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Chapter 912: An Idealist (I)

“Dealing with the King of Dawn was never the real problem.” Roland looked directly at Andrea. “The real problem is maintaining order in the Kingdom of Dawn afterward. We don’t want another Moya — or anyone who favors the royal family — as the next sovereign. Which means someone else has to step into the wreckage once Appen falls. The three families will have to do it themselves.”

Someone had to clean up the mess. His reputation alone — the King of Graycastle, the First Army, the impregnable wall of Wimbledon — was enough to make every noble in the Kingdom of Dawn assume that whichever man stood at the end of it was his puppet. Earl Quinn could become regent, and the moment he did, the nobles would see a marionette and start pulling at each other over who got to cut the strings.

Under the new plan, direct intervention from Graycastle became impossible. The God’s Punishment Witches had no political affiliation. If Roland moved them, the operation had to be conducted in the name of the three families — otherwise what he was proposing was not a coup but an assassination, and those were different documents entirely.

The Quinn family would absorb both the risk and the reward. The risk: they became the target of every grievance the Kingdom of Dawn had accumulated. The reward: if Earl Quinn could hold the City of Glow, he had a clear path from regent to king. Given his qualities and his influence, that was not an unreasonable bet. On balance, the trade favored him considerably.

Andrea was quiet for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was careful. “But then you’ll gain very little from this.”

“Better than Appen continuing to scheme against me.” Roland did not confirm or deny the rest of it. “And as I said in the meeting — I don’t abandon people who’ve contributed to Graycastle.”

The anxious look softened. In its place came something Roland rarely saw from her: simple gratitude, undisguised. “Miss Edith was right. You really are a kind king.”

“I — what?” He blinked. “Edith Kant? What did she say?”

“She predicted, before we marched, that you would find a way to save Lord Otto.” Andrea’s composure held, though a faint warmth moved through it. “I don’t think I would have decided so quickly without the Pearl of the Northern Region’s advice.”

Really.

Roland kept his expression entirely neutral. He nodded once, slowly, in the manner of a man who hears unsurprising news and finds it unsurprising. “Since you’ve made up your mind, I’ll write to Earl Quinn — the operational procedure, the terms of the alliance with Graycastle, all of it. I want his consent documented, not just assumed. And I need you to go to the City of Glow with the God’s Punishment Witches to ensure the procedure is followed.” He paused. “I trust you, not your father. I’m asking you to hold a little longer. Once it’s resolved, you can return to Neverwinter with the witches.”

Andrea lifted her skirt and dipped into a curtsy. “I cannot turn you down after everything you’ve done. I also have a letter for Princess Tilly — I hope you can forward it to her.”

“Naturally.”

After she left, Nightingale materialized from the air at Roland’s shoulder, her voice carrying that particular flatness she used when she was genuinely puzzled. “What exactly is she doing?”

“You mean Edith?” Roland rubbed his chin. “They must have talked before the campaign. Both of them were at the pre-operation meeting. Is it so hard to believe she’d think well of me?”

“I don’t think she’d say anything good about you even if you were the best man who ever lived.” Nightingale shrugged. “She doesn’t seem like the sort of person who discusses kindness.”

He was about to respond when the tent curtain lifted.

“Your Majesty.” The guard’s voice was correct, formal. “Lady Edith Kant requests an audience.”

Roland and Nightingale exchanged a look.

Well.

“Send her in.”

The Pearl of the Northern Region entered without ceremony, performed a bow of the precise minimum depth that courtesy required, and spoke before the bow was fully complete. “Your Majesty. I want you to reconsider your plan and withdraw from the affairs of the Kingdom of Dawn.”

Roland’s brows drew together. “You should have raised that during the meeting. I’ve already decided. Reversing course now reflects poorly on the crown.”

“That’s why I came to you after the meeting.” Edith’s voice was unhurried, each syllable placed with the care of someone who has rehearsed and discarded multiple approaches and settled on the direct one. “You can still carry out your plan with small adjustments. People will attribute the deviation to unforeseen circumstances. You will keep your word in the way that matters — the public version — and still have room to maneuver.”

Nightingale stepped into visibility. Her voice had an edge in it. “What exactly are you plotting? You advised Andrea to ask His Majesty for help. Now you want him to stop interfering. Don’t tell me there’s no scheme here.”

Most people, caught in that contradiction, would at least have the good grace to flinch. Edith simply regarded Nightingale with the calm of someone who had expected the question and prepared her answer long before walking through the door. “The situation has changed. You can detect lies. So you already know I’m telling the truth.”

“State your reason,” Roland said.

Edith drew herself up slightly. “Your original plan — the pincer attack, the unstoppable advance — would have made your name known across the Kingdom of Dawn. Even with Earl Quinn as regent, every civilian would understand who the real power was. After the demons were no longer a threat, you could have extended your influence gradually, convert the Kingdom of Dawn territory by territory. The First Army’s reputation alone would have accomplished this with almost no resistance.” She paused. “That advantage is gone.”

“The army entering the city and Earl Quinn staging a coup are two entirely different stories,” she continued. “The coup substantially increases the earl’s authority in the region. Whether other nobles submit to his rule or begin plotting against him — that becomes his problem, not yours.”

“And we just let Appen Moya continue conspiring against Graycastle?” Nightingale pressed.

“Even without intervention, it would be difficult for Appen to hold his throne. He can no longer call his bannermen — his authority was called into question after the battle in the old Holy City. The Kingdom of Dawn is already sliding toward chaos.” Edith’s tone was perfectly flat, as though she were reading figures from a ledger. “During that chaos, Earl Quinn still has a chance to win. But his influence will be limited. And if Otto Luoxi is fortunate, he may survive. If he doesn’t — well, it won’t be your fault, Your Majesty.” The slight stress on the last phrase was precise, deliberate. “Andrea understands this. That’s why she mentioned you would gain little from the new plan.”

Andrea had seen it. Roland had seen it too. He had weighed it and made his choice knowing what he was weighing.

The thing was: he did not care about that particular ledger. What he cared about was a reliable ally — and when those were scarce, you did not burn them for short-term arithmetic. The Battle of Divine Will would eventually dissolve every misunderstanding between the kingdoms. When the enemy was the extinction of the human race, the question of who owed what to whom became a secondary concern.

Edith was not a shortsighted person. She knew all of this. Which made her insistence puzzling — unless something else was driving it.

Roland looked at her steadily.

If she was letting the appetite for power obscure the larger calculation, he would be genuinely disappointed.

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