CH1431 · Rewrite
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Chapter 1431: Born For War

“Come on. One, two, three—”

“To your recovery. Cheers!”

Inside the Sleeping Spell’s living quarters, Dusk’s smile was wide enough to shame the occasion. Balshan raised her glass anyway, helpless against it.

As partners went, Dusk visited constantly, with no regard for her own schedule or Balshan’s dignity. Back on Sleeping Island, a Combat Witch would never have warranted such attentiveness. The mixture of guilt and being genuinely moved sat uncomfortably in Balshan’s chest — she felt herself the lesser one, though she knew Dusk would never think in such terms.

Then her gaze found the third person at the table, and her expression soured.

“Why are you here?”

Charms drained an entire glass in one motion. “I brought the wine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It sounds like we can’t drink without you.” Balshan rolled her eyes. “Neverwinter has pubs on every corner.”

“A pity, then, that His Majesty declared a state of war. All alcohol is a controlled commodity now — you can’t simply have it because you want it.” Charms shrugged. “So you ought to be thanking me. I stole this from my old man’s stores.”

State of war, huh.

The words killed her appetite for bickering.

Even confined to bed, she had felt the city tighten around her, the way a body tenses before a blow. The newspapers had been the first sign — weekly reports becoming two or three printings a week, their pages filling with frontline dispatches, emergency recruitment notices, and columns of missing persons. The defense line was holding, pushing the war’s edge back from the developing grounds, but the cost was printed in silence between those lines. Farms and settlements built through years of hard labor, gone. The odds that the missing workers had survived — slim.

The food changed next. Eggs and meat vanished from the midday meal, bread taking their place. Not enough to complain about, not compared to other cities — but a line had been crossed all the same.

Then the streets.

Every day, columns of soldiers in new uniforms moved through Neverwinter while residents pressed to the roadsides to watch. She saw it from the window of her room: excitement and nervousness on the soldiers’ faces, reluctance and worry on the faces of the families left behind. The numbers were not trivial. This was a different order of mobilization than anything she’d seen from the knightage or the Judgment Army.

This is war.

For the continuity of the race, thousands of men fought with everything they had, the whole weight of a civilization pressing at their backs. Compared to them, the battles she had fought as a Combat Witch amounted to almost nothing. She had come to the Fertile Plains with Dusk to avoid running into people she knew. Then the developing grounds were destroyed, and she’d been thrown back into the category of useless person once more.

“Hey — why have you gone quiet?” Sensing the absence of retort, Charms scratched the back of his head and shot Dusk a glance. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Dusk don’t know.” Dusk stuck her tongue out. “But Dusk knows the person who says something wrong must drink three more glasses!”

“Are you drunk already—”

“No! This is only Dusk’s second glass. Dusk is fine!”

Three sharp knocks cut through the room.

“Coming!” Dusk sprang up and flung the door open. “Eh — Lord Camilla?”

The Chief Butler of Sleeping Island, Camilla Dary, swept the room with one measured look and walked to the other two.

“Seems your visiting hours are up,” Balshan said, forcing a smile toward Charms. “Lady Dary has no patience for people who ignore the clock. Your chances of getting back in here are not good.”

“I was keeping track — it hasn’t even been half an hour,” Charms murmured.

Before she could answer, Camilla stepped past him and stopped in front of Balshan.

“The Witch Union has announced a new recruitment drive for Witches across Graycastle.” Camilla spoke without preamble. “Roughly fifty slots. Priority to those with combat experience. I thought of you first.”

Balshan needed a moment to parse it. Mass recruitment. Priority to combat experience. Was this connected to the war? If so, why no requirement on the recruits’ abilities?

“You’ve guessed correctly.” Camilla read her face. “The Witch Union is forming a specialized task force to support the frontline — designed for the battles ahead. I can’t give you the details. You know the risks of the battlefield better than most, so the choice is yours.” She paused. “Though having combat experience won’t guarantee selection. The final decision depends—”

“I’ll go,” Balshan said.

Nothing to hesitate over. She had waited too long for this.

“Then follow me.” Camilla stepped aside.

Balshan moved toward the door. As she passed Charms, he spoke quietly, a thread of genuine worry in it she hadn’t expected. “You’re really going to the frontlines?”

“I thought you’d be cheering.” She smirked. “Now you can court Dusk without anyone in the way.”

His mouth opened. Something hovered there, unfinished. He watched her back and didn’t say it.


A day later, she arrived at the Misty Forest by train.

Camilla handed her off to a woman named Isabella, who was responsible for selection and training. Balshan couldn’t account for it, but she felt, inexplicably, that she knew her — as if they had met in some context she couldn’t name.

The other surprise was the sheer number of recruits. Not only Witches from the Sleeping Spell but many from the Witch Union proper, and in the short half-hour journey she’d already met Vanilla, Amy, and Hero. Among the faces she recognized were Iffy and Nightfall from the Bloodfang Association, both wearing the same look she imagined she wore.

They wanted to prove themselves too.

Isabella led the group into a factory building after they disembarked.

The moment they stepped inside, everyone stopped.

In the center of the empty floor sat something enormous and metal. The most obvious features were the wheels — five on each side — with iron panels fitted beneath them, banding the wheels together in a continuous track. The body above was all plate and angle, armored like a fort sealed shut, and at the top, a metal cannon jutted from a rotating control tower.

One glance was enough.

Balshan knew the shape of it. It reminded her of the machines that broke ground for the farms — the tractors. But where those were built for earth, this was built for something else entirely. The iron that covered it was not for function. It was for surviving fire.

Every line of the thing said the same thing.

It was born for war.

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