CH470 · Rewrite
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Chapter 470: The New Warship

Nightingale’s words were still with him as Roland walked the path toward the North Slope Mountain.

He had been, he decided, thinking about this in entirely the wrong frame. He was not the person he had been — a man who spoke to blueprints and treated his own desires as theoretical problems to be reasoned away. He was a lord. He might one day be a king. His circumstances had changed completely, and continuing to hold himself to rules that belonged to a version of himself that no longer existed would only go on hurting people he did not wish to hurt.

Follow your heart. The instruction was embarrassingly simple once he stopped debating it.

The weight he had been carrying — he felt it lift as he pushed open the backyard door. Steel and cold air and clean white snow.

“His Highness!” Hummingbird and Lucia ran toward him, breath clouding.

“You’re here.” Anna smiled from beside the pond. He saw the faint mark on her neck and did not let himself look away from it quickly. He had already made his decision. He could wait a little more.

“Did you finish the model?”

“Of course.” She gestured.

In the center of a snow-surrounded pond floated a steel boat roughly a meter long and twenty centimeters across — much leaner than the concrete ships, which had always resembled something hauled rather than built. The bow came to a distinct point. The stern was flat. The entire hull was covered with overlapping supporting bars, as though it had been assembled from thousands of interlocking squares, which in fact it had been. The effect was more delicate than anything cast in a mold could produce. It looked like a thing that had been designed.

“This is exactly what I wanted,” Roland said.

Originally he had planned to use the concrete boats as shallow-water gunboats, but the dead weight was a problem he couldn’t engineer around. Even running light, the fleet’s average speed on the return from Longsong had barely reached eight kilometers per hour. With a 152mm Stronghold Cannon on board, gunpowder, and weapons stores, that dropped to five — less than three knots. Concrete had been the right choice when steel was scarce. Steel was no longer scarce.

He had chosen the simplest assembly technique: solder prefabricated steel plates to beams, form hollow box units, join the units at the dock. No traditional keel. Thin hull sides — the enemy had no cannon, so he had no reason to armor the thing. The result was low dead weight and a manageable cost.

For propulsion: propellers driven by steam through rotating gears, with room in the blueprint for a later triple-expansion engine when he had time to develop one.

When they returned to the yard, Anna began on the first plate. The Blackfire moved like a precision instrument — a single pass, and a thick steel block became seven plates, each exactly five millimeters. Hummingbird reduced the weight of the beams. Anna’s Blackfire narrowed to something almost threadlike and sewed plate to beam from the inside, liquid steel filling every gap before solidifying. Where the beam met the plates, the bottom sank a millimeter into the junction. No seam visible. No gap possible.

Crosses of beams joined four plates each. More crosses formed hollow boxes. The boxes, lightened by Hummingbird, were ferried to the Redwater River for assembly at the dock.

Roland watched her flaxen hair swing with the motion of her work, bright against the snow. He was not thinking about warships.


That afternoon, Summer came to his office.

She had passed Nightingale’s verification. Wendy had already written up the ability assessment in full, so Roland set the contract in front of the girl without preamble.

She held the pen for a long moment, face going pink. “I… can’t write.”

“A fingerprint works.” He slid the inkpad over.

She pressed her thumb carefully onto the parchment as though something might go wrong if she pressed too hard. “Is that all?”

“That’s all.” He rolled the contract. “Wendy has told me everything about your situation, so for now you don’t need to live here. Come every day for practice and classes. Has she explained magic power to you?”

Summer relaxed in degrees as she understood she was not being asked to move in. “Yes, Your Highness. Lady Wendy said if I don’t release the accumulating power each day, I’ll be in danger on my Day of Awakening.”

“Correct. Practice consistently. If anything is unclear, ask anyone in the Witch Union.” He paused. “You wanted to ask me something else.”

She looked at the floor. “Is my ability… completely useless? Lady Wendy said only Your Highness would know.”

“Not useless. The opposite.” He folded his hands. “You have a detective’s ability. You’ll be very useful in fighting crimes.”

“Detective?” The word was new to her.

“You’ll understand soon enough.” He turned toward the wall. “Nightingale.”

The fog parted and Nightingale stepped through. Summer’s eyes went wide.

“From now on,” Roland said, “she’s your supervisor.”

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