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Chapter 684: The First Winter Snow

Three days later—the second day of winter—Barov delivered word that the Joint Chamber of Commerce contract had been signed.

The terms: Margaret secured the dealership for the Kingdom of Graycastle’s interior. Sunset Island and Shallow Water Town took the dealerships for their own territories, the Kingdom of Everwinter, and the Kingdom of Wolfheart. Crescent Moon Bay received the dealership for the Fjords islands and the Kingdom of Dawn.

What surprised Roland was a formula embedded in the contract’s body—an equation that set several variables as unknowns to be determined by specific annual circumstances, allowing the year’s profit shares to be derived precisely from actual figures.

“Who wrote this?” Roland asked.

“My student.” Barov stroked his beard, pleased with himself. “When he was summarizing the numbers, he encountered a complex supplementary table and realized a formula expressed it better. All three parties agreed it was more accurate.”

“I don’t believe that formula was covered in the universal education curriculum.”

“Didn’t Your Majesty open an intermediate class? I bought each of my students a set of mathematics textbooks and arranged for them to attend Lady Scroll’s lectures whenever they had time.” The old minister shook his head with something like wistfulness. “I am too old to keep pace with them. If I were ten years younger, I would carry those materials Your Majesty wrote and study them all day.”

Roland accepted the flattery with appropriate pleasure. His minister had grasped, before most, that mathematics was useful in finance and administration. That was genuine foresight.

“How did Edith perform during the negotiation?”

“Just so-so.” Barov coughed twice. “The merchants were certainly fascinated by her, but on the specific trade terms she showed a clear deficiency in experience. Maritime commerce is not well-developed in the Northern Region—unlike the old king’s city, where the Treasurer dealt with Fjords merchants daily. In my time, there was a period when I…”

“I see.” Noticing the reminiscence gathering behind Barov’s eyes, Roland cut it short. “In that case, please make more effort to teach her.”

The old minister startled. “Um—this—Your Majesty, she’s actually quite—”

“It’s decided.” Roland said it with quiet satisfaction. He could tell from the rhythm of Nightingale’s fingers at his shoulder—a precise pinch delivered at exactly the right moment—that Barov was shading the truth. He didn’t intend to expose that. Small deceptions among subordinates were manageable, provided they didn’t become disasters. The more important function Barov served was as a counterweight—someone who could restrain the Pearl of the Northern Region. That was worth preserving. “Now—what is the population figure for Neverwinter? Have we met our target?”

With winter settled and the immigrant emissaries returning to the city, the flow of newcomers had effectively stopped. The current count was as final as it would get until spring.

At this, Barov’s face transformed. The wrinkles deepened into ravines as he smiled, and the earlier awkwardness evaporated entirely. “Your Majesty, City Hall has completed its calculation. Immigrants from outside the Western Region exceeded eighty thousand, with fully half coming voluntarily. Including the native population of the Border Area and the Longsong Area, Neverwinter now holds one hundred and ten thousand residents.”

“Fifty percent voluntary?”

“Most came from the central kingdom and the Eastern Region. It was not noticeable in spring or summer—but in autumn the voluntary share began climbing. At this rate, the nobles who still support Timothy will start to worry next year.”

That would be partly Theo’s work—spreading news of the church’s defeat throughout the Eastern Region all autumn. Roland had hoped the rebels would hold out longer, frankly. He needed a legitimate pretext to clear the Eastern Region and give those subjects a stable beginning under the new kingdom. Stubborn nobles would provide that pretext naturally.

“Winter preparations—are they complete?”

“City Hall finished them two months ago.” Barov spoke with uncharacteristic confidence. “The Ministry of Construction tasked Miss Lotus with building cave dwellings between the Impassable Mountain Range and Redwater River to replace the leaking shanties. We’ve also hoarded sufficient charcoal to guarantee every civilian at least one basket.”

After Roland’s repeated emphasis, “no one freezes or starves to death” had finally become an actual administrative goal—embedded in policy decisions, tracked in reports.

“Good. Please pass word to Scroll: education continues through winter.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“One more thing.” Roland walked around the desk and set a hand on Barov’s shoulder. “I intend to wage a limited campaign during the Months of Demons, without disrupting Neverwinter’s normal operations. The target is the Southernmost Region. When Iron Axe finishes the specific battle plan, coordinate with him on supplies.” He watched the hesitation move through the old minister’s face. “Don’t worry. I have it under control.”


After Barov left, Nightingale appeared.

She asked without preamble: “Are you sure this is alright? What he said about Edith was clearly untrue. You don’t need magic to see that.”

“But if I expose him, he’ll never dare restrain Edith openly again.” Roland spread his hands. “To keep City Hall functioning well, someone has to be able to check the Pearl of the Northern Region. As far as I know, Barov is the only one capable of it.”

“Why do you want to restrain her at all? If she has the skill to manage City Hall, that’s only to your benefit.”

“Because…” Roland opened his mouth.

And stopped.

Right. Why would I want Edith restrained?

Was he worried she would grow too powerful? Unlikely. He was still king—one word and she could be removed. City Hall had no authority over the army; even if Edith controlled every department, she posed no threat to the throne. And since all City Hall employees had been selected by public recruitment and paid from the treasury, the disruption from replacing any manager was structurally minimized.

Was he worried she would distort his policies without his knowledge? It wouldn’t happen in Neverwinter. All commentary on his decisions reached him one way or another. The city was small enough that information moved in nearly real time.

Before he had come to this world, he had despised check-and-balance as a strategy—the kind of thing his old boss had used as a tool of political manipulation, something small and venal he’d held in contempt. But standing in power himself, he was beginning to understand why the instinct persisted. If Nightingale hadn’t reminded him just now, he might have become the very kind of person he’d once scorned.

The lesson wasn’t that check-and-balance was good. It was that the right version of it wasn’t about playing people against each other for personal control. It meant structures, policies, laws—frameworks that governed behavior without requiring constant manipulation. Inside those frameworks, people should be encouraged to use their full abilities.

Roland exhaled slowly, almost ready to thank Nightingale for the correction, when he noticed she had turned entirely away and was staring at the window.

“Look,” she whispered. “It’s snowing.”

He turned. From the flat grey sky, countless white flakes descended in silence—soft and deliberate, like thoughts not yet formed.

The Months of Demons had begun.

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