Chapter 605: Exchanging Promises
Silence moved between them, neither of them breaking it.
Roland watched her eyes and found what he had not expected: not the calm surface he usually read there, but something underneath it — anxiety, fear, and above all a resolve so complete it had become indistinguishable from stillness. This was what the steadiness had been all along: not the absence of feeling but the decision to continue regardless of it.
He could not change her mind. He had known that before she touched his face.
He let out a long breath and closed his eyes.
“Alright.” He opened them. “But you agree to one condition.”
“Say it.”
“You stay in the rear. Always. You don’t go near the frontline.”
“Agreed.”
“If something happens on the battlefield — if I—” He wet his lips. “If.”
“If something like that happens, I’ll leave the Northern Region immediately,” Anna said, without hesitation and without drama.
He blinked.
“Were you afraid I’d try to avenge you?” A ghost of a smile at the corner of her mouth. “Nightingale would. Ashes would. Not me.” She stroked his cheek. “I’d go back to the Western Region and bring every loyal person with me to Sleeping Island. We’d continue to resist Holy City. We’d keep building what you built.” She paused. “I know you’d rather I live. I know you would never be at peace with me following you into death.” Another pause — longer, more careful. “I promise you I’ll walk this path until your vision is real. Until witches and ordinary people live freely together.”
No answer was the right answer. None was needed.
She was twenty years old, or close to it, and she had grown past anything he had imagined the first time he saw her. That was, Roland thought, the best thing this world had given him.
She reached up and began to unbutton his shirt.
He said nothing. Nothing needed saying.
The curtains came down — blackfire, her doing, an intimacy he had grown to love — and the stars outside the window held their silence too.
Two days later, he gave his final speech before the departure.
The square was packed tight, citizens crowded shoulder to shoulder, their breath fogging in the morning air. A year and a half of growth had made City of Neverwinter almost unrecognizable to someone who had known Border Town. The people were different too — fed, paid, not frightened. That had done something to their faces.
He stepped onto the stage and the cheering hit him like a wave, sustained and full-throated, the kind of sound that did not require a signal to begin.
“Long live our king!”
“Long live Your Majesty Roland!”
It went on for seven minutes. He waited it out.
“All of you already know,” he said, when the square had quieted enough to hear him. He looked across the sea of faces. “Our kingdom is going to war — a war of defense — against the invader. The invader is the Holy City of Hermes, which has already swallowed the Kingdom of Everwinter and the Kingdom of Wolfheart. Of the four kingdoms, only Graycastle and Dawn remain. They are targeting us.”
He let that settle.
“Some of you used to believe in God. In the church. There is nothing shameful in that. Your faith was used — your goodwill was the pick that prized open your pockets. I am not going to blame the victim for being robbed.” He raised his fist. “The church will pay. They sell the God’s Stones of Retaliation for more than a hundred thousand gold royals a year. That money belongs to you.”
The murmur that went through the crowd had an edge to it — the specific tension of people who recognize something.
“Why? Because the nobles refused to pay the full cost, so the expense was transferred — through tax increases, property confiscation, daylight theft — onto every family who couldn’t refuse. And it wasn’t only the God’s Stones. The building of churches. The maintenance of resident priests. The baptism ceremonies. None of you are unfamiliar with those.”
He read the faces below — recognition, old resentment given a name. This was not a performance. He had seen these things happen and had thought about them for a long time.
“The church promised God’s blessing in exchange. What did you get? Before I came to this town, people starved and froze through the Months of Demons every year. The ones who survived — did God or the church save them?” He raised his voice. “They saved themselves. The church saved nothing. The church was busy draining you dry.”
The square erupted. He let it go for a moment, then pressed his hands down.
“I will not surrender. And I will not lose to bloodsuckers.” He drove the fist upward. “The First Army will destroy them. Nobody will ever again dare to rob my subjects. No more church taxes. No more atonement fees. No more gold royals poured into buildings nobody asked to have built. These things will not exist in the new Kingdom of Graycastle.”
