CH644 · Rewrite
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Chapter 644: Diplomacy in the New Era

After lunch, Roland summoned Barov into the bedroom.

The Director of City Hall had never been invited here before. His caution showed in the deliberateness of each step, but beneath it ran something unmistakable — excitement, barely contained. Roland watched him and thought, with some amusement, of the old story about the celebrity who received visitors in disarray, his clothes still disheveled from bed, and found that the disorder only deepened his guests’ reverence. Some men took a king conducting business from beneath his blankets as the ultimate sign of trust.

Male officials had certain advantages that way. He could talk with Barov all night, share a bed with him without raising a single eyebrow. If it were Edith Kant, that would be gossip by sundown.

Roland set the thought aside. “How many letters arrived while I was fighting in the Northern Region and afterward in my coma?”

“Sixteen in total.” Barov answered promptly. “Most are from domain lords requesting trade or permission to visit. Two confidential letters from the Eastern Region propose peace negotiation. I’ve answered them all per your standing instructions.”

The arrangement had been made before the campaign: Barov would handle administrative affairs in Roland’s absence, reading all correspondence, sending anything critical north by carrier pigeon. Sixteen letters. A busy kingdom.

“Just a peace negotiation? No surrender?”

“No, Your Majesty. They’re unwilling to relinquish the right of enfeoffment. They also urge you to honor the traditions and dignity of the nobility.”

“Next spring they’ll know what choice to make.” Roland shrugged. “Which letters need my attention?”

Barov produced two sheets. “One from the Astrology Association in the city of Dawn. The other from the Kingdom of Dawn itself. Both arrived while you were in deep sleep. They contain something… somewhat unexpected.”

Roland took the parchment marked with a constellation seal first.

It was from the Astrologer of Dispersion Star — half a page of gracious greeting and thanks for the astronomical telescopes Roland had sent to the observatory. Then, on the second half, the letter numbed him into stillness.

They’ve tracked the Star of Extinction.

A star that burns red. Fixed in a permanent position in the sky.

Synchronous orbit. The term rose from his memory without effort. Only an object on synchronous orbit could remain stationary relative to a planet’s surface. If Bloody Moon traveled such a path, its position would make sense — apparently fixed, apparently permanent.

And they said its size appears extremely small.

So Bloody Moon is not a natural celestial body. It’s a man-made satellite.

He sat with that for a moment, then dismissed it. If it were a satellite, how could it descend? According to Agatha’s account, the moment Bloody Moon appeared in full, the entire continent would witness it — greater and brighter than the moon, its scarlet light dyeing the walls of Holy City red. Visible even through daylight. A satellite on synchronous orbit didn’t account for descent.

It makes no sense.

He set the letter aside. “Write back to the Astrology Association. Invite the astrologers to come to Neverwinter.”

Barov hesitated. “They rejected a previous invitation, Your Majesty. I’m not certain they’ll respond differently now.”

“The situation has changed.” Roland tapped the table. “The Association has found the star they want to study — they’ll go wherever they can observe it best. Tell them in the letter that Neverwinter has developed superior astronomical telescopes and that we’ve located ancient texts regarding the Star of Extinction. That should bring them.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The second document was a carrier pigeon slip — brief, as pigeon messages always were.

The King of Dawn has died. His eldest son Appen Moya has taken the throne.

Appen has ordered the elimination of church believers, severed trade with Holy City, and begun hunting down witches.

A rebellion has broken out along the border and affected our caravan.

The original plan may be temporarily suspended.

Roland frowned.

He understood Barov’s confusion — the man didn’t know what the Church had done to the Kingdom of Dawn. After Isabella and her companions withdrew, the King of Dawn would eventually die without his pills. That part Roland had anticipated. What he hadn’t anticipated was how Appen would respond: with such violence, such breadth of retaliation that it swept witches into its orbit.

Of the three policies, eliminating church believers was defensible. Cutting trade routes was an impulsive act that would anger border lords and invite rebellion — almost certainly a church-engineered outcome. But hunting witches was simply contrary to Roland’s interests, and he could see no coherent reason for it except grief twisted into rage: a young king who’d watched his father die and wanted the world to know it.

The three great families would not have counseled this. Appen had lost his composure.

“Send a formal diplomatic letter to Appen,” Roland said slowly. “Congratulate him on his coronation. Then warn him: stop hunting witches. A natural witch is not a common witch. The Kingdom of Graycastle has established a formal witch organization, and any nation that treats witches as enemies treats Graycastle as its enemy.”

Barov blotted the sweat from his forehead. “Your Majesty — are you certain you want those exact words? He’ll read it as a threat.”

“I am threatening him.”

Barov’s pen stopped.

Roland continued. “If Appen Moya insists on this course, then when we take Holy City next year, I’ll support a new ruler in the Kingdom of Dawn — a wise king who’ll stand with Graycastle in the Battle of Divine Will. Andrea of House Quinn would be a sound choice.”

Silence in the room.

“Diplomacy in the new era,” Roland said, “is built on steel and firearms. What I cannot win at the negotiating table, I’ll take by other means. Intervening in succession, supporting rivals, stationing troops — these will be the ordinary instruments of foreign policy. I won’t let any kingdom obstruct us before Bloody Moon comes.” He paused. “The letter’s purpose is simple. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’”

Barov Mons stood very still. His expression moved through astonishment, then excitement, then undisguised awe — all in the space of a few seconds. He bent in a deep bow. “I’ll convey your will to the Kingdom of Dawn, Your Majesty.”

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