CH282 · Rewrite
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Chapter 282: The Stage

Iron Axe brought the intelligence report the morning after their return to Border Town’s castle.

Roland read the first line, then looked up. “These men were only Timothy’s advance troops?”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Iron Axe nodded. “Exactly as you previously guessed. Sending one militia wave after another is Timothy Wimbledon’s standard tactic. He used it against Garcia’s Port of Clear Water as well.”

“The force—entirely commoners?”

“Mostly. Some criminals and street rats, but the majority were refugees, pressed from across the kingdom.” Iron Axe’s voice held no emotion, which made it worse. “According to the captured knights: lured first with verbal promises, then fed the pills. After that, they had no choice but to accept control. The only way to ease the pain was more doses.”

“And they don’t know that more doses only delays their death.” Roland exhaled. “Timothy never told them about the side effects. They believed the new King would honor his promises after the war.”

“Yes, Your Royal Highness.”

“What was the target?”

“Border Town. Knight Vincent—who fell during the battle—had intelligence that Border Town had no city wall, which would make it vulnerable to a war of attrition. He calculated that one thousand drugged militia could inflict three thousand casualties. A crippling blow.” Iron Axe paused. “But that was only part of their mission. Knight Sznak confessed that Timothy also wanted them divided into several waves, each designed to probe your response patterns and measure your combat effectiveness. By now, Timothy should have his answer—there was no report from the lead knight commanding the previous attack, and this time there will be none either.”

Roland gritted his teeth. No one returning, wave after wave. Human beings used as probes, burned for data. Even winning cleanly felt like a kind of wound.

“Did either of them know anything about Timothy’s follow-up forces?”

“Not much. Only that the next wave would be significantly larger.”

The hatred came in clearly—not hot, but cold and precise. You’re forcing people into service, then burning them in waves to gather intelligence. Even a clean victory left corpses on the river and two knights in a cell. Even winning left a kingdom being eaten from within.

Roland pressed both hands flat on the table and thought.

The Months of Demons would seal the land routes soon—deep snow made large troop movements impossible. If Timothy wanted another campaign this year, he had to move before the first snowfall, which meant conscripting refugees before winter locked them away. That was the window. That was the pressure point.

“I want to delay this war,” Roland said.

Iron Axe was quiet for a moment. “An envoy? A diplomatic letter? I doubt Timothy will listen.”

“No. Letters won’t work.” Roland closed his eyes. What actually changes a man’s calculus? “There are two things that matter. First: reduce the population he can press into service. If I can get to those refugees before he does, I strip away his cannon fodder. Second: I need to make him afraid to attack again—genuinely afraid, not merely cautious. Fear of what the Western Territory will do in return.”

He opened his eyes. “Barov’s original plan—spreading news of open land to draw people to us—is too slow and too passive. If I want to gather refugees before Timothy conscripts them, I have to act. Send teams out. Recruit actively, the way I recruited on that last trip to King’s City. The Southern Territory especially—between Eagle City and Port of Clear Water. Those people are already caught between Garcia’s wreckage and Timothy’s ambition. They’ll come if we reach them first.”

“Fifty men would be sufficient for that,” Iron Axe said without hesitation. “We’d be operating away from city centers, so no need to plan for confrontation.”

“Draft the personnel list. I’ll call you back when I have the full plan.” Roland nodded. “There are costs to work out. Food, gold royals—an active recruitment policy draws more people, but the math has to hold.”

Iron Axe inclined his head.

“The second point.” Roland tapped the table. “We send the captured commoners back to King’s City. Let them walk home and tell Timothy what happened on the Redwater River. Let him know that this kind of campaign accomplishes nothing. That he should never try it again.”

“But Your Highness—that exposes our artillery.”

“We reveal nothing he can use.” Roland shook his head slowly. “He’ll learn the range and the power. He won’t learn the principle. He can’t build it. Not at this level of industry. Hot weapons are too far beyond cold weapons—even knowing they exist, even knowing what they can do, doesn’t close the gap. He can’t manufacture what he can’t understand.” He paused. And I need him to know it. That’s half the point. “Besides, those soldiers will also carry a letter.”

“A letter?”

“A warning letter. It will contain a date and a time.” Roland looked at Iron Axe steadily. “On that day, I intend to attack King’s City.”

Silence.

Iron Axe stared. His mouth opened, then closed. Then he snapped to attention, spine straight, and gave a salute that meant something beyond formality. “Your order is sufficient. I will give my life for victory.”

“Relax,” Roland said, with the ghost of a smile. “I’m not asking you to die. The First Army won’t be involved. The witches will do it alone.”

What makes a king afraid? Not a military defeat at the border. Not news of a battle he wasn’t present for. What unmakes a man’s certainty is a strike where he believed himself safe. Inside the palace. Under his own ceiling.

Roland had thought about leaflets—the old wartime trick of dropping paper from the sky, psychological pressure without physical contact. He wouldn’t drop leaflets. He would drop two bombs. The chance of killing Timothy was nearly nothing. That wasn’t the point. The point was to demonstrate that there was no distance that guaranteed safety—that the Western Territory could reach him anywhere, at any moment it chose.

Whether that would stop another large-scale campaign was impossible to guarantee. Nothing was ever guaranteed. But it would change the shape of the calculation.

He’d spent the early months after crossing over disguised, hidden, pretending weakness. That time was over. The pattern of the war had shifted. Step by step, he was climbing toward Graycastle’s political stage—not out of vanity, but because the kind of territory he was building needed to be visible. People needed to know it existed, to believe it was worth the journey.

A ruined kingdom wasn’t worth winning. Fields covered in corpses fed no one.

The sun lowered behind the mountains as Roland opened the office windows. The evening breeze came through cool and steady across his face. Not the burning heat of high summer. Something else, something with a thin sharp edge in it.

Autumn was arriving.

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