Rewrite That Witch
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Chapter 444: The Intelligence

Before the Eltek steward had even left the territory, Roland received a carrier pigeon from the Second Army in Stronghold.

An hour later, Petrov’s own call for help arrived.

A carrier pigeon could only carry so much. Roland held both strips of paper under the lamp and read them against each other, assembling the picture from two partial views. What emerged was astonishing.

The four families of the Western Region had rebelled.

“Who on earth gave them the confidence to plot treason under my nose?” He summoned Carter and Iron Axe immediately and set the notes on the table between them.

“Your Highness, is this—”

“From Stronghold.” Roland’s voice came out harder than he intended. The winter was nearly done. The new year was three days away. The city construction projects demanded his attention, and the Three Supplies Project was at a stage that required his personal instruction at every step. Those nobles chose to trouble me at exactly the wrong moment. They must be eager to die.

The secret letter described it: inner-city nobles leading a pack of squires in an attack on the city guards. By the time the wall sentries understood what was happening, the controls for the northern drawbridge had already changed hands. The sentries lit the beacon fire and held the wall. The Second Army, responding to the signal, split its ten teams across two platoons — one driving toward the north gate, one toward the Stronghold castle. Petrov’s letter was sent during the moment the second platoon made contact with the enemies at the castle and identified the four family banners.

“Petrov Hull mentioned the attackers were carrying the four families’ banners — so this was planned.” Carter read the notes a second time, frowning. “If all four families are acting together, there’s a leader among them.”

The four families — or five, counting those under Duke Ryan — had always been peers. Setting aside their mutual contempt to cooperate required a larger force behind them. Without that, they’d spend a decade debating who should be in charge.

At this moment there were only one or two actors interested enough in the Western Region to provide it.

“Do you mean Timothy? In King’s City?” Iron Axe looked at Carter.

“I wouldn’t rule out the church either,” Roland said. “Given what they did at Fallen Dragon Ridge, they’ll move on the Western Region eventually.” He tapped the table. “The more puzzling thing is what Petrov mentions about firearms. If they’ve actually acquired firearms, it means they know the gunpowder formula.”

“Snow powder isn’t secret to the church or to Timothy,” Carter said, “but mastering it in application takes time. There’s still a long road from knowing the formula to using it well.” He paused. “What I can’t explain is the confidence. Border Town is the nearest city to Stronghold — so whoever is helping them is operating from far away. With that distance and the unknown support, why did they think they could face the First Army?”

“Because it’s the Months of the Demons,” Iron Axe said, after a moment’s thought. “The roads are blocked by snow. Demonic beasts are hitting the borders. To them, this looks like perfect timing — and they’re calculating that it’ll be at least two months before you can move enough force to threaten Longsong Stronghold.”

“And they have the city walls, and whatever firearms they’ve acquired.”

“Yes.” Iron Axe couldn’t suppress a slight smile. “They’ve never seen what Border Town can actually do. They think they have everything you have — plus walls — plus two months of safety. From the outside that looks unbeatable.”

Roland stood up.

“Iron Axe.”

“At your command, Your Highness.”

“The First Army prepares for expedition. We move tomorrow morning.” Roland’s voice was decided. “Five hundred soldiers. Six field artillery pieces. You have full authority over the specific arrangements.”

“Yes, sir!” Iron Axe saluted.

The First Army had quadrupled since its original five hundred — 2,200 men now, carrying revolving rifles, with efficiency and institutional knowledge that made other armies look like they were moving through mud. Upon command, personnel drew ammunition and rations in calculated quantities according to headcount and projected days in the field. The logistics for five hundred men could be assembled in less than a day. Compared with knights or mercenaries, who needed weeks to prepare for any serious movement, Roland’s army operated in a different register entirely.

Eleven paddle steamers carried the expedition force upriver. Since entering mass production, the reinforced concrete hull boats took five days apiece — that was a deliberately moderated pace, limited only by available crew and steam engines.

“Carter.”

“At your command, Your Highness.” The Chief Knight straightened.

“You stay in Border Town.”

The corners of Carter’s mouth fell simultaneously. “Wha — what? No. Your Highness. You can’t leave me behind again.”

“We’re still in the Months of the Demons. Demonic beasts are a more immediate threat than the nobility.” Roland held his gaze. “Guard the town well.”

After they had both withdrawn, Roland exhaled. The witches will have to come.

“I’ll follow you wherever you go,” Nightingale said from the vicinity of his shoulder.

He knew she’d been there. Considering their opponents might include the church, the witches were the only effective counter to Pure Witch interference — absent God’s Stones of Retaliation, which he didn’t want to rely on. After thinking through options, Roland settled on his group: Lightning, Maggie, Sylvie, Nana, Lily, and Nightingale. With the three combat witches from Sleeping Island, it would be very difficult for any Pure Witches to reach him.

He turned to the window. Snow covered the mountains and the plains beyond — a sheet of white from the Impassable Mountain Range to the horizon.

If I think of the Mountain Range as Longsong Stronghold’s city wall, then the Barbarian Land to the north is the four families’ terrain — territory I’ve never been able to touch. The Elk, Wild Rose, Maple Leaf, and Wolf families have each governed their own piece of it for over a decade, building their own laws and customs, seldom interfered with even by Duke Ryan. He had intended to absorb them slowly, after the new city was built. The rebellion had moved that timetable forward — and handed him reason to swallow the entire Western Region at once rather than piecemeal.

He had no intention of letting the nobles go this time.

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