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Chapter 779: The King’s Decision

Roland knocked on the table once, and the hall went quiet.

He rose from his chair and walked behind the row of officials—so that they had to turn in their seats to face him, or not. He let that choice sit for a moment before he spoke.

“When the Months of Demons end, we enter Graycastle’s most important year. I will unify the kingdom. I will hold my coronation and be named king in full—and every person sitting in this hall will rise from city official to minister of the realm.”

Two years ago, those words from Roland Wimbledon would have been the ravings of an isolated prince in a border town no one cared about. A year ago, they would have been ambitious theory. Today, there was no doubt in the room—not a flicker. The people around this table had spent two years inside the engine of Neverwinter’s growth. They knew what it had built. They knew what it was capable of.

Every official came to their feet, right hands pressed to their chests in a single motion, almost synchronized.

“Your Majesty—it is our honor.”

The complaints had not vanished, but they had stepped aside. Roland gestured for them to sit.

“That is not the full extent of it. My Graycastle will be larger than any kingdom before it—north to the Hermes Plateau, south to the Endless Cape, west to the Barbarian Land, east to the Fjord Islands.” He let that map settle. “To make it so, the First Army will be occupied without pause, which means fewer men at home. This is why the snow mountain must be secured now, while resources are still available. I will not leave an unknown threat in the mountains above my king’s city while my main force is elsewhere.”

Carter lowered his voice—this was not an objection, merely a possibility offered to his king. “Your Majesty, perhaps the First Army and the Witch Union together would be sufficient—”

“No.” Roland’s answer was clean and immediate. “In an underground cave with complex terrain, no prepared positions, and no maps, firearms and artillery are sharply limited. If hybrid demonic beasts are waiting in that dark, the cost to the First Army alone would be unacceptable. This is precisely why we need the Taquila witches. Their God’s Punishment Warriors complement what our soldiers can do. The First Army secures the perimeter and covers withdrawal. This is the most prudent arrangement possible.”

Carter said nothing.

Roland looked at the table.

“Let me be direct. Do not come to me with reasons it cannot be done. You are here to find ways that it can. If you find you are unable to do that—” a pause— “my City Hall has no need for officials who cannot.”

He looked at the City Hall Director.

“Barov Mons.”

Barov flinched. “Yes, Your Majesty!”

“Can the final accounts be reconciled and the expedition logistics arranged?”

“There is—no problem. I believe.” The handkerchief came out again. “I’ll have a plan prepared in five days.”

“Three,” Roland said.

A pause. “Three days, Your Majesty. Yes.”

He turned. “Sirius Daly.”

“Your Majesty.” The Minister of Agriculture sat straight.

“If the Border Area stocks are insufficient, supplement from the Longsong surplus. We have enough concrete boats for the transfer. This is a logistics problem, not an obstacle. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Your Majesty—very clear.”

“Karl Van Bate.”

The Minister of Construction did not wait. “Your Majesty, I will survey the geological condition of the mining and furnace areas myself.”

“Good.” Roland settled back in his chair. “Then let’s move forward.”


Every remaining objection resolved itself with the speed that follows a king’s certainty. Specific tasks, specific deadlines, specific people—the meeting found its rhythm once Roland had taken the wheel.

When the formal discussion turned to expedition composition, Pasha’s voice returned to the hall—arriving directly into each official’s mind, bypassing ears entirely.

Most of them went rigid. But they had already committed to cooperating with the Taquila witches, and they could see Roland engaging with this disembodied voice as though it were an unremarkable thing. So they managed. Chins went down, eyes fixed to the table, lips pressed together in expressions of intense concentration that had nothing to do with concentration. As though deep thought might serve as armor against the alien.

Barov tried several times to look up. Each attempt failed at approximately chin level.

Roland watched them and found himself caught between laughter and something warmer.

Edith did not look away from the light curtain. She asked questions directly, in the straightforward tone she used for Roland. When a Senior Witch replied, she listened, and then asked the next thing.

At the end, both parties had agreed: fifty God’s Punishment Witches from Taquila, paired with the Witch Union as the expedition’s main force. Five hundred soldiers from the First Army under Brian, setting sentry lines and holding the retreat corridors. The troops remaining in Neverwinter would fall to Carter—the border defense would continue through the Months of Demons without pause.

Roland was drawing the meeting to a close when Edith raised her hand.

“Your Majesty, I’d like to apply to join the Snow Mountain Exploration Team.”

Barov’s expression pulled tight with the particular impatience he reserved for things that seemed designed to make his position harder. “You’re not a witch and you’re not a soldier. Don’t interfere with His Majesty’s plan.”

“I trained as a fencing coach for a knight battalion,” Edith said. She was not addressing Barov. “I have faced every opponent assigned to me, including demonic beasts, and defeated each one in under five rounds. I am capable of defending myself.”

Roland looked at her with genuine interest. “What is your reason?”

She answered without inflection, selecting her words with the same precision she would bring to a written report.

“The Battle of Divine Will is approaching, and not one official sitting in this hall has seen a demon or an underground creature with their own eyes. If we don’t understand our enemy, we cannot anticipate what this war will cost us. Someone in this room might think that because the First Army fights the battles, their department is insulated—but once the fighting begins, every department will be called on. Construction will answer to needs it has never anticipated. Agriculture will supply an effort it cannot yet imagine. The officials best equipped to serve the kingdom are those who have seen what they’re preparing for.” She paused. “I want to understand what we are facing.”

Barov opened his mouth. Nothing came out. What she had said was organized and difficult to counter, and he knew it.

Roland found himself thinking—not about the current question but about a rule he hadn’t fully formed yet. Promotion conditional on wartime service near the front lines. A guarantee that no City Hall official could issue decrees in a war they had never witnessed. A guarantee that the gap between command and reality would stay small.

He set it aside. Later.

He nodded to the Pearl of the Northern Region.

“Get ready for the expedition.”

She smoothed the hair beside her ear, a small unconscious gesture, and bowed.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

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