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Chapter 606: Father and Daughter

Duke Calvin Kant walked into the Castle of Jadeforest to find his daughter already waiting.

“My dear—”

“Why are you this late?” Edith’s arms were folded, her notebook already open. “I wrote to you a month ago. We need to meet every requirement the First Army makes. Every one.”

The duke lowered his outstretched arms. “I notified Earl Haier in Deepvalley Town immediately and sent the butler to supervise the arrangements. Isn’t that sufficient?”

“It shows more sincerity if you come yourself.” She glanced up from the notebook. “Besides, this war against the church is not a routine matter. It can’t be treated as one.”

“Earl Haier’s domain—”

“Father.” Her voice cut clean. “The nobles are going to disappear. You’re still worrying about domains and feudatory. I thought the Hawes and Lista rebellions would have settled that in you.”

The duke cleared his throat. “I thought at minimum my daughter would give me a hug and tell me she missed me before starting in on business.”

“Did I?” The corner of her mouth moved. “So you weren’t in your study calling me a bastard — an ungrateful bastard who bites the hand that fed her — and stopping yourself from smashing something only because it was too expensive?”

Calvin’s mouth opened. Closed.

Who told her?

Before he had found any version of a response, Edith stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.

“Welcome to Deepvalley Town, father. Satisfied?”

His anger dissolved before he could decide what to do with it. He stroked her hair and felt something complicated he hadn’t been expecting — pride, certainly, but also a wistfulness that lived alongside it. His first wife’s daughter. Her mother had been nothing like this — quiet, gentle, a creature of accommodation. Calvin himself was not like this either. He had wondered sometimes, privately, in moments of irritation, whether Edith could truly be his. And then she would turn and he would see her mother’s cheekbones, her mother’s eyes.

She was his. She had simply become something he hadn’t planned for.

When she pulled away, her face had already moved back to business. “You smell terrible. There’s scented soap from Neverwinter — try it before dinner. Better than cassias.”

“There’s no hurry about that.” He looked around the hall. “Where is Earl Haier? He should have been here to greet me.”

“I sent him back to his suburban mansion.”

“What?” He stared at her.

“He was ignoring His Majesty’s orders and your own. If I hadn’t arrived when I did, he would have driven away the advance troops entirely.” She shrugged. “Some people can’t bring themselves to open their eyes to their situation. I don’t waste time on them. I sent him home.”

“But he just — handed over the castle?”

“Not voluntarily.” She smiled — not the practiced noble smile, the real one. “But I had the First Army with me. They conquered King’s City in a day. Twelve knights don’t impress them.”

Calvin thought, watching her: she’s changed. Not that she had ever been soft. But there was something in her face now, some brightness that hadn’t lived there in the years he’d been watching her navigate Graycastle’s courts. She had always been the Pearl of the Northern Region — it had never been warmth that made her shine. Now he wondered.

She was happy here. Or near it.

He felt a flicker of envy at that, mixed with the complicated gratitude of a man who has managed something he didn’t entirely understand.

Perhaps losing the forms of noble power had freed her from something the forms required.

They moved to the study. He drank two cups of black tea before he trusted himself to ask practical questions.

“So we wait here for His Majesty?”

Edith opened her notebook again. “We work. Food, horses, fabrics, medicinal herbs — all of it to Deepvalley Town. His Majesty also sent a new cipher: iron ingots and copper ingots, as much as the Northern Region can supply. The more, the better.”

He wants to drain the whole Northern Region, Calvin thought, but didn’t say it. Instead: “Do you truly believe Roland can defeat the church?”

She considered that for a moment — not dismissively, but carefully, as though it were a real question deserving a real answer. “He may not destroy Hermes entirely. But stopping the church from coming through Coldwind Ridge? That he can do.” She paused. “What he needs most right now is time.”

“Time for what?”

“You haven’t seen his factories.” She looked at him directly, the way she looked at a problem she had already solved in her head and was now waiting for everyone else to catch up. “A bullet doesn’t care if you’re a knight, a mercenary, a Judgement Warrior, or a true believer. It kills everyone the same way. And a factory produces thousands of bullets a day. A blacksmith with ten apprentices can make ten suits of armor and thirty swords in a year. One factory produces in a single day what would take that blacksmith’s entire year for swords — and then the same amount the next day, and the day after.”

Calvin opened his mouth. No words arranged themselves.

“After they’ve killed the knights with swords, the extra bullets go to citizens learning to hold a rifle. One month of training makes a soldier. Three months makes a soldier who won’t break under fire.” She set down her quill. “His Majesty will win as long as the First Army holds the defensive line. By the time the church sends a new army, Neverwinter will have trained another and re-equipped it. But the Judgement Army can’t learn to use a sword in three months. They’ve been doing it their whole lives and they’re still slower than bullets.”

The duke sat with that for a long moment. “Well,” he said finally. “I’ll believe you.” He refilled his tea. “But then — if you think so highly of him — why have you never replied to my letters? I wrote to you about marrying him.”

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