CH902 · Rewrite
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Chapter 902: An Ominous Sign

Azima turned away from the scene, jaw set, and said nothing more.

The room was quiet as Doris wept. No one spoke. The only sounds were her ragged breathing and the occasional shuffle of feet on stone. When she had at last cried herself empty and grown still, Scroll’s voice came again—steady, unhurried, as if the whole interval had simply been part of her calculation.

“I believe many of you are in the same situation as she is. You’ve spent years running, never able to make contact with your families. And even if you found a chance to go back, you’d find nothing but ruins.” She looked out over the gathered witches. “This is why we’re asking you to provide your personal information to the City Hall. With it, we can send each of you news about your hometown the moment any of your fellow townspeople arrive in Neverwinter. Among those people may be someone you love.”

“City Hall has already sent staff out to gather refugees from every corner of Graycastle and bring them here. It’s a long process—but word will spread, and more people will come. If you stay, the chance of finding your family grows every week. Of course, if needed, staff can concentrate their search on the areas around your specific hometowns. His Majesty is fully capable of directing that.”

Azima’s eyes came up from the floor and fixed on Scroll. “Are you serious? The palace is willing to help us find our families?”

“If by ‘palace’ you mean City Hall officials, I am also one of those officials.” Scroll spread her hands. “We run this city on a different model than the one you grew up under. If you can pass the examination, even a witch can take part in governing and hold an official post in the kingdom.”

A ripple went through the crowd—murmuring, glances exchanged.

“As for your question: yes.” Scroll continued without pause. “Neverwinter does not intend to stop you from leaving, and it would not try to restrict your freedom. But I have to be honest with you about what leaving would mean right now. The war is not over. Famine is eating through the countryside. Countless towns have been abandoned. Traveling beyond these walls would not only be dangerous—it would almost certainly be futile. His Majesty is leading the army to reunify Graycastle. When he restores order across all four regions, you can go wherever you wish.” She picked up the registration form again, considering it for a moment. “So. Do you still think filling these out is unnecessary?”

This time no witch objected.


On the road back to the castle, Wendy exhaled and shook her head. “You were extraordinary back there, Scroll. I couldn’t find a single word in that moment—but you handled everything. They must think very highly of the Witch Union now.”

“I only used what I had,” Scroll said, with a small smile. “Forty-six witches in the first batch. We’ll be run ragged for the next few days.”

“Well…” Wendy’s voice softened.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to say you’re not suited to this position again.” Scroll stopped walking. “You know His Majesty chose you because—”

“Because I have qualities the others don’t, yes.” Wendy laughed. “You can rest easy. Since the last time I spoke with His Majesty, I’ve made up my mind. I was just thinking about how to welcome the arriving witches properly. Back when we were searching for the holy mountain, I never once considered turning back no matter how harsh the road got. Things are so much better now—if I kept talking nonsense about being unsuitable, I’d truly be unworthy of the Chaos Drinks I borrowed from Nightingale.”

“That’s more like it.” Relief was plain on Scroll’s face. “I’d almost forgotten about those drinks until you mentioned them. I helped you considerably back there—are you not going to buy me one?”

“Tonight? I’ll have the kitchen prepare toasted mushrooms and fish fillets. We can drink in my room, the way we used to. If we run short of Chaos Drinks, we’ll borrow from Nightingale—she’s not in the city at the moment. I’ll make it up to her later.”

“Settled.”

They walked in comfortable silence for a moment before Wendy glanced over. “By the way—do you really remember the personal information of over a hundred thousand residents? All of it? Don’t you get tangled in it?”

“I’m not sure how to describe it.” Scroll was quiet for a moment, choosing her words. “At the beginning, if I wanted to recall something, I had to trace it back through the layers—look up the date a person registered, find the exact page in the registration book. It was slow, and if I pushed too hard I’d get a headache.” She paused. “But over time, the contents of my memory seemed to sort themselves.”

“What does that mean?”

“As if everything were being organized automatically. The moment I start searching for something, all the related material appears at once—not in sequence, but all together, in full detail.” Another pause. “Maybe that’s what practice makes perfect actually feels like.”

“His Majesty once said that a person’s memory is far more powerful than anyone imagines.” Wendy shook her head slowly. “I didn’t quite believe him at the time. I believe him now.”

“It’s a wonderful feeling.” Scroll nodded. “Now, whenever I reach into my own mind, I feel almost omniscient. Though I’m not sure whether I’ll still be able to hold everything once His Majesty unifies Graycastle and extends his administrative system to all the domains.”

Wendy turned that image over in her mind—Scroll, standing still somewhere, while the whole kingdom’s history flowed through her in a single quiet current. If she can still hold everything then, all the people’s lives will be kept inside her. She’ll be history itself.

She was about to say so aloud when rapid footsteps sounded behind them.

“Lady Wendy, I finally found you.” A young City Hall clerk bowed, slightly breathless. “There’s a man at the hall who won’t leave. He insists on speaking directly with the head of the Witch Union. We told him we’d pass on his message, but he says he must tell you himself, face to face.”

“What’s the matter? What’s his name?” Scroll’s brows drew together.

“Posack. He says he found a girl covered in blood while tending his cattle. He believes she’s a witch—but the girl is unconscious and can’t answer questions. We checked the day’s work orders and found no witch scheduled to be outside the city.” The clerk shifted. “We thought he must be mistaken.”

“Posack.” Scroll said the name once. “He’s a local man with a clean record—one of the first students in the agriculture course. He’s not the type to come looking for trouble.” She frowned. “Could the witch be Leaf?”

“Impossible.” Wendy shook her head immediately. Roland had decreed that all newly acquired domains were to be seeded with Golden Twos this year, and he had asked Leaf to remain in the Misty Forest cultivating the seeds instead of marching with the First Army. “Under the protection of the Heart of Forest, no one can harm her. And if any enemy had broken into the region she controls, the workers carrying seeds and the border guards on Neverwinter’s northern side would have sounded an alarm long before now.”

“Then he must be mistaken?”

“Either way, we should meet the man. Even if she’s not a witch, a girl that badly injured still needs help.” Wendy said it steadily—but something had lodged in her chest, small and cold, the moment Posack’s description crossed her mind.

Am I forgetting something?

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