building an Obelisk.”

“Exactly.” Edith nodded. “They needn’t send their full strength, but the ridge is large enough to substitute for Taquila as a staging ground. And the number of troops they could position there depends entirely on how long they’ve been preparing. If the Western Front Plan Ursrook mentions holds multiple contingency options—”

“The demons would have been preparing for over half a year.” Iron Axe’s voice was heavy. “Your Majesty…”

“I understand,” Roland said. He scanned the room. Whether or not Edith’s deduction proved correct, he had to confirm it — and quickly. This touched every one of the other three kingdoms. It touched the shape of the next hundred years. If the demons were genuinely planning to enter human territory through the mountain ridge, every resource Neverwinter had directed toward the Fertile Plains would be exposed. He straightened.

“Hear my orders.”

“Yes, Your Majesty!” The witches and officials answered together.

“Wendy — bring Lightning and Maggie back to Neverwinter immediately.”

“I’ll go right away.”

“Iron Axe — implement the migration policy as soon as possible. Force is permitted.”

“As you command!”

“And I need the Taquila witches to provide another magic core.” Roland turned to Pasha. “Air reconnaissance alone may miss something. I need your assistance to ensure we find everything.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty.”

The crowd dispersed. Celine stopped Roland at the door.

“I want to show you something, Your Majesty.”

He followed her into the underground laboratory. On the desk sat four yellowish-brown stones, nearly identical to the Magic Ceremony Cube — and he realized with a start that she had already produced four replicates.

He crossed to the workstation and turned one over in his hands. Against the original, the replicate looked sharper, newer, the surface patterns cleaner and more precise.

“Yes, though they function slightly differently. I suspect it concerns the raw materials — the radiation race may have added something when they made the original. I’ve already tested the replicates on chickens and confirmed the differences don’t affect function.”

“Even better,” Roland said, sparing a private thought for the chickens. “We need the power to last longer. Lethality is secondary. Keep going.”

“Of course. Do you still need these prototypes?”

“You discovered a new energy source.” He meant it, and it came through. “You can’t imagine how significant this research is. The contribution you’ve made to the human race will carve a place in history no one can dispute.”

He was already working through the next problem: a device to convert the Magic Cube’s thermal energy into kinetic energy. If that succeeded, Neverwinter would have another industrial revolution on its hands. He looked at Celine’s tentacled form with a rueful weight he couldn’t quite dispel, and said, “You should be on a stage in the central square, receiving a Special Award for Services to Neverwinter in front of a crowd.”

“That’s nothing, Your Majesty.” Celine’s voice carried a warmth that her body could not show. “I knew that kind of honor wouldn’t be available to me when I transferred my soul. I’m simply doing my job. And you’ve already fulfilled my dream in the Dream World.”

Roland’s orders radiated outward through the kingdom the same day.

A dozen birds rose each morning from the castle’s highest point, encrypted messages tied to their legs, bound northeast. Every port, every fleet joined the great relocation. The First Army shipped out to Port of Clearwater, Seawindshire, and the other port cities on paddle steamers, then transferred north by sea. Soldiers knew nothing of their exact mission — only that an order had come, and that they were moving. They assembled without hesitation.

In the City of Glow, Kingdom of Dawn.

Horford Quinn read Hill Fawkes’ letter and summoned his son before the ink was dry. “Go to Beach Bay and Dragon Castle. Tell the local lords that ships from Graycastle take priority over every other vessel. Reserve a dedicated docking area. The royal family will cover all necessary expenses.”

Hawn’s brow creased. “Father — that’s a significant sum. It’ll disrupt the other merchant vessels—”

“Enough.” Horford cut him off. “Just do as I said.”

Hawn dipped his head, conceded, and turned to go. At the door he paused. “At least tell me what Graycastle is planning.”

Horford said nothing.

When the door closed, he exhaled. He walked to the window and looked at the street below — the same street it had always been, unchanged — and muttered quietly to himself: “Everything’s going to change now.”

In an underground limestone cave at the edge of the City of Glow.

Banach Lothar settled into his wheelchair and studied the two hundred “Unspeakable” standing at attention before him, the twenty masked managers ranked among them. For years, these followers had been the machinery of Black Money.

“You’ve invested heavily in the Kingdom of Wolfheart and the Kingdom of Everwinter over the past few years.” He let the silence stretch a moment before he went on, his voice a croak. “Now it’s time to collect. I’ve received reliable intelligence that Graycastle’s forces will soon move into both kingdoms. Whatever they’re doing, your mission is simple: assist them in every way possible. Money, food, intelligence — Black Money will meet their needs in full. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Good. Go.”

The hall emptied. Banach reached into his inner pocket and drew out an empty vial. The fifth one since the Oracle had killed Appen Moya.

One more vial. Just one, and he would reach immortality.

His hand trembled as he held the little bottle up to the light.

Rest assured, Oracle. I’ll not let you down.

Discussion

Suggest a change