CH773 · Rewrite
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Chapter 773: The Third Border City

The entrance to the cave lay north of Neverwinter, at the seam where the city gave way to the mountain range. Nearby, the mining and furnace areas ran at their usual feverish pace, smoke rising against the grey sky.

At the foot of the mountain, a solid concrete wall appeared—still incomplete in places, still under construction along its upper courses, but already the most heavily guarded location in Neverwinter. Watchtowers anchored each corner. Wire netting crowned the top. On each side of the gate, a machine-gun blockhouse stood with its aperture aimed at the approach.

The guards saluted as Roland walked through and into the yard.

The moment he crossed the threshold, something shifted in his chest—a faint, incongruous recognition.

What he saw here did not belong to this era.

The cave entrance was faced with poured concrete, ten meters wide and more than five meters tall. The two iron doors hung in it like the gates of a fortified keep from some future century: each panel a meter thick, jointed from multiple layers of steel plate rather than solid-cast, their dimensions rivaling the walls of a building. A modern military stronghold would not have been embarrassed by them.

The weight of those doors made ordinary hinges impossible. Slideways ran beneath them, recessed into the floor, and even with the slideways they could not be drawn by hand. One of the two steam engines in the yard was dedicated solely to providing the force needed to move them. If the demonic beasts ever broke through the Taquila witches’ defensive line, the relics could be retrieved in time; and then those doors would seal everything else outside.

Roland had been present the day they were installed and first operated. Standing in the yard listening to the steam engine’s toneless roar, the screech of steel on sliding tracks, watching the immense doors inch shut—he had felt, obscurely, that he was standing at the mouth of the last shelter before the end of the world.

Nearly a third of Neverwinter’s winter steel output had gone into those two doors alone. Their simplicity of shape—plain rectangles—made them sound easy. Their sheer scale made them anything but.

On each door, half a line of characters had been cast into the steel. Together they read: Third Border City.

Roland and the small crowd behind him walked through and into the cave. The light dropped immediately.

Phyllis produced a Stone of Lighting and moved to the head of the column, leading them downward.

“Your Majesty, I’ve never understood why you call it the Third Border City,” Wendy said beside him, her voice dampened by the stone walls. “If Border Town is the first—where’s the second?”

“Because three is the proper number for a stronghold.”

“Ah?”

“Besides,” Roland said, with a slight gesture, “the number doesn’t matter as much as the name being remembered.”

“As long as you’re satisfied with it,” Wendy said, and he could hear the skepticism in her voice even in the dark.

After that the only sounds were footsteps, multiplied by stone, and the distant drip of underground water.

Only the floor had been paved with concrete—the cave was too large for anything more with current materials. Along either side ran a drainage ditch and a section of mine-cart railway; supplies and food were moved on carts pulled by the second steam engine stationed at the entrance. Phyllis had once mentioned that the God’s Punishment Witches, curious about the machine’s power, had set five of themselves pulling against its drag rope and could not slow it down.

The walls and ceiling remained raw stone—no way to waterproof them—and moisture seeped through in irregular patches. But devouring worms, moving through the mountain’s passages, left dried mucus in their wake; it bonded the loose material on the cave surfaces into something like a plastered skin. The ceiling did not threaten to fall.

After roughly half an hour’s walking, the darkness ahead began to ease.

Phyllis slowed. “Your Majesty, do you need—”

Roland understood and cut her off. “Take me through.”

The God’s Punishment Witch looked back at him with an expression he had learned to read as something between concern and respect. ”…Understood.”

They stepped out of the narrow passage and into a large cavern.

The cavern opened into a domed hall the size of a football field. Tens of light beams lanced down from fixtures in the ceiling, scattering bright circles across the floor. Even this far underground, even this far from the sky, the space did not feel oppressive. It simply felt contained—held by stone, lit from above, vast enough to breathe in.

Beyond the witches who served as the permanent watch, soldiers from the First Army stood at their posts; every one of them had passed Nightingale’s examination, each vetted as among Roland’s most loyal. The deeper into the dome one went, the farther from the ceiling lights, until the center of the hall lay in near-darkness. There, three rhombus-shaped magic cores hung motionless in the air—the three Taquila Senior Witches, the original carriers, waiting.

Roland walked toward them, and his right hand was already extended when he reached the nearest one.

“I’m glad we could meet in person at last. You must be Pasha.”

Behind him, he felt Nightingale shift her weight—ready to pull him into the Mist at the first wrong movement. Her hand settled briefly on his shoulder.

Pasha was silent for a long moment. Then her voice came, recognizable from the Illusion Core sessions, now resonating in the open air.

“I’m surprised, Your Majesty. Before today we’ve communicated only through the Illusion Core—and those projected images were not, perhaps, fully alarming. But standing here, in person, to encounter this shell and respond as though nothing had happened… you are the first. Even the Taquila witches, when they first saw this form, were not as composed as you are.” A tentacle extended—coarse, moist against his palm, warmer than he expected—and curled gently around his hand. “But you’re right. I’m Pasha. Thank you for your support.”

“He hasn’t supported us.” A second voice, cold and clipped. “It remains unclear whether the common people he sent were help or surveillance. We can assess his character after he’s finished exploring the snow mountain.”

“Alethea.” A third voice, firm and slightly reproving. “We agreed.”

“Fine. I’ll be quiet.”

The two others were Alethea and Celine—Roland had heard their names and recognized their registers. He did not hold the tone against them. These witches had lived through an era when witches were unchallenged; shifting that perspective was not an afternoon’s work. And he cared less about their attitudes than about what they held in this cavern.

“The Fjords’ most celebrated explorer once wrote that fear comes from the unknown,” Roland said. “Whatever your appearance, your souls belong to Taquila—and Taquila is not unknown to me. Agatha has become an essential member of the Witch Union. A trusted one.”

Pasha’s tentacle tightened the smallest fraction.

”…I see.” There was something wistful in it. “Our cooperation began long before today.”

“Against the demons, everyone has to let go of old prejudices and join hands.” A brief pause, and then Roland moved to what he had come for. “The relics of gods—they’ve arrived? May I see the things on which humanity’s fate rests?”

Pasha’s upper tentacles swept an arc of invitation.

“Of course. Come with me.”

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