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Chapter 682: A Never Lonely Road

After Camilla Dary left, Ashes stepped out of the study.

She settled onto the rug, knees folded beneath her, and stretched her hands toward Tilly. “Come here.”

“I’m fine—”

“Don’t pretend.” Ashes didn’t soften it. “There’s no one else.”

Tilly’s lips twitched. She crossed the room and settled into Ashes’ chest, back against her, and felt the steady rhythm of a heartbeat come through the fabric like a slow drum.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“Don’t push yourself so hard.” Ashes’ voice dropped. “If we’ve made a wrong decision, the worst that happens is we come back to Sleeping Island. Roland Wimbledon won’t stop you—not with the entire Witch Union at your back.” She paused. “And you didn’t have to sound so certain earlier. Leave yourself room to doubt. Then at least the pressure wouldn’t be yours alone.”

Tilly shook her head. “I have to be convinced myself before I can convince anyone else. If I’m hesitant, the decision goes nowhere.”

She appeared confident. She was. But confidence was not the same as certainty, and there were two things she returned to in the dark corners of her mind when the bonfire noise from the square faded and the wind came back.

The first: after nearly two years of isolated life on this island, could three hundred some witches truly fit into Neverwinter—a city with its own rhythms, its own people, its own way of being? The second: when the Battle of Divine Will was finally over and the demons no longer pressed at every horizon, would common people change the way they looked at witches? Or would old fear resurface, the way cold comes back into a room the moment you open a window?

These were unknown risks. They had no answers. Most of the witches on Sleeping Island felt lighter now that the church was defeated—and they were right to. But Tilly’s responsibilities had grown heavier with every name Camilla added to the list. She no longer answered for herself alone.

“Just do what you’ve decided.” Ashes’ arms tightened around her from behind. “The immigration won’t begin until the end of the next Months of Demons. You still have time to investigate.”

“Is the Charming Beauty ready to sail?”

“Anytime.”

“Don’t forget your textbooks and exercise books. You can study in the cabin.”

“If I read below deck, I’ll be seasick.”

“If you want to protect me, you need to become stronger than this. Legendary Transcendent stronger, if possible. That requires study.”

Ashes muttered something that resolved into: “All right. Fine. I got it.”

“And if you find something you can’t understand, ask me at any time. I’ll have nothing else to do on the ship.”

“Yes, yes, yes. As Your Highness commands.”

Fortunately, I am not alone anymore.

No matter what came afterward, someone would always be beside her.

“Yeah,” Tilly said aloud. She closed her eyes and felt the warmth at her back. The weight of responsibility didn’t disappear—but it became, for a moment, bearable.

Outside, the wind still howled through the walls. Inside, it felt like spring.


Establishing a Joint Chamber of Commerce was slow, careful work—every treaty clause disputed and amended and disputed again. Roland handed it to Barov and Edith and turned his attention to the winter operation plan.

The Months of Demons were running late. Today was the final day of autumn, and the sky outside was a flat grey with no snow yet. Good news for Neverwinter. Every additional week of dry ground meant more residential buildings completed before the cold locked everything down.

The City Hall reports confirmed it: the Western Region had accumulated more in every category this year than in any previous one—grain especially. The Stronghold Area had yielded ten times its historical average, and Petrov had built additional storage in time to handle it. Half the surplus had been shipped to the Border Area, since the Stronghold couldn’t hold it all.

With enough grain, Roland could think beyond simple survival.

Ammunition had likewise recovered. Anna’s improved machine tools and processing machinery had gone to work on bullets first, raising output considerably. The shortfall from the church campaign was largely filled.

Which left him thinking about the winter itself.

The First Army’s primary purpose remained what it had always been: prevent demonic beasts, guard Neverwinter. But keeping thousands of soldiers inside the city walls all season felt like waste, when the tactical math had shifted so dramatically. Most beasts swarmed the big breach at Hermes; only scattered individuals reached the Misty Forest side. And the First Army’s firepower now exceeded last year’s by better than tenfold—common beasts couldn’t approach the wall before being turned back.

There were no rivals on the continent who could match them. Not even demonic beasts, season by season. When he’d fought Duke Ryan he had emptied every barrel and cannon he possessed. Now five hundred soldiers could break any knightage foolish enough to meet them in open battle.

So: defend the city with one force, open a second battlefield with another. Could it reduce the burden of next year’s main expedition?

The answer seemed clear. The old problem had been logistics—endless snowfall blocking every road in the Western Region. But cement carriers had changed that, and the Redwater River could carry soldiers and supplies to almost anywhere the plan required. Two battles at once was no longer impossible.

Ah, Roland thought. Like running a monopoly.

He’d received Hill’s letter and already ordered the Northern Region to prepare for war—not as a bluff. If Appen Moya had ignored the warnings and arrested the messenger’s party, Roland would have shifted priorities and forced the King of Dawn to release them, whatever it cost. But cross-border campaigns demanded serious logistical support, and Hermes Plateau was still a fracture point that could collapse at any time. War with a neighboring country right now would be premature.

But the delegation had arrived safely. That freed him to target something closer.

“Your Majesty. You requested me?”

Iron Axe stepped through the open door.

“Are you interested in returning to your homeland this winter?” Roland spread a rough map of Graycastle across the desk and tapped the southern corner, where it bulged away from the rest. “I recall that both you and Echo come from the desert lands.”

He wanted to take the Southernmost Region before spring—the territory of the Mojin Clan.

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