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Chapter 523: The Blood Pearl

That evening, Calvin Kant summoned the nobles of the Northern Region to the castle.

The banquet room’s fireplace burned high, its light restless on the walls, throwing the guests’ shadows into a slow, wavering dance. Four long tables ran the length of the hall, laden with steaming meat and wine — a feast sumptuous enough that the occasion could still be mistaken, at first glance, for hospitality. But the air in the room had the quality of a room where everyone is watching the door.

The mood did not improve when the Duke announced that King’s City had fallen.

“I’ve dispatched riders to intercept the platoon that set out four days ago,” Calvin said from the head table, his voice low and deliberate. “They are returning safely. But the question before this room tonight is a different one — what should the Northern Region do?”

The nobles looked at one another. The news of Timothy’s defeat in a single day had arrived like a stone dropped into a well, and no one seemed eager to speak first. Calvin could read the room easily enough: fear, regret, the particular shame of men who had backed the losing side and were only beginning to understand what that might cost them.

Edith was right. Not one of these men has the spine to resist Roland Wimbledon. Division was never a real option. There is only one road forward.

The trouble was that nobles who had only recently sworn loyalty to Timothy could not openly reverse themselves without embarrassment. The room needed permission to turn.

“Why not send a spy to learn Prince Roland’s intentions?” someone offered after a long silence.

“If he leaves the Northern Region alone, we might simply acknowledge him as the new king,” another voice added, gathering quick agreement. “These are Wimbledon family matters. What does it change for us, which brother sits the throne?”

No difference?” Earl Lista’s laugh had no warmth in it.

The room went quiet. Calvin felt the keynote settle over the gathering like a cold front.

Lista stood at his ease, surveying the room. The three noble families were roughly equal in power, with the Kants edged out slightly. Calvin had become Duke only because he had heeded Edith’s counsel and been the first to ingratiate himself with Timothy — a maneuver Timothy had found useful for its own reasons, since a Duke beholden to him balanced the other two families nicely. Everyone in the room understood this, even if no one said it.

“Have you forgotten Duke Ise?” Lista’s voice carried easily. “Arrested for treason. Executed. He never moved against Timothy at all. If we simply throw ourselves at the new king’s feet, we are lambs waiting for the noose. In Prince Roland’s eyes, we are already implicated — every one of us. We cannot pretend otherwise.”

“What else can we do?” one of Calvin’s feudatories said, with less vigor than the words required. “If King’s City couldn’t last a day, we’d be throwing eggs at a stone wall—”

He stopped mid-sentence under the force of Lista’s stare.

“Even if all we have are eggs, I’ll throw them.” Ed Howes pushed back his chair. “The rebel king murdered my elder brother. He will answer for that.”

“And the Northern Region is not the Western Plain,” Earl Howes followed swiftly. “It’s all hills and mountains, difficult roads. Roland’s army may sweep across open ground, but it’ll be a different war in terrain like ours. If worst comes to worst, my family retreats to Coldwind Ridge. I don’t believe his guns can reach us there.”

Which puts your entire back up against the Church, Calvin thought, and those people have no good intentions toward the Northern Region either. He said nothing. The eldest son of the Howes family had died fighting the Lord of the Western Region — that was the story, anyway. Men died in wars. Grief didn’t obligate anyone to follow them into the grave.

The hall grew loud. As Lista and Howes declared their positions, the voices calling for patience and preparedness steadily overwhelmed the voices that had been edging toward accommodation. Calvin sat silent and felt the room slipping.

Where is Edith? Surely she hasn’t run into trouble.

“What does the Honorable Duke think?” Lista’s gaze found him across the table. His silence had become conspicuous.

Calvin steadied himself. “I summoned you all tonight to hear everyone’s counsel. A matter of this magnitude requires care—”

“Enough.” Howes cut him off. “I’ve had the feeling all evening that you’ve already decided to submit to Prince Roland. Why else would all the voices urging retreat happen to come from your feudatories? If we hand over everything now, we are cattle waiting for slaughter.”

Calvin’s hand tightened around his wine glass. He did not throw it.

“Since there is nothing more to discuss.” Lista stood and walked toward the exit. He spoke over his shoulder with casual malice. “If you want the new king to spare your life, you could always offer him Edith, bound hand and foot. I’ve heard he has a great appreciation for beau—”

The laughter died as Lista did not finish his sentence.

A sword point had emerged from Lista’s back, the blade catching firelight. The stain spreading around it looked nearly black.

“Are you speaking of me, Sir Snow Fox?” The voice was calm. Almost amused. “I couldn’t pretend not to hear that.”

Lista’s body folded onto the floor. The figure behind him stepped forward — tall, lean, armor-plated and bloodstained, sword held at her side without drama or display. She walked over the Earl while he was still moving and entered the hall.

Edith Kant.

Calvin exhaled.

Her armor bore the evidence of hard fighting — she had been busy elsewhere tonight while the nobles talked. But nothing in her bearing suggested fatigue. She had the face of someone who had just resolved an argument in a way that could not be appealed.

Behind her, armed men entered the hall and took positions along the walls. The exits closed. By then, the assembled nobles needed no further explanation.

“The guards—” Howes’ voice cracked. “What have you done to the guards outside—”

“Did you think I could manage this if the guards were still at their posts?” Calvin smashed his cup against the floor and stood. The relief in him was enormous and very private. “You appear to have forgotten who commands this castle.”

He had planned this moment across many such banquets, watching the nobles arrive with their small retinues — never more than a hundred servants each, most of them stationed outside the walls. They had not imagined the host would turn. And why would they? It had been too long since someone at this table had been genuinely dangerous.

That someone was his daughter.

As the hall doors closed, the fireplace gave one long, guttering flicker.

The feudatories of Lista and Howes drew their swords. The lower nobles — the lesser men, the ones who had simply attended and eaten and waited to see how things resolved — looked at the floor and did not move.

“You’ve lost your mind,” Howes snapped.

Calvin had no patience for it. “Put down your weapons and surrender. You will be spared. Any resistance will be met with force.”

Then the two factions were moving, and the hall had no more use for words.

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