Chapter 634: Nothing to Fear
An hour later, Roland understood what had happened during his fifty-two days unconscious.
The church had taken devastating losses. Nearly every soldier of the God’s Punishment Army was dead; half the Judgement Army had fallen on the field. Of the two thousand-odd who fled, most had taken the Pill of Madness and would corrode from accumulated magic power before the season turned. The Pope had vanished. Most of the senior commanders were gone. After this battle, Holy City of Hermes could not threaten Graycastle’s borders again—and when the Months of Demons arrived, it would struggle simply to survive.
The First Army had not emerged unscathed.
Most of the casualties could be traced to the witch Blackveil. Every soldier who met her eyes without a God’s Stone of Retaliation had been afflicted to some degree. Of the more than seven hundred losses, four in five were hers. Roland’s fall had done the rest—watching their king collapse had hollowed out morale in an instant. Iron Axe had been left with no option but to order a withdrawal.
City Hall had held. Barov and the administration had covered the gap between military chaos and civil collapse, and the story that reached the public was that His Majesty had been wounded in battle and required bed rest. Iron Axe and Barov together had handled the funerals for the fallen.
When the account reached its end, Roland found himself thinking about the captured pure witches.
“You said they have no great loyalty to the church?” He turned to Agatha. “And this Isabella—she’d be willing to fight the demons?”
“Vanilla and Margie were never trained by an archbishop. They were selected from a cloister to carry out this specific mission. Nightingale confirmed they weren’t lying.” Agatha clasped her hands. “Isabella is stranger. She seems indifferent to whom she serves, so long as whoever leads is willing to fight the demons. She says she took that disposition from the last Pope.”
“Your opinion?”
“I suggest keeping Isabella, for now.”
“She was raised by the church.” Scroll’s frown deepened. “She’s our enemy. Without her, Zero would never have had the chance to harm His Majesty.”
“As I recall, Wendy was also raised by the church.”
“That’s entirely different. Wendy never used her power to harm anyone.”
“Nor did Isabella—not directly. Her ability acts on God’s Stones. Witches rarely take the initiative to wear them.” Agatha’s voice was patient and precise. “Nightingale confirmed she was telling the truth.”
Roland turned toward the empty side of the bed. A long pause.
“Yeah.” Nightingale’s voice, flat and reluctant.
“Most importantly—her ability,” Agatha continued. “Isabella said every God’s Stone of Retaliation emits a distinctive tremor when it forms a suppression field. She can generate an opposing tremor and cancel it. I suspect this may be the key to understanding Supermagic.” She paused to let the implication land. “If we can map the relationship between the God Stone’s tremors and a witch’s magic power, others may learn to do the same.”
The room went still. Even Ashes said nothing.
Roland understood why. Every witch in this room had grown up under the God Stone’s shadow—arrested by it, imprisoned with it, exiled because of it. To them, it was not a strategic problem. It was the shape of everything that had ever oppressed them.
He stroked his chin. “Creating a tremor to cancel another tremor—that’s wave interference. It would imply that magic power propagates as a wave.” He turned it over, thinking. “Keep her. I’ll see her myself before making any decisions.”
The witches were not the only ones who had been watching over him.
By afternoon, Barov, Iron Axe, and Karl had arrived at the castle in turn. Each face, when it cleared the doorway and found Roland sitting upright, shed the tight, controlled expression of a man who had been holding his anxiety in check for weeks. Barov—who had always maintained a certain ministerial composure—went further than the rest. He crossed the room and embraced Roland, weeping without apparent embarrassment.
Roland understood. Fifty-two days was a long time for a city to wait on a king who might not wake up. The most useful thing he could do now was simply to be visible and calm.
In the evening, a feast was laid in the castle hall—every City Hall official and First Army officer present, the tables extending out into the courtyard. On Roland’s order, carts of hot oatmeal were sent to the main square so that the citizens could mark the occasion as well.
Afterward, he returned to his bedroom and stood in the quiet.
“Nightingale,” he said softly.
No answer.
“Nightingale.” He waited. “I know you’re here.”
Still nothing.
