CH455 · Rewrite
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Chapter 455: The Second Step of City Construction

Roland arranged a feast for the innocent nobles the following evening.

The long table ran the width of the hall, laid in white linen and set with wines, meats, and winter flowers arranged too precisely to be accidental. The nobles sat across from one another in two rows, with the Honeysuckle and Elk families on one side — both already loyal, both known quantities. A few glasses of red wine, and the tension that had been coiled in the room since the trials began to loosen. With the great families gone and the only allies present being his own, these minor nobles were not about to strike a discordant note tonight. They were, in fact, volunteering their sympathies without being asked.

Roland waited until the plates had been cleared before distributing the booklet.

“Your Highness — what is this?” The surprise in the voices was genuine. “The illustrations — they’re impossibly precise. No paint works like this.”

“How does it hold such color?”

They were Stronghold nobles, which meant they knew artwork. Roland clapped once. “A painter did them. She happens to be a witch, and her medium is her own ability.” He watched the room still. “The local Church has fallen. What exactly are you worried about? Witches are no different from us. I’ve confirmed that many times.”

“Uhhmm.” Petrov made a sound that was very nearly a cough. “Your Highness is quite right.”

“Absolutely correct, Your Highness — ha—” The others found their laughs half a second behind.

Roland registered the inadvertent implication and let it pass with the expression of a man who has learned not to explain his own jokes. He’d been a prince for over a year; his capacity to remain composed in precisely this kind of room had grown into something he no longer had to consciously maintain. “The point is what’s inside it. The illustrations are there to make it readable.”

Aurelia Medde looked up from the pages. “Is this a noble’s family history?”

“Aurelia,” Rene murmured.

“It’s fine.” Roland waved him off. “He was a noble in the Western Region. Some of you may remember him.”

“I know him,” said a knight down the table. “Tigui Pine. His territory used to run next to mine.”

“I met him once,” said another. “He was a baron then — his father held land from Joe Kohl. After Lord Joe left the region, his holding shrank considerably.”

“Viscount Tigui is living in Border Town now.” Roland smiled. “The booklet is the story of how he came to be there, and what his life has become. He’s practicing with a flintlock. After the Months of Demons, I expect he’ll take his daughter and his guards out to Misty Forest to hunt. When he sold his territory east of Stronghold and settled in Border Town, he was promoted a rank and his holdings increased several times over.”

He let that settle. Fear of the unknown always ran ahead of reason; the system he was proposing was entirely foreign to these men, and foreign things accumulated dread before they accumulated understanding. Tigui Pine was the proof of concept rendered in Soraya’s precise lines: a noble who had made the transition and prospered. A dry accounting of the same facts would have been ignored. A story with illustrations was something you handed a person and watched them read.

“I’ve been planning a city in the Western Region for some time,” Roland continued, setting his cup down. “Border Town, Longsong Stronghold, and the land between them will be consolidated into one administrative unit. Not physically — the towns are where they are. The unification is legal and governmental. One set of laws. One set of policies. This is why the feudal and legislative powers of the nobility were rescinded.”

“Our territories—” someone began.

“Still yours,” Roland said. “The rescission is limited to those two powers only. Feudalism has always meant: grant land, receive military service and revenue, expand influence that way. Under the new system, a professional army handles defense, and you gain far more as administrators than you did as lords. A larger cake for everyone, divided by rule rather than by force.”

Silence. He lifted his tea.

“You’ve never been to Border Town, so you don’t know the numbers.” He set the cup down. “In the second half of last year, the town’s revenue was thirty thousand gold royals. It could have been ten thousand more if the Months of Demons hadn’t arrived early.”

The silence changed quality.

“Thirty — thirty thousand?” someone said.

Roland had already looked up Stronghold’s annual figures through Petrov. Thirty thousand was roughly what the City Hall here managed in a full year. The minor nobles across the table — the free knights, the second sons of second sons — were unlikely to see one hundred gold royals in a strong year. The number landed the way he’d intended it to.

“As district administrators, you’ll be well compensated,” he said. “Now, the other element of consolidation — geographic proximity. The distance from Border Town to Longsong Stronghold is currently a day’s travel. Once Kingdom Main Street is complete, it’ll be under a day on foot, half a day by horse. With faster methods — I expect within three years you’ll have had breakfast in Stronghold and be at work in Border Town before midmorning.”

“What’s a bike?” Aurelia asked.

“A manually operated riding apparatus — two wheels, runs fast on a flat surface.” Roland considered. “Three years. Possibly less.”

Most of the nobles at the table had very little interest in transportation. The knight who’d known Tigui Pine leaned forward. “Your Highness — you’re saying you want us to manage Stronghold?”

“Manage it, yes. Lead it in the old sense, no.” Roland leaned back. “Longsong Stronghold will be a district under the City Hall. Because commuting to Border Town daily isn’t realistic at present, I’ll establish a secondary City Hall in the Longsong district. Multiple departments, handling local administration — you’d work in those departments.”

“Secondary departments,” the nobles repeated, feeling their way around the phrase.

“Managing a city isn’t simple work, and I won’t pretend otherwise.” Roland looked around the table. “The pay is generous. The work is not easy. Which is why I want you to come back with me to Border Town when order is restored here. See a functioning City Hall before you take on one of your own. You have a great deal to learn. So do your administrators. So does everyone.”

He reached for his wine. Outside the windows the snow had stopped falling for the first time in days, and the night beyond the glass was still and very cold.

“But that’s why we start now,” he said, “rather than later.”

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