Rewrite That Witch
CH120 · Rewrite
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Chapter 120: Ransom (Part 2)

Roland looked at him with the interest of someone who has asked a question and received, unexpectedly, a better question in return.

“You’re the first person to ask me that.”

He took a drink from his cup. When he set it down, his tone had shifted to something more businesslike, though no less easy. “Let me clarify the terms. Longsong Stronghold belongs to me regardless — not as a condition of negotiation, simply as a fact of military outcome. What I need is someone to govern it on my behalf. So what you’re actually asking about isn’t a ransom. It’s a representative’s fee.”

Representative. Petrov knew the word from a different context — the arrangement where a merchant paid a deposit to a noble for the exclusive right to sell that lord’s goods. The noble got a reliable revenue stream without having to deal with markets; the merchant got a monopoly and a legitimate channel. The principle was the same.

“How much?” He kept his voice level.

“Thirty percent of the Stronghold’s monthly tax revenue,” Roland said. “Plus materials worth one thousand points, every month. The remainder stays with you.”

Petrov ran the numbers. The Stronghold’s tax base was substantial — thirty percent was not a trivial sum, but the seventy percent that remained was larger than the annual income of most minor nobles in the Western territory. Plus full administrative authority, presumably, or the arrangement was meaningless.

This is real, he thought. He is actually offering this.

He kept his face neutral while his mind moved fast.

The Duke was dead. Ryan’s children were minors or distant enough from the succession to be non-factors. The five noble families that had formed the coalition were now leaderless and would spend the next months watching each other for signs of overreach. Whoever secured the Prince’s endorsement first — before the other four families even understood what was happening — would begin with an insurmountable structural advantage.

Petrov thought about his father, whose name was first on the ransom list, and who was apparently alive and being reasonably treated, and thought that this was perhaps not entirely coincidental.

“Your Highness,” he said carefully, “why do you prefer to return to Border Town? The Stronghold’s resources are considerably—”

“What you want to ask,” Roland said, “is why I don’t want to govern it myself.” He seemed slightly embarrassed by this, which was unexpected. “Several reasons. The power structure here has been building for over a century — competing families, divided territories, established patronage chains. Untangling that is a long project that I don’t have time for at the moment. More practically: a local administrator who understands the territory’s economy will always govern it more efficiently than I can from a distance. This becomes a better arrangement for both of us.” He paused. “And naturally, a representative I’ve appointed is considerably less likely to build a revenge force than a Duke Timothy might assign.”

The last point was stated so casually that Petrov almost missed its weight.

“Of course not, Your Highness.”

Because with Ryan dead and the Duke’s coalition broken, the five families will be competing for position, not organizing resistance. Revenge requires unity. Unity requires someone to organize it. I have no interest in organizing it and every interest in being the person the Prince trusts.

But he also understood that Roland’s stated reasons weren’t the full picture. The power structure is too entangled was true, but it wasn’t the obstacle it would be for someone with less force behind them. The cannon that had destroyed the Duke’s charge could silence a noble family’s resistance just as easily. The real reason — Petrov was fairly certain — was something he wasn’t being told yet.

Roland had a deeper intention. He filed that observation for later.

“The Hull family is willing to serve,” he said, and stood to bow.

“Good.” Roland’s expression didn’t change. “But that’s your decision to make. I have to confirm it’s the right one. Some questions.”

What followed was unlike any interview Petrov had imagined having with a member of the royal family. No questions about loyalty, bloodline, military capacity, or the other families’ weaknesses. Instead: What do you do with opposition inside the administration? How do you estimate the monthly tax base, and how would you guarantee the monthly payment? If I required you to aggressively expand trade and commerce, what specifically would you do?

He answered each question fully, thinking through his responses as he gave them, watching the Prince’s expression calibrate.

By the fifth question he had the odd sensation of being evaluated for competence rather than for usefulness, which were related but distinct things, and which gave the entire conversation a different quality.

Roland clapped his hands once. “That’s enough for today. When you’ve worked out how to reach three thousand points, come back and we’ll release your father. He’s being properly looked after.”

“And the representative’s position—”

“Another day.” He gestured to the guard at the door.

Carter returned his God’s Stone of Retaliation in the antechamber without ceremony. Petrov took it and turned it over in his hand. Same stone. Same depth of color. The same small flaw in the crystal near the setting that he’d noticed when he bought it.

Fifty gold royals, returned without hesitation or substitution.

He walked out of the castle with considerably more to think about than he’d brought in.

“What can you tell me?” Roland said, when the doors had closed.

Nightingale stepped away from the wall. “Truthful throughout. More sincere than most of the others you’ve spoken to today.” She considered. “Though is it wise to show everyone the same letters? They’re technically confidential.”

“Not everyone. Only the five families — only someone with enough existing power to govern the Stronghold credibly. Showing them the letters does two things: it explains why Timothy can’t move against the arrangement immediately, and it spreads the news of his defeat faster than it would travel otherwise.” He looked down at the list. “Timothy losing to Garcia at Eagle City isn’t a secret I need to protect. The faster it reaches the Western territory, the more stable my position here.”

And if Timothy had won cleanly, he thought, I’d be spending significant resources right now fending him off instead of interviewing administrators. The timing had been, frankly, perfect — though he had enough sense not to say so.

“So you’ve decided on him?”

“He was the first to ask. Unprompted, before he’d even had time to fully calculate the advantage.” Roland drew a slow circle around Petrov Hull’s name on the list. “In my experience, the people who identify the opportunity before you’ve finished explaining it are the ones worth talking to.” He set down the pen. “I hadn’t expected any of the five families to know what to do with a trade expansion question. I’d expected horses and swords.”

He looked at the circle on the list.

“Schedule a follow-up for tomorrow.”

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