He sighed, turned, and walked two steps toward the door—then reached out and felt her shoulder through the Mist before she could shift away.
She came visible as he caught her, her knees already beginning to bend. He took her weight before she could kneel.
Stronger than I was. He filed the observation away.
He looked at her before she could open her mouth. “I know you feel guilty. It isn’t your fault, and I am safe. Don’t blame yourself. Do you understand?”
“Agatha said the same thing to me. But I still—” Her voice broke off. “Your Majesty?”
He pulled her into his arms.
He had prepared something to say—some careful arrangement of words that would address the problem from the right angle and let her process it properly. But standing there with her, he realized words weren’t what she needed. She needed this. Something that couldn’t be qualified or argued with.
She’d pushed him away without hesitation when Zero struck—stepped directly into the path of the blow, ready to absorb whatever came. That image was still clear in him, the way the truest things always are. What did he owe a woman like that?
Everything I can give.
“Wait for me,” he said quietly.
“Wait for—what?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Her breath quickened in the small space between them, and that was answer enough.
Sometimes silence landed harder than any words. He felt her relax by degrees—the rigid control letting go, the anxiety bleeding out of her muscles, until she settled against him with something that had no name except relief.
A promise was what she needed. A real one, not hedged, not contingent.
“I’ll wait,” she said at last. Her voice was unsteady.
Her eyes were full of tears, but the shadow had gone out of them.
When she left, he slept immediately and soundly—the best sleep he’d had in weeks.
When he opened his eyes, he saw the white ceiling.
That dream again.
He rubbed the back of his head—still tender—and rolled out of bed. In the living room, the white-haired girl was carrying plates out of the kitchen, moving with the brisk, slightly impatient efficiency of someone who had done it a thousand times.
“Finally awake.” Her frown was light, familiar. “What were you doing yesterday, uncle? Did you lose your mind?”
Chapter 634: Nothing to Fear
Translator: TransN Editor: TransN
An hour later, Roland finally figured out what happened when he had been in a coma for more than a month.
Undoubtedly the church had been hard hit as nearly all of the soldiers of the God’s Punishment Army were killed, and half of the soldiers of the Judgement Army died on the battlefield. Among the more than 2,000 enemies who fled, most of them had taken the Pill of Madness and would corrode due to the magic power sooner or later.
What was worse, the pope disappeared and most of the senior commanders died in battle. After this battle, Holy City of Hermes would never have the chance to invade the border of the Kingdom of Graycastle. It would even have difficulty in surviving the Months of Demons which would come soon.
But the First Army also suffered heavy losses.
That was mainly caused by the sudden assault of the witch, Blackveil. All those soldiers who saw her eyes and did not wear the God’s Stone of Retaliation had been affected to some extent. Of the more than 700 casualties, 80% were caused by her.
The fall of Roland had also greatly undermined the morale of the army.
In such circumstances, Iron Axe had to issue an order to withdraw the troop.
Fortunately, at this time, the function of City Hall had been faultless. With concerted efforts all around, it did not encounter any problems. The statement to the public was that His Majesty was wounded in battle and needed to stay in bed. The funeral of the First Army soldiers killed in battle was also held by Iron Axe and Barov.
After listening to the account of the witches, Roland’s interest in the captured pure witches was piqued.
“You just said, they don’t have much affection for the church?” He turned to Agatha. “And that witch named Isabella is willing to help us fight the demons?”
“Neither Vanilla nor Margie were cultivated by the archbishop. They were just chosen from the cloister to carry out this task. Nightingale has confirmed it.” Agatha replied. “It’s strange that Isabella seems not to care about whom she serves, as long as they can defeat the demons. She said she got that idea from the last pope.”
“What’s your opinion on that?”
“I suggest keeping Isabella for the time being.”
“But she’s a pure witch raised by the church. She’s our enemy!” Scroll frowned and said, “If it were not for her, that witch named Zero wouldn’t have had the chance to hurt His Majesty at all.”
“As far as I know, Wendy was also raised by the church.”
“She’s different! She’s never used her power to hurt anyone.”
