CH460 · Rewrite
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Chapter 460: Snaketooth (Part 2)

The second announcement hit him like a fist to the sternum.

“In five days—the second week of the first month of spring—the City Hall will distribute rations at this square. Every citizen may collect two bowls of steaming oatmeal: one at noon, one at dinner. Citizens, let us thank His Highness for his generosity!”

The crowd came undone.

“Gayle was right—it was really in the notice!”

“Do my ears deceive me? Free oatmeal?”

“Are you coming? You’ve got plenty of oats at home.”

“It’s still two free meals. He said everyone. My lord didn’t say I couldn’t come.”

Someone shouted from the back: “My Lord! Is it actually free? How long will this continue?”

The attendant waited for the noise to crest and fall, then answered with practiced calm: “It’s free. Distribution will continue until the end of the Months of Demons. Tell your neighbors. His Highness keeps his promises.”

Around Snaketooth, several hundred people erupted. He stood motionless in the middle of it.

Free food. He turned the words over. What they meant, practically: Kanas’s hold on every tail, belly, and waist in the Western Zone rested partly on controlling who ate and who didn’t. Strip that away and the threat went hollow. Not just their crew—every Rat in Stronghold could eat without begging for it. The organized ones would scatter. The desperate ones would have nothing to be desperate about.

Kanas wouldn’t let that stand. He would send men to break up the distribution lines, or bribe a City Hall official to dump the grain in the Redwater River, or find some other way to remind everyone who actually controlled their survival.

But the attendant kept saying His Highness—not the Duke, not the Five Families. Prince Roland had given this order from Border Town. And princes from other cities giving orders in Longsong Stronghold was not, historically, something that held.

Unless this one is different.

He had told himself that before. The day Paper was taken from him was still raw enough to touch. He did not trust nobles. He had no particular reason to start.

And yet.

What if it’s true. What if it’s actually true.

He didn’t get long to sit with the doubt. The attendant cleared his throat and raised his voice again, and the third announcement arrived like a stone dropped into still water.

“Citizens! There are brighter days ahead!” The crowd quieted, sensing something. “In five days, when the oatmeal distribution begins, His Highness will also begin a campaign against crime in Longsong Stronghold—Black Street organizations, theft, and any behavior that threatens the safety and property of citizens. During this period, please avoid Black Street and stay away from pubs, casinos, and other unsafe areas to prevent harm.”

A breath held across the square.

“Order in Stronghold is maintained by all citizens together. The City Hall is currently recruiting public safety officers and police personnel—”

Snaketooth stopped listening. He turned and pushed through the crowd, moving fast.


He reached the bonfire. Sunflower looked up with her hands extended toward the flame. “Already done? At least get warm first.”

“No. We have to go.”

“What happened?” Joe could read it on his face.

“I’ll explain on the way.” He grabbed Joe’s sleeve. “We have to get back now. If Kanas hears this through someone else before we do, we’re finished.”


The Endless Lane’s gathering house was two stories, buried deep enough that you had to know where to look before you could find it. Kanas sat in the upper room, his single eye carrying enough menace for two. His temper was the kind that resolved itself through action—Snaketooth had personally watched him nail a man to a wall and whip him to death for a minor transgression. He controlled the food supply for several Rat organizations in the area, and everyone who depended on those supplies understood what that meant.

Snaketooth knelt carefully in front of him and delivered the news.

Kanas listened with a deepening frown. “The lord of the city is targeting us? That’s nonsense.”

“It’s not the lord of the city,” Snaketooth said carefully. “The announcement named the prince.”

“What do you know?” Kanas spat. “No noble, however important, can do anything in another man’s territory. This is Longsong Stronghold—not Border Town, not King’s City. The Honeysuckle and Elk lords are here. So what if he’s protector of the Western Region? Look at who sits in the castle. The king still rules Graycastle in name, but who listens to him?”

“You’re right,” said the girl sitting beside Kanas, her voice soft and certain. “And even if power changes hands, it has nothing to do with us. Nobles are nobles. Rats are Rats. Living in the same city doesn’t make them alike.”

“Rats are Rats.” Kanas smiled for the first time. His hand found her behind. “I love hearing that.” He leaned back. “Still—the second notice is strange. Usually when a noble wants to build reputation through food distribution, they announce the limits in advance. Why does this one sound like he’s trying to feed the entire city?”

No one answered. Snaketooth was fairly sure everyone in the room was thinking about two free bowls of oatmeal.

“Maybe he wants to get on Bloody hand’s good side,” the girl suggested lightly.

Kanas shrugged. “I’ll go ask the boss. He’s the only one who understands what these nobles are actually doing.”

Bloody hand—the king of the Western Zone—was rumored to have deep ties with the lower nobility. He had climbed far enough that calling him a Rat felt imprecise, though no one had given him a real title for it. All Rat kings had some version of those connections. It was how they survived.

Snaketooth breathed slightly easier. Right. This is how it’s always been. Nobles arrive, Rat kings negotiate, everyone adjusts and continues. It had been that way for hundreds of years, and the Months of Demons would pass the same as they always did.

He told himself that, and almost believed it.

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