CH414 · Rewrite
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Chapter 414: The Conspiracy

“What are you talking about?” Spear’s voice went flat with disbelief. “Devil’s minion. That’s a fabrication.”

“His Reverence will draw his own conclusions,” Redwyne said, louder now—performing for the room. “You deceived Father. That’s already over. Soon everyone will know who you really are. You belong in hell!”

“Tell me: did you invent this, or did someone invent it for you?” Spear’s tone had turned to ice. “I suspect the latter. Father chose me because you and our brother were useless.”

“Shut—”

A sharp noise, then Spear’s grunt of pain.

“Enough,” someone else said, calm and final. “Bring her to the church for questioning. She’s still a member of the nobility until verdict—maintain the forms.”

The Judgement Warriors filed out with Spear Passi between them. Soon only two voices remained in the room, visible to Nightingale only as dark holes in her field of vision—the God’s Stones of Retaliation they wore blotted everything out. She placed one voice as Redwyne. The other was new.

“You’ve done well, Mr. Redwyne. Perhaps I should address you as Earl going forward.”

“So it’s settled, Mr. Rosad?” Redwyne’s excitement leaked through every word. “The earldom is mine? The Lord’s title?”

“As long as you honor our agreement, you may go even further.”

“What comes next?” Eager, almost breathless. “Can I take her room? She won’t be leaving her cell—”

“Spear Passi will be hanged as a witch in the square. That was the condition.” A pause. “As for what follows—I’d recommend calling her ministers, knights, and men together and distributing her authority among them. Give everyone a stake in the new arrangement.”

“Do I really have to do all that?”

“If everyone benefits, your position becomes much harder to challenge. It clears the way for our future plans.” Rosad’s voice didn’t change texture. “If you find administration difficult, the church can assign a priest to advise you.”

“Yes—please, that would help.”

“Good. Having a compliant lord here serves us well.” A sound that might have been a satisfied laugh. “The church is glad to help with such things.”

Both men left.

Nightingale stepped out of the Mist. Lightning and Maggie appeared a moment later from their respective perches.

“We have a problem.” She looked at both of them. “The church arrives at exactly the right moment. That kind of timing doesn’t happen on accident.”

“They said her brother found out she was a witch and told the church,” Lightning said. Her eyes were bright—the expression of someone who’d already decided what came next. “Now we have something to do.”

“Why didn’t he find out before? Why now?” Nightingale frowned. “Something’s wrong.”

“Whatever it is, we’re not going to watch them execute her.” Lightning lifted her chin. “We rescue her and destroy the church.”

“Destroy it, coo!”

“Your confidence has grown considerably since the battle with the demons.” Nightingale shook her head. “That’s not always a good sign. We can’t defeat the church outright—not yet. But they built this conspiracy around a false accusation. If we dismantle the conspiracy, Spear’s position reverts. And if we pull her out of that cell, she’ll have every reason to come back to Border Town with us.”

“We’re not fighting?” Lightning’s face fell.

“Fighting is the last option. They outnumber us and they have God’s Stones of Retaliation everywhere. Routing all of them at once is a serious risk.” She thought for a moment. “I’ll go to the church first and learn what I can.”

One thing she kept to herself: if Spear believed Roland had arranged this, the mission was over before it began. That had to be avoided.

“What about us?” Lightning asked.

“Be ready to meet me outside.”


The church of Fallen Dragon Ridge stood at the city’s edge—modest in scale, a prayer hall and residential quarters and a three-story tower enclosed by a single wall with one gate. Nothing that could slow Nightingale for more than a few seconds.

She had the layout mapped by the time the evening faithful dispersed. The God’s Stones were thick—more here than in the castle—but navigable. One stone occupied the prayer hall’s center, a heavy suppressor designed to kill any magic in the room; certain corridors had stones built into the walls. She detoured around them, or simply passed over the relevant floorboards.

She found Spear Passi in the tower basement: unhurt, frustrated, walled in by iron. Nightingale marked the time, finalized a plan with Lightning and Maggie, and went back in to wait.

She chose the top floor. The largest room. The priest would be here, and a priest with questions in him usually answered them eventually under the right kind of pressure.


When the tower’s bell struck nine, the door opened.

She drew her dagger but held still. Two sets of footsteps.

“What an unexpected bonus.” A woman’s voice—cool, with something underneath it that wasn’t quite warmth. “We had no idea Marquess Spear was a witch. We’ll need to adjust the plan.”

“Lady Saint,” Rosad said, his tone several registers more deferential than it had been with Redwyne. “Doesn’t this make things more convincing?”

“It changes things. According to the Supreme Pontiff’s current orders, any newly discovered witch is to be transferred to the Holy City for execution immediately.” The woman was matter-of-fact about it. “For the public execution here, substitute a masked death-row prisoner of similar build. Let the locals see a burning.”

“Understood. But why has His Holiness set such a demanding protocol—delivering witches to Hermes?”

“I don’t know the reasoning. My superiors say it’s a return to tradition.” The Saint’s voice went a degree colder. “You don’t need to know more than that. Finish the matter here. I’ll be leaving for Redwater City once it’s done.”

“Yes.”

Who is she? The Priest had practically folded himself in half with deference. The church hadn’t known Spear was a witch before they grabbed her—this whole operation had been about the title, not the witch. So the witch-accusation was a convenience, discovered after the fact.

Nightingale stepped from cover inside the Mist to get a look.

The woman wore no God’s Stone of Retaliation. Inside the Mist, the magic power moving through her body blazed like a lamp in a dark room—the only color in the black-and-white world.

She’s a witch.

“Who’s there?” The woman’s head turned instantly toward Nightingale. A silver light launched across the room.

Nightingale moved before she thought.

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