Rewrite That Witch
CH905 · Rewrite
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Chapter 905: Battle Alert (Second Half)

By His Majesty Roland’s design, four organizations formed the administrative backbone of Graycastle: the City Hall, the Security Bureau, the First Army, and the Witch Union. Three of those four required mutual consent before acting. The Security Bureau alone was exempt.

When Roland was present, the system held. When he was absent, consent became negotiation, negotiation became delay, and delay was a thing Neverwinter could not always afford. Wendy had understood this the moment she heard demons are coming. She had sounded the alarm and asked forgiveness afterward.

She knew the cost. The Misty Forest yielded hundreds of bags of Golden Two seed wheat every day, and every one of those bags needed workers to carry it to the docks — workers who could not leave the city now. Timber, mushrooms, and forest fruit were similarly stranded. The grassland livestock operations had stalled. Barov’s fury was not irrational; it had exact weight, measured in trade routes and supply ships and the promises made to the Northern Region and Southern Territory both.

And then there was the wall. The plan had been to complete a new outer wall before the third Battle of Divine Will — a wall that would ring the northern quarter of the city and bring the grassland pastures within the defense perimeter, layering it against the Impassable Mountain Range so that the ore smelting yards and the factory district would not be severed from the North Slope Mine when battle came. That plan was still a plan. No one had expected news to arrive so quickly.

Compared to the losses, Wendy still thought she had been right to act.

“Are the demons not a good enough reason, mortal?” The curtains along the conference room walls shifted — and no window was open. El’s voice did not enter through the ears; it arrived behind them, inside the bone, like pressure before a storm. “You cannot afford complacency when dealing with them. They are not demonic beasts. They will not wait for you to finish your preparations before attacking.” A pause, heavy as weather. “I did not expect you to understand. But after witnessing your King’s brilliance, I had thought the common people of this age had made more progress than this.”

The Taquila survivors and the Sleeping Spell witches attended by right — allies in the coming battle, with a standing that no administrative procedure could override. Their images hovered in the light curtain at the room’s far wall, faintly luminous, as though the light itself remembered them from somewhere older. Both Pasha and Tilly had already expressed agreement with Wendy’s decision. El’s endorsement, however pointed, was one more.

Barov’s face had passed through fury and arrived somewhere past it — that particular stillness that preceded a man deciding to laugh rather than shout. “Granted,” he said, teeth not quite unclenched. “I have not seen a demon. I do not know the specifics of their terror. But can they drop from empty sky into a city that has clear sightlines in every direction? To the west, the Misty Forest, which your witches control. To the east, watchtowers on the Impassable Mountain Range. Between them — flat, open grassland, bare as a parade ground. Nothing moves on that plain without being seen from the walls.” He spread his hands. “Are we not already cautious enough?”

Wendy remembered: at the last meeting, Barov had barely breathed in the original carrier’s presence. He had held himself so still he looked carved. Now he rebutted El without hesitation, the sarcasm not even bothering to conceal itself. Whatever transformation His Majesty’s work had wrought in the man, it had given him this — a floor to stand on.

“I think the alarm was necessary,” said Ashes. Her voice was level — not calming, just precise. “In fact, I was the one who first suggested it to Wendy.”

“And your reason?” Barov’s palm came down flat on the table — not quite a slam, but close. “Another half-asleep witch muttering from who knows where? If her words can be trusted — if your relationship with this woman is so solid — why isn’t she in the Witch Union yet?”

“That has nothing to do with it.” Ashes did not shift in her seat. “I assessed the facts. I have fought alongside Lorgar. I know her capability. If she’d encountered one or two hybrid demonic beasts, she would not have been reduced to that condition — she would have shed her human form and outrun them. A Mad Demon without Demon Stone support is roughly a match for a demonic hybrid; that alone wouldn’t have stopped her.” She let that land. “She ran into more than ten demons. And there was at least one flying Devilbeast tracking her from above — that’s what prevented the escape.”

“What exactly—”

“There’s more.” Ashes continued without haste. “We found a map on her. The characters were written by Lightning. We don’t know the details of her journey, but one thing is clear: she went into the wasteland after leaving Neverwinter. If that many demons are now present in the Barbarian Land, we should take that seriously.”

“I share that assessment.” Pasha’s voice was softer than El’s — not gentle exactly, but measured, without the edge. “Distance is nothing to a Devilbeast. If they chose to strike Neverwinter directly, the warning from the watchtowers might still be traveling when they are already overhead.”

“And most people in this city have never seen a demon.” Tilly’s voice was measured — not the urgency of a commander but the precision of someone who had already reached the conclusion before entering the room. “Drop one Devilbeast into an unprepared street and you lose the city to its own fear before any battle begins. The alarm is not a cost. It is the cheapest intervention available.”

Barov opened his mouth, then did not speak.

He turned instead to the head of the First Army’s garrison — a quiet, middle-aged hunter who had served in this position without seeking attention. The man stared straight ahead, offering nothing, as though the argument occurring around him were weather he had decided to wait out.

Wendy took a breath and stood. “I’ve already sent word to His Majesty in the Northern Region. He’ll be informed of the situation and should issue countermeasures soon. Lorgar could also wake at any moment — once we have a clearer picture, we can lift the martial law immediately.” She looked at Barov steadily. “As for His Majesty’s assigned tasks — there are ways to make up the ground.”

“Such as?”

“The devouring worm.” She glanced toward the light curtain — the faint luminous shapes of the Taquila survivors watching, patient, from the other side of whatever distance separated them. “It could transport the wheat. Workers would carry grain only as far as the Third Border City — inside the perimeter, on safe ground. The transport ships can still be loaded.”

“We are soldiers.” El’s displeasure was immediate. “Not freight carriers.”

“But we are allies.” Pasha’s tentacles reached — slowly, deliberately — and curled around El’s form. El had no visible mouth, and yet the gesture landed as though it closed one. “This is something we can do.”

Wendy nodded her thanks. “The livestock can be moved the same way. And since Honey can manage the animals, there’s no concern about them being frightened by Fran. The Western Region has sufficient grassland, and the land along the Redwater River’s shores will serve as temporary pasture.”

The furrow between Barov’s brows had not disappeared, but it had eased — a small concession from a man who did not make them easily.

“I know these measures can’t erase the damage entirely.” The table was cold wood under her fingertips as she stood — she noticed that now, the grain of it, the solidity. She had spent too long being the kind of person who softened rooms. That was not what was needed here. “Neverwinter’s safety is our first concern. If any loss results from this decision, I will take full responsibility.”

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