Rewrite That Witch
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Chapter 1373: Smell of Blood

“Name and origin?”

“Nolan. This is my elder brother, Buenos. We come from Icebound Town.”

Negan Murray answered the guard’s questions smoothly.

Before they had reached Sedimentation Bay, the brothers had asked around and learned that it was best to answer Graycastle’s checkpoint guards honestly — problems arose for those who tried to be clever. But they had no intention of entering Graycastle. Once through Cage Mountain they would be in Kingdom of Dawn territory, and the vastness of the hamlets there would swallow them whole. Two men with their combat experience had no reason to worry about the future.

Disguising themselves as common folk made them less conspicuous than arriving as nobles. The plan was sound: find work as an imperial guard or a patrol member for some local feudal lord, build a creditable identity in daylight, and enjoy their freedom at night. Watch the remote paths. Refugees would keep coming.

Just as in the Kingdom of Everwinter.

“Icebound Town? That’s quite a distance from Sedimentation Bay.” The inspector kept his eyes on the ledger as he wrote. “News of the demon retreat traveled that far already? We’ve had very few northern refugees of your kind.”

Negan’s attention sharpened.

The man looked ordinary enough, the sort you’d pass on any street without registering him. But every ordinary person Negan had met in his life was aware only of their own circumstances, narrow as a coin. This Graycastle man not only knew of Icebound Town — he knew its distance from here.

“Is that so? I heard it from a merchant friend. Perhaps more people from Everwinter will be coming soon?”

His own answer quietly reassured him. He had chosen a town not far from the Wolfheart border; anything farther north, like Snow Reflection Castle, would have drawn suspicion.

“I hope so too.” The inspector turned to Talos. “Your brother — could he lift the scarf from his face?”

“He was mauled by an animal once. I don’t think it’s comfortable for him to—”

“My apologies, but it’s the regulation. Any distinctive features must be recorded.”

Negan’s jaw tightened.

Damn it. You’re just a watchdog. My brother was once a knight, conferred by a queen.

If they were in the wilderness, Negan would have had the man’s tongue before he could finish speaking.

“It’s fine.” Talos’s voice was cold and flat. “One look.” He lifted the scarf and revealed the ruined half of his face. The inspector actually stepped back. The people in line around them went quiet. But the man from Graycastle steadied himself and kept writing.

“Here are your nameplates.” He held out two metal discs. “These are your only proof of identity. Don’t lose them. Please proceed to the detention area and wait.”

He’s frightened.

Negan took the nameplate and swallowed his sneer.

His brother’s face betrayed nothing, but Negan knew what stirred beneath it. The presence Talos carried — sharpened through years of combat at the edge of death — was not something any ordinary man could absorb without flinching. The fact that the inspector had not simply fallen over was, by any fair measure, creditable.

A pity they couldn’t act here. Graycastle soldiers stood at every angle, and those invisible crossbow arrows could find a gap in any guard. No matter how capable the two brothers were, that was not a problem to fight.

“Let’s go.” Talos covered his face and nodded.

“Yes.” Negan pushed through the crowd and led the way into the port, then stopped short. “Brother — they’re loading everyone onto ships.”

Talos had already seen it.

Their plan, which had seemed sound when they drew it up, required getting through the checkpoint and then dispersing freely through the city. But Graycastle’s guards had never intended to let the refugees scatter. From the sentry post to the detention area, brightly colored strips ran along the ground like a painted road, guiding the crowd step by step toward the dock and the waiting ships. The strips were not a fence. But the guards paced their sectors in regular rotations, and any refugee who wandered off the colored path would draw attention immediately.

The city itself was the greater problem.

Sedimentation Bay’s core was gutted. Hardly a building stood intact, and what remained was occupied by soldiers, not residents. There was nowhere to blend in, no labyrinthine streets, no population to disappear into.

Everwinter had been occupied by demons too — yet Snow Reflection Castle and the other cities had been preserved nearly intact. Who could have anticipated this?

“What do we do?” Negan could not keep the worry from his face. Once they were on a ship their fate left their own hands. If the vessel headed for Graycastle, where could they run to?

Standing still was equally impossible. Any refugee would want to move forward; two men who stayed in place would look wrong.

“You’re too hasty. That’s why you never received a conferment.” Talos sighed. “Walk slowly. Don’t stop. The dock is large — Graycastle can’t seal every gap with this number of guards. Count them. Fewer than a hundred. Watch them carefully and an opening will appear.”

Negan steadied himself. His brother was right. Whatever Talos was when blood was on his hands, he was ice when it counted. Negan had never once found an obstacle he couldn’t navigate by following that voice.

Half a minute later, he found the opening himself.

“Brother — there.” His voice dropped.

Talos observed for a moment. “Graycastle keeps surprising me,” he said quietly, and there was something that might have been reluctant admiration in the words. “Even the carriages.”

At a far corner of the dock stood ten four-wheeled vehicles of a scale that ordinary cargo carriages could not approach. Every supply being loaded onto the ships — bags, crates, provisions — passed through these vehicles, with porters shuttling in continuous relays between them and the gangplanks. The area was busy and relatively chaotic, and it was not far from the detention zone. Moving toward the vehicles looked natural.

The only problem was that reaching the vehicles did not mean escaping Graycastle’s perimeter. Unless they could evade the guards entirely, they would be run down within minutes.

The only real route was to steal one of the carriages.

The vehicles were large but not horse-drawn. The driver’s position appeared to be inside the cab. In other words, if they could seize the driver without noise, they could keep moving without anyone noticing until they were clear.

The brothers exchanged a look, and the plan was agreed without a word spoken.

They would use the bulk of the vehicles as cover, find one loaded and ready to leave, silence the driver, and go. Everything after that would settle itself.

They moved without hesitation.

It was more nerve-wracking than dangerous. Several porters noticed them drifting away from the colored strips, but the only response was a helpful gesture pointing back toward the ships. The brothers played the part of men curious about the machinery, and no one wanted to pause their work for the sake of two refugees. Once they passed into a blind spot, they bent low and ran to the nearest vehicle that looked fully loaded.

They were almost there.

A voice came from directly behind them.

“Who are you two?”

Every hair on Negan’s body stood.

He turned.

A girl stood where no one had been standing. Cloaked, head tilted, the hood’s shadow cutting across half her face.

His hand moved to his waist. Talos stopped it without looking.

“Forgive us.” Talos spoke calmly. “We’re refugees from Icebound Town. We saw these extraordinary machines and wandered over without thinking.”

“Refugees.” The girl smiled. She showed no intention of moving. “But why is there such a rich smell of blood on the both of you?”

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