“Isabella also did not directly hurt any witch. Her ability only works on the God’s Stone, while the witches rarely take the initiative to wear the stones.” Agatha refuted. “Nightingale confirmed that she did not lie.”
“Is that right?” Roland looked to the other side of the bed.
After quite a while, he heard a reluctant reply from there. “Yeah.”
“Most important of all is her ability,” Agatha continued, “Isabella mentioned any black-hole formed by the God’s Stone of Retaliation had a unique tremor, and she could create an opposite tremor so that the stone would lose its function. Perhaps this is the key to figuring out the secret of Supermagic. I even suspect that she’s a natural Supermagic. If we can figure out the
relationship between the God’s Stone and the magic power, the other witches may also be able to do the same.”
Hearing that, the crowd could not help gasping in astonishment.
For most of them, the God’s Stone of Retaliation was a shackle which they could not throw off. Due to the restraint of the God’s Stone, they were subjected to oppression and exile, and they were helpless in the face of capture by the church and the noble.
Roland thoughtfully stroked his chin. “Creating a tremor to cancel out another tremor? This is basically the same characteristics of the wave. Does it mean that magic power also spreads in accordance with the way a wave spreads?”
“In that case, leave her aside,” he said after a moment of pondering, “Wait until I see her.”
…
Obviously, the witches were not the only ones in Neverwinter who were concerned about his safety. In the afternoon, Barov, Iron Axe, Karl and other high officials received the news and came to the castle one after another. Everyone had a relieved look after seeing him, especially City Hall Director Barov, who even sobbed when hugging Roland.
As he just awoke, instead of asking too much about political affairs, he just casually chatted with them in order to placate them. His long period absence due to his coma had panicked the insiders of Neverwinter. Now the most important thing to do was to cheer them up and inform everyone that their king had recovered.
In the evening, a sumptuous feast was held in the castle. Almost all of the officials of City Hall and the First Army were present, the lines of tables full of food were even extended to the yard.
What was more, Roland also ordered that they should send carts of hot oatmeal to the square so that all of the citizens could also participate in this celebration.
After having dinner together, Roland went to his bedroom.
“Nightingale,” he said softly.
No one responded.
“Nightingale.” He repeated. “I know you’re here.”
Still no response.
Roland sighed, turned and walked out of two steps. He reached out and felt Nightingale standing there.
He held her up before she prepared to kneel down after appearing out of the Mist.
Well, he seemed to have become stronger.
But that was not important. Roland stared at her fiercely and said before she opened her mouth. “I know you feel guilty. But it’s not your fault and I’m safe now. So don’t blame yourself anymore. Do you understand?”
“Agatha had reminded me, but I still… Ah, Your, Your Majesty?”
Roland directly hugged her.
This was the first time he brought himself to hug Nightingale.
Roland had originally prepared a lot of words to comfort her, but he changed his mind when he was going to open his mouth.
He knew what she really needed.
Before he was hit by the shadow of Zero, Nightingale pushed him away, regardless of her own safety. The scene where she stood in front of him to protect him was still vivid in his memory. She was prepared to sacrifice herself for him at that moment. So what else should he expect from such a woman?
“Wait for me.” Roland whispered. “I’ll settle it.”
“Settle… what?”
He did not reply, but he knew that Nightingale knew what he meant. Her slightly eager breath was the best proof.
The silence was often an invisible injury.
Since he could not ignore it, he had to take on the responsibility.
Even if it was a path through the thorns.
He felt Nightingale gradually relax in his embrace. After her anxiety was finally relieved, she became determined again.
When someone was vulnerable, a promise would be enough.
Then the expectation was not in vain.
“Ah, I’ll wait.” She wept.
Her eyes were full of tears, but the sadness disappeared.
The wet and warm tears also filled Roland’s heart with determination.
After Nightingale left, he slept soundly that night.
When he opened his eyes, he saw that white ceiling again.
Well… it’s this awful dream again.
As he had already known how to get away from the dream, he was quite calm this time.
Rubbing the back of his head which was still aching, he walked out of his bedroom. He saw that white-haired girl carrying the plates out of the kitchen.
“You got up finally.” She frowned. “Did you go mad yesterday, uncle?”