CH032 · Rewrite
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Chapter 32: Knight

White ceiling. Sunlight through a window, too bright to look at directly.

Brian lay still for a moment and registered that he was not dead.

This required some adjustment. He tried moving his hands and found he could manage his fingers. The rest of his body reported back with the kind of exhausted distance that described significant blood loss — present, functional, not to be relied upon for anything ambitious. When a maid appeared and began to help him sit up he did not resist, though the care of two young women fussing over his face with a basin was so foreign to his experience that he was not sure where to put his eyes.

The prince arrived and the maids left.

Brian had imagined this meeting in many forms, in the years when having an audience with the fourth prince had been a distant aspiration of his career. He had not imagined it from a bed, in someone else’s nightclothes, with a chest wound that pulled every time he breathed.

“I know what you did,” Roland said. He sat down beside the bed and spoke without ceremony. “You deserve the word hero, Brian.”

Brian’s throat closed. He shook his head once. “Your Highness — my friend. Greyhound. He’s the—” He couldn’t get the rest of it out.

Roland rested a hand on his shoulder and waited.

When Brian could speak again, he asked what had happened to Fierce Scar. Roland told him: interrogation, confession, the full chain of instruction traced back to Count Elk of Longsong Stronghold through a distant relative named Hiller Dmitry. The conspiracy had aimed not at assassination but at starvation — burn the food, force the prince’s retreat to the stronghold, cede Border Town to Duke Ryan’s effective control.

Greyhound’s death was named in the confession. Greyhound had refused and been killed for it. Brian heard this and closed his eyes.

“Greyhound will have a proper funeral and his family will be cared for,” Roland said. “They won’t go hungry. I give you my word.”

Brian breathed. “Fierce Scar,” he said carefully. “What happens to him?”

“Execution by hanging. Three days from now.” Roland looked at him steadily. “If you’re recovered enough to stand by then, you’re welcome to attend.”

Brian opened his eyes. “He has a noble connection. His uncle—”

“Hiller Dmitry is a distant relative of Count Elk, who is a vassal of Duke Ryan. That connection does not make Fierce Scar a nobleman — he holds no title, no land, nothing a court would recognize as noble standing. Without that standing, the exemption doesn’t apply.” Roland’s voice was even, but the evenness was deliberate, the voice of a man who has made a decision and will not revisit it. “And even if it did apply: he led an armed intrusion into the prince’s castle, attempted to destroy food supplies during a period of imminent famine, and caused the death of an innocent man. There is no protection that covers all three.”

Brian lay back against the pillow. In all his years in this town, he had watched wealth and connection dissolve consequences that should have been permanent. He had stopped expecting otherwise. Now a prince was telling him, in a steady voice, that Fierce Scar would hang.

“Rest,” Roland said, rising. “When the Months of the Demons are over, I’ll hold a canonization ceremony. You’ll receive your knighthood then, Brian.”

Brian stared at him.

“Did you think I was going to forget?” Roland smiled — not the stiff smile of ceremony, something warmer than that. “Get some sleep.”


Van’er’s one-hundredth pike thrust of the morning landed at the same angle as his ninety-ninth.

This had not been true a week ago. A week ago each thrust had been different — different timing, different grip pressure, different entry angle, the natural chaos of a man learning to make his body do something it had never done. Now it was the same, because Iron Axe had spent the week removing every variable until the motion was only motion. Not thought. Not decision. Thrust.

Van’er sat down in the mud when the rest came and exhaled completely.

He understood now what the first week of standing had been for. Not endurance — or not only endurance. The standing had trained him to hold a position until ordered to change it, which turned out to be the same skill required to hold a pike formation in a line while someone was shouting at you. He had not expected to find the connection. He had found it the first time Iron Axe yelled hold and Van’er’s body held before his brain could panic.

The militia now wore leather armor. They stood on the city wall to train rather than on the grass field. Van’er looked down from the wall at the six-hundred-foot gap between the river and the mountain, and felt the abstract weight of it become something specific.

He was going to be on this wall when the beasts came. He had known this for weeks, but knowing and knowing were different.

He was still sitting with this when the prince appeared on the wall.

Roland walked the line slowly, pausing occasionally. When he reached Van’er he stopped. “Is the training too hard? Are three meals enough?”

Van’er dropped to one knee. He had never been spoken to by royalty. He could not later recall what he’d answered.

But when Roland addressed the whole line and asked for comments, Van’er’s brain cleared. He stood up and said what he had been calculating for days: one hundred men could not hold six hundred feet of wall against a serious assault. The arithmetic was straightforward.

Roland listened. He nodded. Then he said: “You’re right. We can’t spread one hundred men across six hundred feet and expect it to hold.” He looked along the wall, then at Iron Axe. “Which is why we’re not going to defend the whole wall at once. We’re going to funnel them.”

Fences. Slopes. Ditches on the sides, guiding anything with legs toward a single designated point. Demon beasts without intelligence could be herded by obstacles the way water is herded by a channel. Iron Axe would know how — he knew the beasts’ specific fears, the hydrophobia of wolves and the photophobia of boars. The animals would go where they were guided, and at the place they arrived, the militia would be waiting with something more than pikes.

“What kind of weapon?” Iron Axe asked.

“Come and see,” Roland said. He turned to Van’er before leaving. “Your name.”

“Van’er, Your Highness.”

“I’ll recommend you for vice-captain, Van’er.” Roland nodded once. “Good work.”

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