Rewrite That Witch
CH837 · Rewrite
☕ Support

Chapter 837: Letter to the Sleeping Island

Tilly sat at her desk with a letter that refused to end.

The carrier pigeon required economy — tight language, the most concise rendering of what needed saying. She had told herself the content was simple enough to dispatch in two or three sentences. Somehow, her hand kept moving. She was writing something closer to a family manual, letting her thoughts run where they wanted, and this was so unlike her that she paused twice to examine the feeling.

It was not, she decided, an unpleasant feeling. Since nothing vital hung in the balance, she let the pen continue.

Slim ink marks spread across the paper and she felt, without quite understanding why, a quiet warmth.

Dear Camilla,

The Months of Demons is over and the Western Region is calm again. Victory Day was particularly memorable — do you remember the hot pot I told you about in my last letter? Roland moved the whole cooking method to the town square, with four enormous woks of broth going at once, and then the meat and vegetables and whole chickens and Bird Beak Mushrooms went in. The fragrance crossed the Redwater River. He said the hot pot was something any visitor to Neverwinter absolutely had to experience.

With Roland’s encouragement, everyone added whatever they liked to their own pots. I’ll admit that with a rich enough broth, almost anything tastes good — and there was no distinction between City Hall officials, the Witch Union members, and ordinary residents. All of them at the same tables, in the same square. That scene would have been impossible, once. And knowing what follows it — the war to come, the scale of it — made the joy of that afternoon feel all the more precious.

I’m writing this to tell you that Neverwinter is a genuinely extraordinary place — and I don’t mean that to alter your views of the nobility. What I mean is that Roland Wimbledon is not a noble, not in any way that matters. I’ve now confirmed what we suspected. He is, as we are — that identity was only ever a passage or a cover. You should see this city. Sleeping Island needs guardians, but I don’t want you to experience that guardianship as a cage.

As for what happened during the Months of Demons: our witches finally had a real role. Roland’s Southernmost Region plan was carried out by Ashes, Andrea, and Echo. The interesting particulars will have to wait until we can speak in person — this paper isn’t the place for them. What I can say is that the Sleeping Island’s importance will only grow as more of our sisters move here.

A hand appeared over her shoulder and set a glass of azure liquid on the desk.

Tilly smiled without turning. She already knew.

“I was just writing about you,” she said. “Would you like to read it?”

“Better not.” Ashes rubbed her shoulders gently. “I still have dinner to prepare.”

“Then go. I’m looking forward to it.” Tilly laughed. The witches usually dined with Roland in the castle’s living room; the small kitchen in their apartment rarely saw use. But they had been apart for months, and Ashes wanted one evening alone — which Tilly was not going to refuse. Besides, Ashes had mentioned a condiment she’d obtained somewhere in the Southernmost Region, with a kind of deliberate mystery that could only be intentional.

She took a long sip of the Chaos Drink — cold as a spring, clean on the tongue — then set down the glass and continued.

After all that, let me turn to practical matters.

Under our agreement, the relocation begins in spring. The time has come, and my thinking hasn’t changed. Everything has gone according to plan, and indeed somewhat better — so we should simply proceed. I trust you are already well prepared.

Once the Months of Demons ends, the Fjords trade routes will fill quickly and it may be difficult to hire ships on short notice. If that becomes a problem, ask Thunder for help — he is currently seeking Sealine adventurers and has both ships and crew. Before the steel ship Roland is building for him is finished, Thunder will remain in the Fjords. He will help us if we reach him.

Also: do not forget to make our new location known to the lords and merchants of the island chain. Tell them that the Sleeping Spell remains open to everyone. Don’t worry that the distance will make us inaccessible — Western Region’s Shallow Beach is already in use, and Roland intends to build a new port at Endless Cape. Neverwinter ships will be able to reach the Fjords easily. I have a sense that this route will become the busiest crossing between the mainland and the islands, especially after the converted paddle steamer in harbor is complete.

Remember this, Camilla: migrating to the Western Region is not the same as abandoning the Sleeping Island.

She paused, and continued with the sentence that mattered most.

Neverwinter is the front line. It is the most dangerous place once the battle of Divine Will begins. As part of humanity, we should try to do what we can here. Even Roland cannot guarantee victory. If the Western Region falls, the Fjords islands will be the only refuge remaining. So it is important that the Sleeping Island endure — and it is equally important that those who guard it are not trapped there alone. The guardians can rotate. Everyone should have the chance to come here and experience something like ordinary life again. That is what I would like to see.

Take care of yourself.

Tilly Wimbledon

She set down the pen and let out a long breath.

Camilla Dary had been a noble before she came to the island — old blood from the capital, someone who had seen enough of the nobility’s private machinery to stop believing in it entirely. She still supported every decision Tilly made. But in their last conversation, there had been something in her tone, a soft finality, suggesting she intended to stay behind in the Sleeping Island permanently.

Tilly understood the impulse. She even respected it, in a way. But the island should be a post, not a sentence. One person standing guard alone at the edge of the world was a waste — of that person and of everything she might contribute if she came here. More and more sisters were arriving in the Western Region every month. Eventually the tide would shift even Camilla’s thinking.

She rolled the sheets into careful scrolls and tied them with cord.

When Honey arrived and saw five or six scrolls laid out on the desk, her eyes went wide.

“Are all of these going to the Sleeping Island?”

“All of them. All to Camilla.” Tilly glanced up. “Is it too many?”

“Not at all!” Honey pressed her hands to her chest. “If it’s Your Highness Tilly’s letter, it has to be sent no matter what. I’ll go catch two seabirds right now — secret document, honey grilled fish, anything, I’ll send it!”

Tilly watched her go — that bounding, irrepressible energy — and walked to the window to look toward the direction of the Fjords.

Before long, the witches who had been driven from their homes would stand on mainland soil again. Starting here, in Neverwinter, everything that had ever been said about witches would begin to change.

By then, the Western Region would be livelier still.

She was sincerely looking forward to it.

Discussion

Suggest a change