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Chapter 281: Redwater River Ambush (Part Two)

Compared to Lotus, who could only survey the battle from an elevated distance, Sylvie saw everything close—too close.

Through the packed earth walls of the soil houses, her Eye of Truth stripped away the barriers. She watched the soldiers work in a silence so orderly it resembled ritual. Seven or eight men moved as one body, each performing a single motion, the whole flowing like water around stones. Paper bags and iron balls queued in the compartment behind the gun. A soldier lit the rope at the breech. The spark jumped inward.

What followed happened faster than thought.

The light expanded. Orange-red filled the iron pipe from end to end—she had to shut her eyes against it, the brilliance reaching her even through the Eye’s connection. When she could look again, the flame had already spent itself against the iron ball, and the ball had already crossed the river. It struck the ship’s planking and punched through, leaving a fist-sized hole. Slowed but not stopped. A man was climbing from the cabin hatch when the ball found him. It tore him in two.

Sylvie had never seen this before—not a blade, not a sword, not even a blade: just one blunt iron sphere, and a man in two pieces.

She was watching from inside the cabin, in her mind. The blood reached her.

It didn’t stop with him. The ball struck others in its path, shearing limbs, shattering heads. The hold filled with black-red filth. What had been men became pieces. The smell she could not smell. The sight she could not look away from.

Her stomach turned over.

“Blergh—” The Eye snapped shut. Sylvie broke the connection and lurched forward, her body making the decision before she did.

“What happened?” Lotus was at her side instantly, hands on her shoulders. “Are you all right?”

The Prince turned from the observation slope and held out a handkerchief without comment. “If the blood is too much, don’t look. Especially not from inside the range. Go rest.”

“Thank you.” She wiped her mouth. Took a breath. “I’m all right.”

This is the weapon Maggie and Lightning had described—the incredible invention. She hadn’t listened closely enough. Without having seen it, it had been impossible to imagine.

She turned back to the battlefield, not through the Eye this time—only her own two eyes, from a distance. Timothy’s fleet was pressing toward both shores. The commanders had finally recognized the source of the thunder: those disguised soil houses, built into the slopes like earthen bunkers. What they hadn’t recognized yet was the second ring of fortifications, set further back, concealed under living vines and weeds. Their length matched the fleet’s column exactly. Whatever point the soldiers chose to land, they would step into a second vice.

The only escape had been to turn the bows around and withdraw at the first sound of cannon fire. That moment had passed.

The soldiers in the further bunkers carried long iron instruments—not cannon, not quite—that fired a single sharp arrowhead. Smaller than the iron balls. Less fearsome, at first glance. But Sylvie watched the arrowheads drill through armor that stopped sword-blows without effort, and understood the difference did not matter. The enemy soldiers waded ashore expecting a counter-offensive. The soldiers in the bunkers never showed their faces. They aimed through the slots, pulled the triggers, and the arrowheads fell like summer rain.

The frontline broke within minutes.

The men who had landed turned back toward the ships. The men still aboard crowded the railings waiting for others to flee. The gangplanks sagged, cracked, spilled men into the river. Men climbing the hull were shot off it. What had been a fleet became chaos—screaming, splashing, flailing.

“It’s time.” The Prince lowered his observation mirror. “Iron Axe—take the reserve and clean the field. If any lead knights survived, arrest as many as you can. I want to speak with them.”

“Yes.” A salute, crisp.

He glanced at Sylvie. “Go with Iron Axe. Make sure none slip away.”

She nodded and fell in behind the First Army commander as they moved down from the hill.

Walking away from the observation point, Sylvie turned Roland’s words over in her mind—none slip away. She thought about the cannon, the arrowheads, the precision of the bunkers, the impossible range. She thought about the Church’s God’s Punishment Army, the instrument the Church used to remind every witch exactly what she was worth.

With such a force in his hands, would even the God’s Punishment Army be enough?

If Lady Tilly could secure even a part of this—if the witches of Sleeping Island could stand behind weapons like these—there might come a day when returning to the mainland was not a fantasy told to frightened girls.

She kept that thought close, and followed Iron Axe toward the river.


By evening, the battlefield was clean.

Iron Axe returned with two captives and three personal guards. The men were still bound.

“I’m Knight Sznak,” one of them announced before Roland had spoken. “Your Highness, allow me to write to my family. They will pay a generous ransom.”

“I am the second son of the Shield family, Northern Border—Elvin Shield.” The younger one straightened what dignity remained. “I am also willing to pay.”

Roland regarded them both. “Then the attack was led by you?”

“No—the captain was Sir Vincent. He’s dead.” Sznak shifted in his bindings. “Your Highness, could you have your man untie my hands? I’m entitled to the traditional treatment during the redemption period.”

“I don’t need a ransom,” Roland said. “Tell me the target of your mission. The plan. Timothy’s broader intentions. Everything you know—and I’ll give you what you deserve.”

The knight hesitated. “I… cannot. Forgive me. I’m unable.”

The young man from the Shield family met Roland’s eyes steadily. “I swore loyalty to His Majesty Timothy. This would violate my oath.”

“As you like.” Roland’s expression didn’t shift. “Take them away for now.”

When the guards had gone, he looked at Iron Axe. “I was told you served as the Patriarch’s guard in Iron Sand City. That you have particular skill at gathering intelligence.”

“Yes, Your Royal Highness. There are very few people who can conceal things from me.”

“Then I give you both men.” Roland turned to leave. “Your methods are unrestricted. As long as you get what we need.”

Iron Axe hesitated. “The ransom—”

“I said from the beginning: I don’t want it.” Roland’s voice was quiet and final. “When the questioning is done, treat it as though they fell in battle.”

They came here to oppress commoners and invade the Western Territory, he thought, stepping out into the cooling dusk. This is what they deserve.

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