CH629 · Rewrite
☕ Support

Chapter 629: After the Decisive Battle

The clamor outside the tent was what finally roused Nail.

He turned his head from the ground, where he had been lying in a daze, and saw the heavy curtain lift at one corner. Iron Axe bent through the gap.

Nail pushed himself upright and saluted. “Your—Your Excellency.”

“At ease.” Iron Axe crossed to his bedside and sat down, crossing one leg over the other with the deliberate ease of a man who has learned to show calm when he doesn’t feel it. “How’s the injury?”

Nail touched his swollen cheek. “Two teeth. That’s all.” He paused. “I’m not badly hurt.”

“Good.” Iron Axe nodded slowly. “Nana Pine has been occupied with worse cases since the battle. Since yours is minor, you’ll recover on your own. When the rescue work is finished, go see Sir Pine about the teeth—the First Army will cover it.”

“I understand. There’s no reason to bother her for something this small.” Nail hesitated. “What about Hound? Is he—”

He remembered it clearly: the moment the other soldier had turned, grabbed a teammate’s spear, and brought the butt down across Nail’s face. He remembered seeing a gun raised toward Hound immediately after.

“He’s fine,” Iron Axe said. “The guards pulled him down the second he raised his weapon. It was the pure witch’s ability—he had no control over what he did. No punishment. He’s back with his unit.”

“Really.” Nail exhaled. “I thought I was going to die in that moment. What happened to the rest of the machine gun teams?”

The defensive arrangement had been thorough: two machine gun teams per bunker, a five-man guard platoon at each position. Every team member not involved in direct operation had worn a God’s Stone of Retaliation. It had seemed comprehensive.

“These things happen,” Iron Axe said, hands spreading slightly. “But it didn’t cause serious harm—otherwise we wouldn’t be here having this conversation.”

“Was the church driven back?” Nail caught himself. “Sorry. That’s a stupid question. I want to know what happened after I lost consciousness.”

“The enemy made their final charge and failed to cross the fourth trench.” Iron Axe’s voice stayed level, reporting rather than exulting. “Both the God’s Punishment Army and the Judgement Army were routed. They left more than two thousand dead in front of our position and fled. We won.”

What struck Nail was the tone. No triumph in it. Just the words.

Iron Axe offered no explanation, and Nail did not press. The silence stretched.

Finally, Iron Axe clapped him on the shoulder and stood. “Rest. I have other wounded to visit.”

“Your Excellency.” Nail found his voice before the other man reached the curtain. “I want to leave the First Army.”

Iron Axe turned. “Why?”

Nail stared at the ground. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the girl in the red robe—the one who had been crawling, who had stopped before he could make himself fire. “I don’t think I can be a machine gunner anymore. When the target was in front of me, I hesitated. I couldn’t do it fast enough.”

“Your target was an underage pure witch,” Iron Axe said. “Your team put it in their postwar report. I won’t tell you your instinct was correct—but I won’t tell you it was wrong either.” He was quiet for a moment. “One question: are you going to betray His Majesty?”

“No. Never. My life belongs to His Majesty.”

“Then I’m not approving the request.” Iron Axe’s voice took on a different weight—the kind that doesn’t invite argument. “This is the most critical moment the First Army has faced, and it will remain so for some time. I need every soldier at his post, guarding His Majesty Roland Wimbledon at whatever cost. If you can’t work a machine gun, you’ll be an observer or a guard. But you are not leaving. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Your Excellency.” Nail saluted.

Iron Axe left without another word.

Nail sat in the quiet of the tent and turned the commander’s words over in his mind. The most critical moment. Guard His Majesty at whatever cost. But they had won. The church had been defeated. The enemy was fleeing.

Unless His Majesty—

The thought arrived fully formed and hit him like cold water.

Did something happen to him during the battle?


“How does it stand?” Calvin Kant stopped in the doorway of his daughter’s bedroom and watched her sort through a pile of dresses.

“The First Army and the witches have sealed the castle,” Edith said, not looking up. “Even I can’t get in.” She curled her lip slightly. “But if he had recovered, word would have leaked by now. So I assume he’s still the same as before.”

“And your plans? Are you prepared for a long journey?” The Duke picked up a black gown from the pile on the bed and held it at arm’s length. “This seems somewhat revealing.”

“I wasn’t going to pack that one. You gave it to me—you intended me to wear it to one of Timothy’s dinner parties.”

“Ah. Yes.” He set it down with quiet embarrassment. “Do you think His Majesty’s forces will withdraw to Neverwinter?”

“Probably.” Edith pressed a stack of coats into the open suitcase. “The church has been completely defeated, but the First Army burned through most of its supplies in the battle. The Adviser Department will need roughly a month to rebuild operational capacity. If His Majesty is conscious, there’s no reason not to remain in the Northern Region for a while. If he isn’t—” she didn’t soften it— “no one can guarantee the army’s morale. Under those conditions, Iron Axe would never risk pressing toward Holy City. Where they go next isn’t hard to deduce.”

“You’re certain you want to follow them?” Her father’s voice had a father’s concern in it. “If something terrible has happened to His Majesty—if the kingdom falls into civil strife—the Northern Region would be safer for you.”

“Which is exactly why I’m going to Neverwinter.” Edith straightened and pulled her long hair back over her shoulder. “What has been built there is the kingdom’s new center of gravity—whether Roland is conscious or not. His coma is both a danger and an opening for the Kant family.”

Calvin drew a slow breath. “You mean to—”

“Your thinking is too blunt.” Edith closed the suitcase. “The only person who could replace Roland is his sister Tilly Wimbledon. She is the only one who can hold the bond between ordinary people and witches. But Tilly is a witch herself—when it comes to managing nobles, she will need support from someone the nobility trusts.” She paused. “That person is me. This is the shortest path to the pinnacle of power this kingdom offers. I don’t intend to miss it.”

Discussion

Suggest a change