CH848 · Rewrite
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Chapter 848: Mission Pure Witch

“I thought you wanted to be King of Dawn yourself.” Nightingale twisted her lips once Andrea had gone. “But it turns out you weren’t joking about making her the monarch.”

“I knew you’d figure it out.” Roland shrugged. When she waited for more, he considered several explanations — the shortage of able personnel, Andrea’s reach across the three families, the constraints on time and coin — and instead settled for the simplest one. “I’m just not capable enough.”

“Really.” Nightingale patted his shoulder with exaggerated sympathy. “I’m sure you can count on Andrea. The Quinn Family won’t let you down.”

These two certainly think well of each other. Roland kept his amusement internal. Nightingale’s political instincts were sharp in some directions and oddly blunted in others — a consequence, perhaps, of having grown up as a noble family’s dependent. Family background wasn’t the deciding factor here. What mattered was that Andrea was not blindly devoted to it. She would recognize a good opportunity when it arrived without great cost, and she would take it. He was certain of that.

But watching Nightingale deliver political analysis in her most earnest voice was too entertaining to correct.

A knock at the door broke the moment.

“Come in.”

The door opened on Isabella. Roland had not expected her. She was not a member of the Witch Union and had no ordinary means of entering the Castle District — but Agatha’s figure appeared behind her, and that explained it.

“Your Majesty.” The former Pure Witch of the Church bowed without preamble. “Agatha told me the Church of Hermes is near collapse. Is that accurate?”

The grim set of her expression made it clear she was not here to speak in defense of her former overseers.

“That’s what the intelligence suggests. We’re still confirming the details.” Roland was curious why Agatha had shared the information, but kept his tone vague rather than denying it. “Refugees from the Church have begun appearing in Coldwind Ridge and the western stretch of the Kingdom of Dawn. Their testimony is that the most prominent cathedral in the Holy City collapsed overnight.”

“Your Majesty — I’m asking you to send troops to Hermes as quickly as possible.”

“Why?”

“The Berserk Pills.” A note of impatience entered her voice. “As I mentioned in my earlier intelligence report — there are millions of them stockpiled there. If the church’s hierarchy is collapsing, someone inside will already know where the warehouses are. If that information spreads—” She paused. “These pills will be critical for the Battle of Divine Will. You should have them collected and brought back to Neverwinter before they scatter.”

Roland recalled now — he had almost let it slip from memory entirely. Zero’s plan to unify humanity for a last battle against the Army of Demons had centered on the Berserk Pills as a final card. He had his own contempt for the drugs, which had made it easier to set the matter aside. But the situation had changed, and Isabella was right. If the pills reached nobles in Graycastle or the Kingdom of Dawn, or worse, found their way to the criminal networks of Black Street, the damage to civil order would be real. Individuals dosed on Berserk Pills couldn’t stand against a trained army, but they could certainly destabilize local officials and regional governments.

“Where are they stored?”

“In separate hidden warehouses across the Hermes Plateau. Difficult to describe the locations precisely.” Isabella hesitated before continuing. “If Your Majesty trusts me — let me go with the army. I was the Pope’s ordained executor. That title still carries weight. With it, I may be able to slow the collapse of order, which will matter more than you might think when you’re trying to stem a flood of refugees.”

“And how do we know you won’t use your old identity to do other things?” Nightingale cut in. “You have friends among those believers, don’t you? You might quietly help them.”

“I would not lie to His Majesty.” Isabella met Nightingale’s gaze steadily. “Zero has already revealed who holds the real mandate of heaven. I have no reason to do useless things for people I’ve already left behind. If the army needs another method of keeping order — I can lead believers into an arranged position and they can be eliminated there. That is an alternative to using my former identity, as I said.”

Nightingale produced a sound of pure revulsion and turned away.

Roland felt unsettled. It was not often that Nightingale ran out of words — usually it meant the person she was listening to was being absolutely serious. Isabella had pledged her allegiance on the basis of fighting the demons, and he believed that pledge was genuine. But she had been shaped from childhood by the Church’s doctrine: the lives of ordinary people were acceptable losses as long as the mission was accomplished. That was not something a pardon and a changed situation would simply erase.

He considered for a moment and then spoke carefully.

“You may go with the First Army. You will not intervene in any battle. Your task is to locate the pills and destroy them on the spot.”

Her brows drew together. “Your Majesty, these drugs do place enormous strain on the body, but in a genuine life-and-death—”

“I said what I said.”

She lowered her eyes. “As Your Majesty commands.”

“And as for maintaining order — I have a separate task for you.”

“Your Majesty.”

“There are still cloisters in the old Holy City?”

“Yes. No witches remain in them.” After a moment’s thought, she added, “There may be newly Awakened witches from the last Months of Demons — but the odds of them still being alive are not good.”

“That doesn’t matter.” He met her gaze. “Free the orphans. See to their care. Bring them back to the Western Region. All of them.”

She blinked. “All of them?”

“Every one. You will be in charge of this.”

He had wondered, more than once, what a Pure Witch would do when her assigned task was not elimination but rescue. He could not undo what Isabella had done or thought in the past. But he could give her a different kind of work and watch what it made of her.

“The cloisters are the reason I sent you,” he continued. “You reminded me of something important: when an organization’s upper hierarchy loses the ability to hold order, the places at the bottom — the cloisters — become exactly the sort of environment where the powerless are left to suffer what they can’t prevent. Neverwinter needs workers. There will be jobs for women. The Church began basic education for the orphans, if I recall correctly — so they’ll be literate, trainable, capable of far more than slow starvation behind high walls. I want all of them brought here without exception.”

A silence that stretched.

“That will require considerable food,” Isabella said.

“I’ll have the supply arranged.”

Something moved across her face — something complex, with an edge of bewilderment to it. Roland recognized the expression. He had seen it the day her chains came off, when she was granted limited freedom. It was the expression of someone who could not find the frame that explained the situation, and whose mind kept asking the same question without receiving an answer.

Why?

She bent slowly at the waist and bowed.

“As Your Majesty commands.”

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