CH237 · Rewrite
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Chapter 237: Invitation

Back in his office, Roland spread fresh paper and began drawing.

The days since the First Army and witches had departed for King’s City had been, paradoxically, the busiest of his year. Without Nightingale, without the expedition contingent, the shape of Border Town’s problems changed—less immediate and deadly, more structural, requiring the kind of patient sustained work that he found easier to lose himself in. Even the rare quiet evenings with Anna were rare in practice: there were too many displaced people to house, too many processes to establish, too many machines left unbuilt.

The smelting work had absorbed weeks. The old method—all accumulated feel, no verifiable standard—had been replaced. With Lucia’s material decomposition ability providing exact composition data after every melt, Roland could now write down the process: stirring time, charcoal quantities, limestone for sulfur and phosphorus, alloy ratios. The same quality of iron ingot. The same quality of steel. Every time. A craft that had spent centuries inside individual craftsmen’s hands had been made into something transferable.

The new furnace was built for this—four meters square, two high, tilted to a steam-driven discharge gate, Anna’s black fire replacing what would otherwise have needed a combustion system. Fifty tons a melt. Half an hour to smelt. An hour total. Sufficient.

What he was drawing now was the bullet stamping equipment—because Anna’s black fire was precise but slow, and a line of stamping machines with thirty ordinary operators could produce ten thousand rounds a day, and soldiers would no longer reload by hand.

He drew past dinner. The midnight bell rang while his pen was still moving. He put it down, looked at the twelve sheets spread across the desk—initial concepts, details still to be tested—and felt something he rarely felt at the end of a workday: not tired, not drained, but wound tighter than when he’d started.

He gathered the drafts. Put them away. Took Tilly’s letter from the drawer.

If this were any other evening he would already be half asleep. Tonight he wasn’t even close. He gathered the drafts, put them away, and took Tilly’s letter out of the drawer.

The appended list.

More than sixty auxiliary witches with their abilities described. From what Maggie had told him, Sleeping Island sheltered somewhere between two and three hundred people—meaning Tilly had chosen carefully what to share. A reasonable opening move from a careful leader. She had offered enough to demonstrate sincerity without surrendering everything at once.

He put up a fresh candle and began reading through the names.

By the time he had gone through the list three times, comparing against Border Town’s current needs and future trajectory, he had his five. He set the list aside, drew a new sheet of parchment toward him, and began writing.


My dear sister—I am very glad to have received your letter.

I am both excited and pleased by your decision. With your assistance, my chances of withstanding the Church’s eventual assault improve considerably.

As for how I obtained the witches’ trust: the reason is simply this. Within all of Graycastle, Border Town alone has completely erased the Church’s influence. The native population does not merely tolerate witches—they fight alongside them. From the battle against the demonic beasts through the confrontation with the Church’s forces, my people and the witches have become inseparable. Witches can be seen throughout the town, participating in construction, operating machinery. The steam engine you found interesting was possible only because of a witch. This is not the end but the beginning—my intention is to extend this to the Western Territory, and eventually the whole kingdom.

To do that, the Church must be entirely dismantled, and their teaching that witches are the Devil’s messengers must be turned to dust. Rescuing an entire civilization from that kind of ignorance will be slow work. But I cannot do it without your help.

As for what changed me—that is a long story, better told in person than on paper. There is not space here to do it justice.

Concerning the visit next month: I look forward to it. There is a route I have already planned that avoids the Church’s eyes and ears from beginning to end, requiring no harbor passage. The only risk is the navigation itself—but if you allow Maggie to fly ahead and show the way, the possibility of losing the route is small. I will attach the map to Maggie when I send her back.

When the witches arrive, they will of course attend the Basic Knowledge lessons. I am more and more convinced that what drives evolution is not the knowledge itself, but a deeper understanding of the world—of nature, of magic, of oneself. Every witch who evolves is one more reason for the Church to be afraid of us. On this we are agreed.

The five I have selected from your list:

Land Shaper — Lotus. State Preserver — Candle. Winemaker — Evelyn. Beast Tamer — Honey. And Eye of Truth — Sylvie.

I wish you all the best. Your brother, Roland Wimbledon.

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