“Everything you have, you made with your own hands. Your labor built this city. Not prayers, not blessings — labor. You are the most glorious people in the kingdom. Without you, there is no City of Neverwinter.”
He spread his hands and looked at them — all of them, every face — for a long moment before continuing.
“The First Army has gone north to fight. If we are defeated, everything you have built disappears and the impoverished past returns. Tell me: are you willing to go back to that?”
The answer came from everywhere at once, overlapping and fierce.
“No! We’ll fight the church to the end!”
“Kill all of them!”
“I’ll protect Your Majesty with my life!”
“I don’t need you to fight,” Roland said, over the noise, and the crowd quieted to hear him. “Fighting is the First Army’s responsibility. And you won’t be taxed to pay for this war — that is what the enemy does to its people. What I need from you is simple: live your lives. Continue working. Continue building. That is the greatest gift you can give the soldiers on the frontline.” He placed his right hand on his chest and saluted. “We will win. Long live the Kingdom of Graycastle.”
“For victory!”
“Long live the kingdom!”
The chants echoed through the square long after he had left the stage.
That afternoon, the final batch of soldiers boarded the paddle steamers. The flagship Roland sounded its horn — a long, low note that carried over the water and off the stone.
The destination was Deepvalley Town.
Chapter 605: Exchanging Promises
Translator: TransN Editor: TransN
What followed was a long period of silence.
Anna’s eyes were not as tranquil as Roland had thought. As the couple gazed silently at each other, he saw the surging undercurrent beneath the cerulean surfaces. It was comprised of anxiety, fear, but above all, resolve. This was the reason why her expression was always looked so steely.
As time slid away quietly, the feeling became more and more intense.
Roland finally realized that he was not going to change her mind.
He closed his eyes and exhaled a long sigh.
“Alright, but you must agree to one request.”
“Say it.”
“You must never go on the frontline. You’ll always remain in the rear.”
“Promised.”
“If something happens on the battlefield…” Roland wet his lips. “I’m saying, in case, I…”
“If something like that really happens, I’ll leave the Northern Region immediately,” Anna said without reserve.
Roland seemed stunned for a moment.
“Are you worried that I’ll try to avenge you and end up giving away my life needlessly?” She stroked his cheeks gently. “Only Nightingale and Ashes would do something like that. As for myself, I’ll return quickly to the Western Region, bring all of your loyalists to Sleeping Island and settle down there, while continuing to resist Holy City. Your Majesty, although I’d like to follow you into death, I know that you’ll never be agreeable to that.” As she talked about this, she paused for a moment before continuing, “I promise you that I’ll walk your path for you until your ideal world becomes reality, where witches and normal people can live together freely.”
Roland did not respond—there was no need to. Anna’s growth had exceeded his expectations. This was already the best reward he attained for coming to this world.
She reached out her hands to unbutton Roland’s shirt.
Nothing else needed to be said.
The couple kissed as they flipped onto the bed.
Blackfire pulled down the curtains, while clothes and blankets were tossed to one side. In this moment, Roland’s and Anna’s fates were firmly connected, with the stars in the sky serving witness.
…
Two days later, Roland delivered his final speech before setting off in the square.
The people who came after hearing the news crowded the square until it was almost watertight. After a year and a half of development, Border Town of old no longer existed and was replaced by the prosperous and bustling City of Neverwinter. This had brought about massive changes to the lives of the people. This also meant that Roland’s reputation and popularity scaled to unprecedented heights.
“Good morning, my subjects.” As he went on stage, cheers rained down on him overwhelmingly.
“Long live our king!”
“Long live Your Majesty Roland!”
The people needed neither encouragement nor echoes to boost their volume. They consciously and enthusiastically cheered with respect for their king and waved their hands in the air.
The furore only gradually subsided after a full seven minutes.
