Chapter 386: A Different Story
After a busy week, Roland had a new chemical factory standing beside the Redwater River.
Given the toxicity of nitrogen oxide, the building’s design was closer to the Convenience Market’s than to any enclosed structure — open walls, wooden roof, a full story of gap built into the middle, ventilation that could charitably be called aggressive. The temperature inside was essentially the same as outside. That was by intent.
The new oxygen and nitrogen synthesizing system was already running. Anna’s Blackfire produced heat comparable to an electric arc, instantaneous and enormously efficient. Eight minutes from raw materials to nitrogen dioxide; nitrogen dioxide combined with water to yield nitric acid. The process that had once required days of careful work now moved like clockwork.
The ammonia synthesis line was running in parallel. The liquid nitrogen yield from the cooling stage was substantially larger than the liquid oxygen yield, so the excess nitrogen fed directly into ammonia production. Roland had kept the older nitric acid production lines running alongside the new ones — every additional line was another path toward chemical explosives, and he wanted as many paths as he could maintain.
Paper’s ability, tested and confirmed, was real: she could accelerate the nitrogen-hydrogen reaction to something approaching instantaneous. The remaining limitation was endurance. She still couldn’t sustain her magic power at a stable level for extended periods, and her small reserve depleted quickly. According to Wendy, she was improving steadily — a week, maybe, before she could maintain consistent output. Roland filed that as a near-term gain and moved on.
With two production lines running and the glycerol nitrification output stable, modern smokeless powder had become a realistic goal. The next step was a repeating firearm. The design was already taking shape in the back of his mind — he needed to transfer it to paper and get production started.
He was reviewing the design’s chief constraint — the bolt mechanism — when a guard knocked and entered.
“Sir Ferlin Eltek and his father Duke Eltek are here to see you, Your Highness. They’re waiting in the lobby.”
Ferlin. He paused. The First Knight of the Western Region — all of whose family should have been in Longsong Stronghold. “Did they say what they wanted?”
“Sir Ferlin said it concerned witches, and asked me to give you this.” The guard produced a piece of delicate parchment.
Roland unrolled it. The map that Lightning had once used to find Agatha’s stone tower — the one Ferlin said had been in his family for four hundred years. The original had been a rough draft. This reproduction was almost printed in its precision.
His interest sharpened. “Go and fetch Agatha — she should still be in the chemistry lab. Tell her it’s important. I’ll go meet them now.”
He rolled the map back up and went down to the lobby.
Ferlin and an older man rose and bowed immediately. Both wore thick leather jackets. Sweat darkened the older man’s shoulders; his forehead was damp. Roland looked at the fireplace and back at them.
“If you’re too warm, take off your coats. The castle runs central heating — it’s warmer in here than it looks.” He smiled. “I wouldn’t want you falling ill.”
“Heating?” Ferlin blinked.
“A new type of equipment. Much more efficient than a fireplace.” Roland didn’t linger on the explanation. “I understand you came about witches?”
“Yes, Your Highness.” Ferlin — Morning Light — nodded quickly and summarized the past few days: a woman with blue hair encountered at the Convenience Market, a return home, his father’s account of their family history, and the conclusion they’d reached. “I thought she might be a witch.”
Roland absorbed this. He hadn’t imagined Agatha would have mortal relatives who survived to the present day. “There is indeed a witch here by that name. She’s on her way.”
Duke Eltek was on his feet before the sentence was finished, his face flushed with something that had been waiting too long to stay contained. “Then could Your Highness allow us to—”
“Meet her?” Roland nodded. “Of course. While we wait, though — as a courtesy to a witch, I’d suggest removing that God’s Stone of Retaliation you’re wearing.”
“Of course.” The Duke fumbled with his shirt and set the stone on the table.
“There was no such courtesy in Taquila four hundred years ago.” Nightingale’s voice, barely a breath, arrived at Roland’s ear. “Witches weren’t yet being hunted like animals. This stone is nothing but research material to Agatha.”
“This way, you can also determine whether their story is true,” Roland said, keeping his expression neutral.
He felt Nightingale’s fingers find the back of his neck and pinch.
“Liar.”
He managed not to smile.
The lobby door opened.
“Why did you summon me back?” Agatha pushed through and demanded, snow still dusting the brim of her hat. “The Battle of Divine Will is approaching and every hour I spend away from the lab is an hour we’re not producing — ” She stopped herself when she registered the strangers, swallowing whatever word had been coming next. “If this isn’t urgent, a message would have been sufficient.”
Working alongside Kyle Sichi had clearly left traces. The impatience was almost alchemical. Roland cleared his throat. “This is quite urgent. Four hundred years ago, as Taquila was collapsing during the Battle of Divine Will, do you remember a group of your servants who became separated from you and followed the refugee masses south across the Impassable Mountain Range?”
Agatha pulled off her snow-covered hat and shook out her blue hair. “Vaguely. That was a long time ago. What of it?”
When she turned to fully face the room, Ferlin and the Duke both drew a breath. The Duke’s knees folded and he was on the floor before he seemed to decide to kneel.
“You really are Lady Agatha.”
“And you are…?” She frowned.
“A descendant of Kagar.” His voice was unsteady. He looked up at her with an expression that had been compressed for a very long time. “Do you still remember that name?”
“Kagar.” She went still for a moment — a different kind of stillness than her usual impatience. “Of course I remember. I gave him that name.” Her shoulders shifted slightly. “I purchased two mortal servants. One I named Kaff — he was the head of my household guard. The other was Kagar, my housekeeper.” Her eyes had gone somewhere cooler. “So you’re the descendants of the housekeeper who slipped away with my Magic Stones and my experiment notes.”
“Slipped — away?” The Duke stared. “No, he—”
“Get out.” Agatha’s voice dropped flat. “I have no interest in speaking with you.”
She left the room without looking back and gave neither of them the chance to say another word.