CH366 · Rewrite
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Chapter 366: Paper

During the Months of Demons, with the snowfall closing every road, the Redwater River became the only passage left in the Western Region.

Compared to the small sailboat Petrov had made the journey in before, the Lionheart was another order of thing entirely — room enough for a galley, sleeping quarters at the stern in the old Duke’s private cabin, where windows let him look straight down at the grey current and the floating ice that slid beneath the hull. The river moved even when everything else had stopped.

“Sir, the egg soup you requested.” Sise brought in a clay jar and a ceramic bowl and set them on the table.

“Thank you.” Petrov nodded toward the second bowl. “Sit down and have some yourself. Warm up.”

After His Highness had drafted the knights of the other four noble families to Border Town, those families had wasted no time following their men — sending their households after them, then taking up whatever empty lands remained or annexing them outright. Only the Honeysuckle Family had come through the war with its forces largely intact, and had moved quickly since. They now stood well above the other four, and had begun filling the ranks of their platoon again with promising recruits. Sise was one of those recruits — not as celebrated as some of the older names, but solid, and one of the better young knights in the family.

“Yes, Sir.” He smiled, lifted the jar’s lid, and poured. “But… Sir, do you really think this is all right?”

“The witch?”

“Yes.” Sise chose his words carefully, weighing each one before setting it down. “Even though the church here burned down, it’s easy enough to rebuild. The Church will surely return to the Western Region someday. If you lay the blame entirely on Prince Roland, there’s nothing they can do to you directly. But rescuing a witch in public, arresting the church’s believers…” He hesitated. “That’s outright opposition.”

Petrov blew across the surface of the soup, watching the steam curl and break. “If rebuilding is so easy, why is that church still a pile of rubble?”

Sise blinked, uncertain.

“The Church will not return to the Western Region.” Petrov took a small sip, let the warmth settle. “An escrow’s most important duty is to understand his superior’s true intentions. His Highness normalizes education in the Stronghold, sends soldiers trained in Border Town’s methods, puts plays with obvious messages on every stage — all of it working toward the same end: weakening the Church’s hold. Since I govern this region in his name, I follow his intentions. If I can’t grasp even that much, he’ll replace me with someone who can.” He shrugged. “Preventing the church from rebuilding is simple. The stonemasons and carpenters have their warnings. Even if the believers wanted to rebuild on their own, the Rats wouldn’t allow any craftsman to take the work.”

“But the Church itself—”

“Since His Highness did it, he’s not afraid of their retaliation. Which means he’s confident he can hold them off. If they ever set foot in the Western Region again, it will mean the prince has failed. If he fails, I won’t keep my seat in the Stronghold regardless.” Petrov looked at him over the bowl. “You understand this.”

Sise was quiet. Then: “Do you think Prince Roland can defeat the Church’s army?”

“Who knows?” Petrov shook his head and smiled — a merchant’s smile, pricing risk without sentimentality. “A year ago, no one thought he could fend off Duke Ryan’s knights.” He stood, lifted the jar. “I’m going to check on the girl. She might be hungry.”


The girl’s name was Paper.

Only orphans acquired names like that — names given not with tenderness but by necessity, reaching for the nearest thing at hand.

Since boarding the ship, she had not moved from her place in the below-deck cabin. She sat on bare planking, back against the curved hull, arms wrapped around her knees, entirely still. Her hands had gone red with cold and she was visibly shivering. For safety’s precaution, Petrov had placed a God’s Stone of Retaliation around her neck. His Highness kept insisting that witches were ordinary people — but someone with powers like hers, in a state of fear, was a variable Petrov wasn’t prepared to leave unmanaged.

“Why aren’t you in the hammock?” He pointed at the canvas sling hanging across the cabin. Sailors’ sleeping arrangements were rough enough, but they were warm.

“I’d get it dirty,” she said, barely above a whisper.

“Sailors aren’t cleaner than you.” He found a dry patch of planking and sat. “This journey takes three days. Are you going to sit like this the entire time? I’m worried you’ll starve before we reach Border Town.”

She looked up. “Border Town?”

“Didn’t I say? You’re going to a place fit for witches to live.” He uncorked the jar. “Drink some of this. Then get in the hammock.”

She didn’t argue this time. It was apparent she was starving — she drank without waiting for the soup to cool, taking it straight from the jar, barely flinching. Petrov watched her. Thin as wire, hair matted with dirt and something worse, her clothes a collection of salvaged scraps with holes worn through in three places. She looked no different from any of the other orphans who moved through Longsong Stronghold’s outer districts — and there were always more of them.

“The boy who was protecting you,” Petrov said. “Your orphan friend?”

“Snaketooth.” She swallowed, pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth for warmth. “He… often brought us food.” A pause. “If I go with you, you won’t… arrest him? He’s not a witch.”

“Of course not.” He kept his face neutral. “He isn’t important.” But the phrase had caught his attention: often brought us food. There were few like that in the slums. Hunger drove people inward — it took something unusual to keep giving when you barely had enough for yourself. And the name Snaketooth sounded like a Rat’s name.

“You said ‘us,’” he said. “Were there other witches besides you?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Just orphans.”

Some small tension in his chest eased. “So what was that woman talking about — using your abilities in public? I’ve never heard of a witch doing that.”

Paper was quiet for a moment, as though measuring how much to say. “It was Snaketooth’s idea. He said I could help the residents clear snow off their rooftops in exchange for food, and no one would go hungry. The theater puts on stories about witches all the time. He said no one is afraid of them now, and as long as I was willing, he could negotiate with the adults.”

Resourceful child. Petrov felt the corner of his mouth twitch. Knew how to make use of what he had. Just underestimated how long the Church’s roots hold.

“And did it work? Did you get food in exchange?”

“Um…” She looked down. “I cleared three rooftops. One family chased me away. The other two gave me half a loaf of bread and a pancake. But when I got to the fourth…”

The woman had been waiting. Petrov set his hand briefly on top of her matted head — one brief touch, the way you’d steady something fragile before moving on. “Get some rest when you’re done. I’ll send someone for you at dinnertime.”

Three days later, the Lionheart came around the river’s final bend and the harbor of Border Town opened ahead.

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