“All of you should already know.” Roland looked around at the countless pairs of revering eyes below the stage, and spoke in a deep voice, “Our kingdom is about to fight a war of self-defense against an invader. The enemy is none other than the Holy City of Hermes, which has already annexed Kingdom of Everwinter and Kingdom of Wolfheart! Today, of the four kingdoms, only Kingdom of Graycastle and Kingdom of Dawn remain. Right now, they’re targeting us!”
“I know that some of you used to believe in God and the church. There’s nothing shameful about that! Your kindnesses were made use of and your hopes were cheated. Do you think I’ll blame the victims instead of the liars and robbers? Of course not!” He raised his fist. “The church shall have to pay! Just by selling the God’s Stones of Retaliation, they’re able to make more than 100,000 gold royals per year—this money should belong to all of you!”
“Why? The reason is simple. The nobles were unwilling to fork out an extra sum of money to buy the God’s Stones, and therefore this portion of expenses was transferred onto you through tax increases, property confiscation, and daylight robbery! And it’s not only the God’s Stones, but also the building of churches, the maintenance of resident priests and the holding of baptism ceremonies. I believe that none of you are unfamiliar with these things!”
The things that the masses most easily understood and hated were exploitation and oppression. The church’s methods were not as flagrant as the nobles’, but in the eyes of the highly-experienced Roland, it was not difficult at all to lay bare this thin layer of fig leaf while at the same time smearing the name of the church.
“The church promised that this sum of money would be exchanged for God’s blessings, but what happened in the end? Before I came to this town, the people had little to eat and wear, and as such, famine and severe cold came during the Months of Demons every year and took away the lives of many. As for those who survived… Is it really because of the church’s or God’s aid? No, they did nothing!” Roland raised his voice a notch. “The only thing they’re interested in is sucking your blood dry!”
The natives saw these things happening with their own eyes, while most of the refugees from other cities had similar experiences. The square erupted into an angry uproar as everyone attributed all of their past sufferings to the church.
“So, I’ll never surrender, and more importantly, I won’t lose to these bloodsuckers!” Roland waved his fist in the air and declared loudly. “The First Army will pulverize them so that nobody will dare to rob my subjects ever again. You won’t ever have to worry about paying money to build churches or to ‘atone for your sins’! These bullsh*t taxes won’t exist in the new Kingdom of Graycastle!”
“Facts have proven that without the presence of the church, City of Neverwinter will become an even better place, and so will the other cities!”
“Everything that you have has been created by your own hands and your spirit, not those illusory things. That’s why I have repeatedly emphasized the glory of labor! Only labor can create wealth, and you people are the most glorious of laborers. You should be proud of this. Without you, there won’t be today’s prosperous City of Neverwinter!”
He pressed his hands down as a gesture for the subjects to pause their cheers. “The First Army has set off for the Northern Region, and they’ll be fighting against the church. If we’re defeated, we’ll lose everything that we own and return back to the impoverished times of old… Tell me, are you willing to return to the past?”
The answers he received were self-evident.
“No, Your Majesty, we’ll fight the church until the end!”
“Kill all of them!”
“Chase them out of our kingdom!”
“I’ll protect Your Majesty with my life!”
There were all kinds of responses, but their expressions were impressively identical—they were willing and ready to defend everything that they had that was hard-earned.
“Well said. I don’t need you to engage the enemy in battle. That’s the responsibility of the First Army. Neither do you have to pay extra taxes to support the war—that’s what the enemy does to its people. All you have to do is to continue living your lives, and continue to participate in the construction and production of this city. This would be the greatest aid your kin fighting on the frontline can receive from you.” Roland placed his right hand on his chest and saluted. “We must attain victory! Long live the Kingdom of Graycastle!”
“For victory!”
“Long live this kingdom!”
The people repeatedly chanted these two phrases, even long after Roland had made his departure.
In the afternoon the same day, the last batch of soldiers boarded the paddle steamers. “The Roland”, serving as the flagship, tooted to signal the beginning of the journey.
The destination was Deepvalley Town!