CH849 · Rewrite
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Chapter 849: The King’s Orders

When Edith returned to her rooms, she took off her coat and dropped it onto the hanger by the door without looking.

The smell hit her immediately — rich, savory, rising from the living room in a wave that made her dry mouth flood with saliva. She had not noticed any hunger during the meeting at the Ministry of Defense. Her stomach informed her now that it had been waiting very patiently.

“This late?” Cole’s head appeared around the doorframe. He was holding a spoon.

“The war is approaching. More work, naturally, and the Kingdom of Dawn is adding complications.” She pulled off her leather boots and exchanged them for soft house socks before stepping into the room. “If I’m late again next time, don’t wait — start without me.”

“I don’t mind.” He waved the spoon. “But — hasn’t His Majesty still not decided what to do about the King of Dawn? If he goes with Barov’s approach, won’t everything you’ve been planning turn out to be a waste?”

“Do you genuinely believe he has no ideas of his own?” She patted her younger brother on the head as she walked past him toward the table. “Roland Wimbledon is not the kind of king who simply adopts his subordinates’ positions.”

“What have you found out this time?”

“I could tell you,” she said, taking her seat, “but then I might have to kill you.”

A single glance was enough. He subsided and did not press further.

The table held two dishes and a soup, all built around the same base: Bird Beak Mushrooms, Neverwinter’s local specialty. Recently — whether because more hunters were foraging them or because a new source had opened up — the market had been flooded with unusually fresh, firm specimens at a lower price than usual. They were beginning to outsell meat products. Their one limitation was perishability: the plumpness that made them so flavorful was impossible to preserve for transport, or they could have commanded strong prices across the whole kingdom.

Edith set a grilled mushroom cap between her teeth. The char on the outside, the butter melting into the gills, the burst of juice when it gave way — she let out an involuntary sound of satisfaction.

She had been underestimating her brother all along.

He was not useful with a sword, and his character had a certain indecisiveness that she had catalogued and taken into account. But his capacity for learning consistently exceeded her expectations. He had tasted these mushrooms once or twice at the Lord’s castle banquets and reproduced the result at home; the texture and flavor were nearly identical to what had been served there. That was not the kind of thing an ordinary mind did. It applied to his clerical work as well. Several months in and he was already serving as official scribe at important meetings held in the castle — a speed of advancement that would have impressed the self-proclaimed prodigies among the young Northern Region nobles.

Most importantly, he did what she said.

That counted for a great deal. The greater the competence of the people in her charge, the more easily certain things got done.

“Sis.” Cole waited until she was halfway through the mushroom soup before he tried again. “Why have you been quiet for the past three meetings?”

She set down her spoon and raised her eyebrows.

“The questions His Majesty was working through were all in your area,” he pressed. “You could read what he intended. Why let Barov run the room?”

“This is also a secret.” Her voice had an edge.

“Right.” Cole lowered his head. He strained visibly against his own curiosity for a moment, then gave it up, shaking his head with the expression of a man pushing something unpleasant into a drawer.

“However — in light of this excellent dinner, I’ll consider it paid for.” She allowed herself a small smile. “How much do you know about Andrea of the Witch Union?”

He thought. “Her name doesn’t appear on any of the scheduled plans. Her ability is… middling.”

“Her ability is irrelevant.” She cut him off. “It’s not unusual that you know little about her — she’s a combat witch, rarely in public, and her background isn’t widely circulated. What I’ve gathered: she’s a noble from the Kingdom of Dawn, from a family of considerable standing. An old friend of Otto Luoxi’s.” She let that sit for a moment. “You can infer the rest.”

She offered a brief sketch of her own analysis, then watched the understanding settle across his face.

“Do you see now why I said nothing in those meetings? Had I made the favoritism visible, certain outcomes that were possible would have become impossible. His Majesty might even have held me responsible for the interference.” She picked up her soup bowl. “I simply waited.”

Cole’s eyes had gone wide. “How did you know all of this?”

“Did you truly believe I went to the Great Snow Mountain purely to back up the principle that ‘only those with frontline service should hold key positions’?” She shrugged. “That was one reason among several. Had I not made that trip, I would not have been close enough to the witches to learn anything worth knowing.”

He knotted his brows and worked through it. “Even so — even if your information was accurate, how could you be certain His Majesty would choose Andrea as the solution to the Dawn problem? There’s no necessary connection. He might have decided to conquer the kingdom outright and organize an enthronement ceremony.”

“No necessary connection, true. But His Majesty’s behavior during those three days makes it very difficult to believe otherwise.” She answered without hesitation. “Over three days of meetings, he glanced toward Andrea exactly seventeen times. She is not a City Hall official. She is not a decision-maker. Unless they are conducting an affair, the only other explanation is that she is the key variable in whatever plan he has not yet announced.”

“You… counted.”

She demonstrated: she lifted her soup bowl and assumed her meeting posture. “From this angle, I can observe His Majesty with the corners of my eyes. He certainly did not expect that while he was watching Andrea, someone else was watching him.”

Cole’s expression became peculiar. He muttered something.

“What was that?”

“Nothing — nothing at all.” He shook his hands in rapid denial. “But — when you spoke to Andrea after one of the meetings, briefly, was that part of the same plan? What if you were wrong?”

“Ah.” She arched an eyebrow. “You noticed that.”

“I came to ask when you’d be home. You were only with her for a moment.”

“I didn’t need to lay out my entire calculation. It was a matter of favoritism, so all I needed to do was give her a gentle push.” Edith’s tone was cool, perfectly even. “I told her: ‘His Majesty is a very benevolent king, and he has met Sir Otto briefly before. If you speak up, he will almost certainly agree to save him.’ If my guess was correct, I had helped His Majesty along and served his intentions. If I was wrong—” She paused, and finished the sentence without any particular feeling: “Who actually cares whether the nobles of the Kingdom of Dawn live or die?”


The next morning, the routine meeting lasted half its usual duration.

Roland Wimbledon, who had sat in silence for three days, announced his decision at the outset — he had heard enough. The First Army would divide into two columns: the first would enter the Hermes Plateau through Coldwind Ridge; the second would cut directly through the Eastern Region toward the Kingdom of Dawn’s border. The objective was for both columns to link up at the City of Glow by early autumn.

After he spoke, the arguments stopped. Even Barov, who had been leading the conservative camp without pause for three days, bowed in acceptance as though he had never held any other position.

The entire Western Region stirred into motion like a city waking to a bell.

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