Rewrite That Witch
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Chapter 885: The Unlucky Tradesman

Tangen considered himself a man of extraordinary misfortune.

He was, in every respect, ordinary — a tradesman who worked the road between the City of Evernight and Hermes, carrying furs and flannels from Graycastle to the church, bringing back amulets and holy-water sculptures on the return. It had taken him nearly ten years to build anything resembling a stable position in that trade, to survive the grinding competition among his peers and come out the other side with something to show for it.

When he finally had capital to spare, he decided to expand. He purchased a residence with an attached warehouse on the outskirts of the New Holy City — a foothold, a place to stockpile inventory for the next push.

Then the north collapsed.

The conflict between the new king of Graycastle and the church had broken out in earnest, and demand for tokens of faith — the amulets, the sculptures — had evaporated almost overnight. He sold at a loss of twenty percent and considered himself fortunate to have sold at all.

Furs, though. Furs he could still move.

As tensions between king and church intensified, the price of furs had actually risen. Standing in the Holy City with a warehouse full of product, Tangen had felt quietly confident. He had spent years in this place; he knew what its walls looked like from close range. Even the finest knight in the kingdom would not want to face a Judgement Warrior in the open. The church would hold. The church would win.

It did not win.

It lost, and the loss was complete. Afterward, nobody bought anything, not at thirty percent below market, not at any price. It was only once the Holy City descended into actual chaos — his inventory stolen in the confusion — that Tangen finally accepted what he had been refusing to see: the Holy City was no longer safe.

He had sensed it since the cathedral fell. He had stayed anyway, unable to walk away from everything he had built there. The Kingdom of Dawn’s army arriving at the foot of Mount Hermes was the last argument he had no answer to. Those soldiers had come for the wealth the church had accumulated over centuries; Tangen had no doubt they would take his furs, and probably his life as well, if he lingered long enough to be found.

So he had gone.

He joined the stream of merchants heading south, and through considerable toil they arrived in Graycastle a few days later. The garrison troops at the border treated them reasonably — a few questions, simple enough, and then a campground set aside for refugees. A fleet sent by the Duke of the Northern Region would carry them back to the city in two days.

His life’s work was gone. But his life was not.

His rival, the miserly Socas, had died on the road. Tangen was alive, and his wife and children were waiting for him in the City of Evernight. Thinking of it that way, all his misfortunes seemed somehow finite. He had almost convinced himself they were finished.

Then two soldiers came to the campground and asked for him by name.

He tried to bribe them for information with a few silver royals. They declined.

They want to strip the last of it while I have nothing left to resist with.

Tangen clutched his money pouch to his chest as he walked between them. This was the remainder — if he lost it, there was no surviving. He was also too frightened to refuse. The army that had crushed the church was not an army he wanted to antagonize. If he made these soldiers angry, whatever followed would probably be worse than poverty.

He walked in silent lamentation. Why me? Of everyone in that campground, why did they come for me? Is this the gods punishing me for dumping the unsellable amulets into the drainage ditch?

He was still composing his private elegy when the deputy battalion commander’s question finally reached him.

“Wh-what pathway?”

The commander did not raise his voice. He repeated the question with the patience of a man who has decided to be patient. “One of my soldiers told me you know a route that bypasses the New Holy City and reaches the foot of Mount Hermes directly. Is that true?”

“The route you mentioned yourself,” another voice added. “You said certain tradesmen use it to move goods without paying church taxes. You said you’d made the crossing a few times with them.”

Tangen’s eyes went sideways to find the speaker.

It was the young soldier he’d spoken to on the road. Nail. A pleasant enough face — Tangen had chatted with him to pass the time, and somewhere in the conversation had mentioned the tax-evasion route, the way you mention things when you’re trying to seem interesting and well-connected and don’t expect it to matter.

He had not expected it to matter.

There was no point in regretting that now.

“There is a pathway,” Tangen said carefully. “The locals call it Cloud Ladder. But it only appears after the snow melts, and rain or fog closes it. I’ve heard the route branches at certain points — but I only know the approach toward the Kingdom of Dawn.”

“Very well.” The commander nodded. “You’ll show my men the way. If they reach the foot of Mount Hermes successfully, you’ll be rewarded for your service.”

“Please, sir!” Tangen went to his knees. “I don’t want a reward. I just want to go home when it’s finished.”

“That won’t be possible.” The commander’s voice was measured. “To ensure this goes smoothly, you’ll remain with us until we no longer need you.”

“But, sir—”

The commander tossed something across the table. Five gold royals landed in front of Tangen’s knees.

“That’s the advance. Another five when the mission is complete.” He didn’t wait for a response. “You know what ten gold royals can buy in most parts of Graycastle.”

Tangen swallowed.

Ten gold royals could buy a life, as the saying went. His entire cash reserve, accumulated through years of trading, ran to barely thirty. The commander had just offered him a third of his net worth to be a guide — which meant the commander had already priced the negotiation and found the floor. There was no room to argue.

“Will you… actually let me go? After?” Tangen already knew the answer but heard himself ask.

“Of course. Do your work honestly and I’ll see you escorted to the City of Evernight personally.”

He was delivered to his two traveling companions outside the tent.

The young soldier Nail. And the older man, Uncle Sang.

“You really put me in a difficult position,” Tangen said, offering a dry smile. He could see from both their faces that this was coincidence rather than calculation; they hadn’t set out to ruin him, they had simply told the truth.

“You can’t honestly think that’s unfortunate.” Nail frowned. “Ten gold royals is not a small sum. As long as you act in good faith, you won’t be in any danger.”

“Our commander is a man of his word,” Uncle Sang added. “If he says you walk free afterward, you walk free. And honestly — ten gold royals to show the way? I’d volunteer for that.”

“Sir, you’re very—”

“Uncle Sang. No formality needed. If you want to use a title, use it on Nail. He’s the unit leader. My superior, technically.”

“R-really?” Tangen looked at the young man again, slightly embarrassed. He had taken Nail for a common soldier.

“Just Nail.” The young man waved it off.

“Could either of you tell me what this mission actually involves?”

“We go around the Hermes Plateau,” Nail said, “and block the Kingdom of Dawn’s army before they enter the old Holy City.”

“Unit leader.” Uncle Sang cleared his throat meaningfully.

“It’s fine. He’ll be with us for the next few days. And a man who knows roughly what he’s doing makes a better guide than one stumbling around in the dark. Besides—” Nail gave him a level look “—I’ll shoot him myself if he does anything suspicious.”

Tangen felt the ground shift slightly under him, but his attention had snagged on the first part.

Block the Kingdom of Dawn’s army.

“That’s — that’s impossible.” His eyes went wide. “Cloud Ladder is barely wide enough for two men to walk abreast, and some sections have collapsed. One wrong step and you go over the edge. If you march from dawn to dusk without rest you can move a few hundred people in a week — and you want to fight armored knights with a few hundred people? Not to mention the church will be right behind you.”

“We’re not going alone,” Nail said. He sounded untroubled. “His Majesty’s reinforcements are already arriving at Coldwind Ridge. You’ll see soon enough how the First Army fights.”

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