CH191 · Rewrite
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Chapter 191: The New King’s Bared Teeth

Petrov sipped his black tea, settled deeper into the lord’s chair, and let out a long breath.

Two months since the takeover of Longsong Stronghold, and he was discovering, to his own mild surprise, that he liked the hall more with every passing week. The stepped construction was the key — the way it let him look down the length of the room from the lord’s seat, the assembled officials and attendants arranged below like figures in a counting-house ledger. Power had a geometry. He was beginning to understand it.

The first month had been turbulent. A handful of minor nobles had tried the usual gambits: open questioning, whispered riot-plots, the usual undercurrent stirred from behind by the Elk, Wolf, and several other large families. Following his father’s advice, Petrov had delivered the worst offenders — serfs and backstreet provocateurs — directly to the gallows, while the nobles were imprisoned, ransomed, and expelled from the Western Territory. The method had the cold efficiency of a good blade: applied once, and the wound did not reopen.

With the exception of the Honeysuckle family, the knights of every other family sat behind bars in Border Town. There was no one left to build resistance around. Afterward, he had guided interest with the lighter hand — announcing that the stronghold would compensate the great families for losses during the seizure, drawing them into a circle of shared stake.

Thirty percent of the stronghold’s income flowed north to Border Town. The remaining seventy was divided: thirty to keep the city running, twenty to placate the noble families, twenty invested in the Hull territory.

On the wall behind the lord’s seat, Duke Ryan’s portrait had come down the first week. The fourth prince’s face now looked out over the hall — Roland Wimbledon, young and unremarkable in profile, whatever the painter had tried to do. Petrov found his gaze going to it sometimes. One day, he thought, it will be mine.

When the Hull family truly held Longsong Stronghold — not as administrators but as the Dukes it was shaping them to become — the taxes spent appeasing other nobles could be redirected into trade, and the thirty percent flowing north could become something renegotiated rather than owed. The fifty percent now spent on appeasement, recaptured, could compound into something generational.

The premise for all of it was Roland Wimbledon surviving long enough to take the throne of Graycastle.

“My lord.” One of his guards entered and crossed the floor with a letter. “News from Border Town.”

Petrov straightened immediately.

The envelope was cheap — the kind a serf would manage. When he unfolded the papyrus inside, the poor quality confirmed it: one of the men he’d slipped into Border Town disguised as artisans or farmhands, writing by charcoal in stolen moments. The letter showed water damage. Someone had written this in hiding, probably in the rain, probably pressed close against a wall.

He’d dispatched several confidants two months ago when the true scale of the Duke’s defeat became clear. Each had a task: embed, observe, report. They were all supposed to be knowledgeable — knights in borrowed clothes, not real serfs. But so far only two of the “serfs” had reported back. The “craftsmen” and “herders” had gone silent, as if the town had swallowed them. Betrayed by their own will, or found out and removed?

He set the question aside and read.

The first paragraph described towers being built along the Redwater River — three of them already standing, each as tall as the stronghold’s walls, with massive iron vessels mounted at the top. The blacksmiths had forged the iron pot in town, then transported it whole to the site. The First Army had stood around one such tower with their backs to the iron vessel, and on the following day the tower had been raised — the word used was the same one that kept appearing in these letters: building.

Always building. Last time it had been roads and a bridge. Before that, the river dock. What were towers with iron pots for? His men were supposed to be capable of identifying a watchtower at first glance, but the towers hadn’t been completed yet, so he could not say for certain. He noted it for next month’s report.

The second paragraph: a large merchant fleet of unknown ownership had anchored at Border Town’s dock for a week, then departed east. They had offloaded ore and saltpeter. The saltpeter he could explain — summer heat, cooling drinks, the usual royal comforts. But ore? Border Town sat at the foot of the Impassable Mountain Range and had its own mine. Before the Months of Demons, the prince had boasted he would double production. And now the town was importing ingots?

Petrov frowned at the page. Iron towers with unknown purpose and ore flowing in rather than out. He could not make the picture cohere.

Then the last paragraph.

He read it twice to be certain.

Border Town had been holding open-air theater performances in the town square. No admission charged. The drama’s title was unheard of. They were encouraging serfs to attend. And one of the performers — confirmed by his source, who had seen her face clearly — was Miss May. The Star of the West. Missing from Longsong Stronghold for weeks, cause unknown, theater management evasive.

She had gone to Border Town. To perform in front of serfs.

The stronghold’s theater had been in crisis since her disappearance. Three productions left empty at the leading role. Nobles walking out mid-act to register their protest. And here she was — at the edge of the known world, standing on a square stage built for farm workers.

Petrov rubbed his jaw. He should write to His Royal Highness. Formally. As a theater enthusiast — and he genuinely was — he could claim the news had reached him through merchant gossip, a peddler returned from the western road. Nothing in the letter that would expose his embedded scouts.

He was reaching for paper when the door opened.

“My lord.” The knight who entered was already moving fast. “A message from the east gate. A company of knights is approaching the stronghold.”

Petrov came to his feet. “The flag?”

“Tower and two pikes, my lord. If they’re not impostors — they’re flying the new king’s colors.”

The tea had gone cold. He set the cup down very carefully.

Timothy.

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