Rewrite That Witch
CH538 · Rewrite
☕ Support

Chapter 538: The Wheel of Time

The First Army marched north on a grey morning, resupplied and reequipped.

This was the second phase of the spring offensive: take Willow Town, then Fallen Dragon Ridge. Willow Town would close the last gap in the Western Region’s borders; Fallen Dragon Ridge would open the route south. Both were fortified, and Roland had entrusted the command to Iron Axe. He stayed behind. The First Army had become something qualitatively different from what it had been at Longsong—soldiers who could hold a line and execute a fire sequence without being watched. They didn’t need him in the field. They needed him here, building what the army would return to.

Reconstruction was the harder work in any case.

Willow Town was small enough that a full administrative apparatus wasn’t required—department offices attached to the existing structure, staffed with personnel the Longsong Area had trained. Fallen Dragon Ridge was different: Countess Spear, who had sworn allegiance after Timothy’s fall, would govern it, with a First Army garrison remaining through the transition—partly to support her against whatever resistance lingered among the nobility, partly because Fallen Dragon was a crossroads Roland needed to hold permanently. Whether the next move was southward into the broader Southern Territory or toward Iron Sand City, everything ran through there.

“This will leave us thin,” Iron Axe said, frowning at the distribution. “Five hundred at King’s City, a thousand to Willow Town and Fallen Dragon—I’m left with fewer than fifteen hundred mobile troops, most of them artillery. Neverwinter loses its offensive capability for a window.”

“How are the recruits from the Months of Demons?”

“Two or three months from ready. At minimum.”

Roland smiled at that. He remembered the first militia—assembled in six weeks, marched in six more. Now three months was considered insufficient preparation. He wasn’t certain whether to feel proud or wistful. What he was certain of was that the standard had risen because the soldiers themselves had risen—men who understood what they were doing and why, not simply men who’d been pointed at the enemy and told to shoot.

“The garrisons rotate out when the recruits are ready. Putting them up against noble guards is decent field experience—not a bad way to finish their training.” He leaned back. “And when the refugee delegations return, the population grows. We expand from there.”

Willow Town was a waypoint. Fallen Dragon was a threshold. He wanted the whole of the Southernmost Ridge by the end of the year—and steady access to black water beyond that, which could take Neverwinter’s industries somewhere new.

Iron Axe left. Nightingale stepped through the Mist.

“Iffy wants to see you.”

She entered the office differently than she had left the grassland.

The certainty that had made her movements sharp had changed shape—not gone, but unsettled, rearranged into something she didn’t yet know how to carry. Her chestnut hair was loose and slightly disordered. She stopped inside the door, bowed, and then stood for a long moment without speaking.

She looked, Roland thought, approximately her actual age.

“Your Majesty.” She found his eyes. “The weapon Maggie used—what is it?”

He nodded at Nightingale. She placed the revolver on the desk.

“A gun.” Roland cleared the cylinder, spilling the modified rounds across the surface. “It fires projectiles accelerated by combustion. The ones Maggie used had modified heads—layered soft material. The kinetic force is preserved but distributed across the surface of impact rather than penetrating. The standard round would have killed you.”

Iffy looked at the bullet he held between thumb and forefinger. It was not large.

“It doesn’t look like much,” he said. “But making it requires coordinated labor from hundreds of ordinary townspeople and three witches working in continuous sequence. Pull any element out of that chain and production stops. Remove the witches you’ve called useless and the chain breaks.” He set the bullet down. “Still think the designation is accurate?”

Her lips moved. She said nothing.

“Perhaps they’re less capable in direct confrontation. That tells you nothing about their value. A commoner can’t overpower a bear with his bare hands—but people rule this world, not bears. The reason is that people can multiply their power through what they build together. That is what assistant witches enable. Through their abilities, they give ordinary people forces those people couldn’t otherwise have—like guards who fight with swords and shields and know the weapon they carry will hold. In that sense, assistant witches accomplish more than combat witches do, because their effect multiplies outward across everyone they’ve equipped.”

“The weapons could still do more in the hands of a combat witch,” Iffy said quietly.

“The difference isn’t large enough to change an outcome.” Roland shook his head. “Ask yourself: if you faced ten ordinary soldiers armed the way Maggie armed herself—ten, not a hundred—what are your odds? In this city, we produce seven or eight guns every day. How many combat witches exist? And the weapons alone aren’t enough. We need to maintain them, resupply them, move them across territory. All of that requires a production chain and a logistics apparatus, and in all of it, assistant witches are irreplaceable.” He reassembled the revolver and returned it to Nightingale. “I know this isn’t easy to understand immediately. But the reason people outlast every other creature on this earth is that people create powers the world has never seen before. Magic is the finest tool for that purpose. You have been wasting it.”

He moved toward the door.

“The First Army reserve is running a live-fire exercise this afternoon. I suggest you watch it. Use your own eyes.” He paused at the threshold. “The time has changed, Iffy. What was true in the mountains of Wolfheart is not true here.”

Discussion

Suggest a change