CH865 · Rewrite
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Chapter 865: Mind Reading

“Wh—at?”

George blinked. For a moment he was not sure his ears had worked correctly.

He turned to look at Guye beside him and found the earl’s face a mirror of his own—pure, unguarded bewilderment. Around the hall, the assembled nobles wore variations of the same expression. The room had gone still enough that he could hear the lake shifting under the building’s pilings.

This had not been part of the plan.

Did Roland somehow persuade Earl Delta in advance?

He glanced at the Lord of Redwater City. Delta was no calmer than anyone else—his eyes wide, his jaw slightly open, staring at the new king with the expression of a man who had been handed someone else’s catastrophe. Whatever Roland had announced, Delta had not been warned of it. The banquet in the Lakeside Villa had been, for Earl Delta, routine hospitality. For the rest of them, the same.

This was Roland acting alone.

Is he mad?

“I think most of you have observed that the feudal system has severely obstructed the flow and specialization of personnel,” Roland continued, as if speaking to an audience of one who already agreed with him. “This has, in turn, restricted the growth of our nation’s productive capacity. Given that Graycastle—and indeed the entire human race—may soon face a crisis of considerable magnitude, I have made this difficult decision: I am reclaiming all the land and authority currently in your hands, so that the people of Graycastle may work as one body.”

Specialization of personnel. Productive capacity. Crisis. George’s mind processed the words and found nothing to grip. What does any of that mean in a hall full of nobles?

Roland didn’t appear concerned about their opinions. He kept speaking as though alone in a room. “The Western and Northern regions are proof of what I am telling you. The disappearance of the feudal nobility in those regions produced not chaos but order. Unified decree, unified planning, unified policy deployment have driven cities into what I would call an industrial age—large factories have displaced the household workshop as the primary engine of production. Wealth has been created in quantities that would not have been possible under the old arrangement, and the people who participated actively have benefited greatly. These are facts. I believe you have seen evidence of them yourselves.”

He paused.

“I do not mean to eliminate the noble class entirely. Losing your manor and your hereditary title does not mean losing everything. Consider: a cake the size of your palm might satisfy one man’s hunger, barely. But if you could make that cake the size of a table, even a single slice would be more than enough. The reform I am proposing benefits not only you but your subjects. Many of you have heard of it, I think?”

George had recovered his composure by now. The initial shock had cleared, and what replaced it surprised him: this might be useful. Reaching a consensus among the assembled nobles in advance had always been the difficult part of his plan. Roland had just done the work for him—he had united the room against himself. George could see it in the way the nobles were watching each other, the way shoulders had stiffened and hands had tightened on wineglasses.

“Your Majesty—I am not familiar with conditions in the Western or Northern regions. Might Your Majesty allow me a few days to consider?”

“This decision would determine my family’s fate. I cannot answer alone.”

“Can you guarantee that each of us will receive more wealth than we have now?”

“What if the reform fails? If we surrender our lands and the reform collapses, haven’t we lost even the small cake we had?”

“Your policy may be wise, but I am not a merchant, Your Majesty—”

“Yes,” George thought with quiet satisfaction. Keep asking. Every question you throw at him makes me look more clear-sighted by comparison.

Roland’s expression did not change. He let the questions accumulate, then raised one hand.

The hall went quiet.

“You seem to be under a misapprehension,” he said. His tone had altered—still unhurried, but with something colder in it now. “What I said was not a suggestion. It was an order. You do not, in fact, have any say in this matter.” He looked around the room. “I already know who will join me in the progress ahead, and who will plant themselves in the road like stones and be ground to dust.”

Earl Delta said, startled: “How—how do you know that?”

A smile moved across Roland’s face. “Because I can read minds.”

Silence.

“What did you—”

“Skepticism is normal when confronted with something beyond your experience.” Roland turned and made a small gesture toward Edith. “Allow me to demonstrate.”

The Pearl of the Northern Region inclined her head. She looked across the assembled nobles with an expression of pleasant authority. “His Majesty’s ability can be verified simply. All you need to do is repeat the words I say aloud, and you will understand immediately—no lie can pass undetected under His Majesty’s mind-reading. The Wimbledon rule of Graycastle depends on mastery of this ability. Anyone who does not repeat after me will be considered among those stones in the road.”

Complete nonsense, George thought with considerable energy. There is no such thing as mind-reading. If a witch had claimed it, it might at least carry some weight. This is theater.

He wanted to call out to the other nobles, to name the farce for what it was—but he found when he looked around that many of them seemed inclined to try. Whether they were waiting for Roland to embarrass himself, or genuinely afraid of seeming to refuse, he couldn’t be certain. Either way, they were going to participate.

Edith smiled. “Please listen carefully. The first sentence is: I completely agree with His Majesty’s new policy, and I am willing to cooperate with the officials dispatched from Neverwinter.

The nobles repeated it—most of them carelessly, a few unable to suppress a laugh at the absurdity of the exercise.

“None of you is telling the truth,” Roland said.

The room paused.

“Though that is somewhat disappointing, it is understandable. If I were you, I probably would not easily trust a king who spent years at the kingdom’s border. Please continue.”

Something is wrong. George frowned. Any king who had just been told to his face that none of his assembled nobles believed him would be embarrassed—or furious. Roland was neither. He looked almost pleased. His equanimity was too steady, his calm too specific.

“The second sentence,” Edith said, with the bright energy of someone who has been waiting to perform: “Although I do not fully understand what His Majesty intends, feudal power is not something I cannot live without. I am willing to cooperate if the opportunities for greater wealth exist.” She glanced over the room. “Please repeat after me, word for word. Speak clearly.”

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