CH478 · Rewrite
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Chapter 478: Witnessing the Establishment of the New City

After, Anna rested her head in the hollow of Roland’s shoulder, curled against him.

“Your Highness,” she murmured, “it’s so good… to have met you.” Her breathing was still returning from the heights of the night.

“Call me Roland.” He stroked her hair. “There’s no one else here, and I’ve never once heard you say my name.”

“Ro… land.”

“Good.” He reached up and tickled her ear until she laughed, and then said quietly, “Actually—it’s me who should have said that. Before I came here, I never imagined I would find someone like you.”

“Not even in the palace?”

“No.” He shook his head slightly. “Sometimes I think I’m still dreaming.”

Anna was quiet for a moment. Then she pressed closer.

“I’m right here,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The words caught something in him. She’d said that before. He could not place the exact moment, but the shape of it was familiar — some earlier version of the same declaration, in a harder time.

Living like a normal person, but I do not care about that. I just want to stay at Your Highness’ side, nothing more.

She was the small, frightened girl rolled up in the corner of a prison cell. The diligent girl who practiced her ability in maid’s clothes. The daring young woman who conjured a wall of fire and sealed the city gate. The diffident girl who had raised her head and kissed him; the one who had asked him to stay with her on the Day of Awakening.

These scenes came to him one after another, like cards laid down on a table.

Without either of them meaning to, they had built so many memories together.

“You’re right,” he said. He ran his hand down the length of her hair and along her back. “You are right here.”

Feelings are a strange thing, he thought. Nothing but meaningless, foolish words, and yet they undo me every time.

A long silence. He assumed she had fallen asleep.

“I’m a witch,” she said.

“I know.”

“Sister Wendy told me that witches can’t have children.” Her voice was barely above the level of breath. “That will be a problem for you.”

“I’m not afraid,” Roland said, firmly. “Compared to the third Battle of Divine Will, it’s nothing.” He had spent some time, once, thinking through the question of succession. He had stopped after Agatha’s report. The battle that would decide humanity’s fate was approaching. If they lost, every kingdom fell; every dynasty ended. Succession, measured against that, was a problem so small it barely deserved the word. He paused. “Actually—I was a bit worried, earlier.”

“About what?”

“I was worried you’d use that as a reason to refuse me.”

Anna looked up at him, genuinely puzzled. “Why would I? I want to be with you. I’m a witch either way.”

Roland laughed—helplessly, completely. Of course. Since the beginning, this had been her way: direct, unencumbered, saying the thing precisely as she meant it. No drama of noble self-sacrifice, no Korean drama case of I mean well but cannot tell you. He had been overthinking again.

As they lay talking, he felt his body come back to life. Anna sensed it too. She kissed his neck and shifted above him—

The night was still very young.

Roland woke much later than usual. When he opened his eyes, the sun was already directly overhead, light flooding the castle.

He reached to the side and found nothing.

Could it be that last night was—

He bent down and exhaled with relief. Strands of flaxen hair lay across the pillow, and on his collar, the faint trace of her fragrance.

“What are you doing?”

Her voice came from above him. Roland looked up and felt awkward in the sudden way of a man caught doing something he cannot explain: he was lying with his face buried in the pillow, sniffing. “Ah—I was counting the strands of hair you left. When did you get up?”

“I went to bring you breakfast.” Anna placed a plate on the bedside table. Her movements were a little different from usual—careful, as though something had shifted in how she inhabited her own body. “You were sleeping soundly when I woke. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“I’m sorry,” Roland said. “I should have helped.” After so many hours of strenuous activity, he was genuinely concerned she was uncomfortable, whatever her recovery capabilities.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Anna laughed softly. “You’re a prince.”

He shook his head and said nothing. Instead, he pulled her into his arms. After a moment, she patted him on the back. “Enough. You’re awake, eat your breakfast—I have work to do.”

“Shouldn’t you rest a few more days?”

“I can’t.” Her voice was earnest. “We face the demons soon. Miss Soraya and Miss Agatha are working hard, and I won’t fall behind.” She smiled, and it was the kind of smile that could light a room. “You too—Roland.”

He kissed her goodbye at the door and walked to his office feeling lighter than he could account for. When he pushed it open, Tilly was already inside, seated at the table.

“Good morning,” he said.

“It’s already noon.” She smiled. “And you’re all smiles—good dream?”

“Do I— is it that obvious?”

“Entirely.” The smile faded. “I came to say goodbye.”

Roland stopped. “Goodbye? Are you returning to Sleeping Island?”

“I’ve stayed too long.” Tilly stood and moved to the French window. “I’ve kept in touch by letter, but I have to go back eventually. The Months of Demons are over—my purpose here is done.” She looked out at the river. “Don’t worry. Even from across the sea, I’ll give you my full support against the church and the demons.”

“Can’t you settle here instead?” Roland tried. “There’s vast empty land along the south bank of the Redwater River. It could hold all your witches.”

“We’ve had this conversation.” She sighed. “It’s not a question of space.”

She’s made up her mind. He understood why—it was the right choice, the responsible one, the sign of a leader who had not confused her own comfort with her people’s welfare. That did not make him any happier about it. “At least stay another week. I’ll prepare things you can take back—things that will be useful.”

“What things?”

“Books. Courseware. Exercises—ready to copy and distribute, so you won’t have to start from nothing. A few revolvers for self-defense against anyone carrying a God’s Stone of Retaliation. And two steam engines—they can pump water for irrigation and salt extraction.”

Tilly turned from the window. ”…Thank you.”

“And the Groundbreaking Day,” Roland said, putting weight on each word. “I want you there. I want you to witness with me the establishment of the City of Neverwinter.”

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