CH948 · Rewrite
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Chapter 948: Unexpected Punishment

“Your Majesty, I—”

Iron Axe stopped. The hesitation in itself was unusual — the man was constitutionally direct, almost to a fault. Roland had asked the question casually, something he’d been mildly curious about, but now he found himself paying genuine attention. The charge, if he were making one, was nothing that fell outside the bounds of Iron Axe’s authority in the field. And yet the commander-in-chief was plainly uncertain about something.

He waited, leaning back in his chair.

After a long moment, Iron Axe went to one knee. “No, Your Majesty. It was Miss Edith who planned the elimination of the enemy’s nobles. I carried the plan out. The responsibility is mine.”

“Edith.” Roland sat with that for a moment. “Was the Adviser Department involved?”

He hadn’t seen anything in the submitted proposals about this. Which would explain the hesitation — and what was underneath it.

In any standard military structure of this era, strategic planning was the lord’s domain or his designated commander’s domain. Outside interference — especially from a civilian advisory body — was exactly the kind of thing that got people executed in other courts. Iron Axe had not wanted to name Edith. He hadn’t wanted to lie, either. Hence the silence, the kneel, the careful shouldering of something that wasn’t his to carry.

“You managed the Eastern Front operations well by every measure,” Roland said. “The City Hall will determine your recognition from the battle outcomes. You’re dismissed.”

Iron Axe looked up. “Your Majesty — you won’t punish me?”

Roland genuinely couldn’t help the laugh. “For what? What exactly did you do wrong?”

“I—” Iron Axe seemed to be searching for the answer he’d prepared and finding it didn’t fit. ”…I’m not sure.”

“Your orders were to pacify the Eastern Region and bring those cities under Graycastle’s rule. You were entitled to use your judgment in the field.” Roland kept his tone even — not lecturing, just clear. “If two of your soldiers were arguing strategy in the barracks and you decided their idea was worth trying, would I need to punish you and both of them? Edith is a member of the Adviser Department. It’s normal for people in her position to think about strategy.”

Iron Axe raised his head fully. “Then neither of us did anything wrong?”

“I didn’t say that.” Roland shrugged. “Your being fine doesn’t necessarily mean Edith is fine. But that’s a separate matter. Go rest.”

Iron Axe opened his mouth, seemed to reconsider, and obeyed. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Once the door closed, Roland picked up the telephone and put through a call to the City Hall. “Tell Edith Kant to come to the castle.”

She arrived inside ten minutes.

“Your Majesty.” She spoke before he invited her to. “This matter is my responsibility. Whatever punishment you impose, I accept.”

He looked at her with mild interest. “I haven’t said anything yet and you’re already certain what this is about?”

“When the Eastern Front Army returned, the first person you’d summon would be Iron Axe. If he hadn’t informed you of the burning of the nobles, you wouldn’t have called for me this quickly.”

It’s always easier with the sharp ones. “Then you already knew this conversation was coming.”

“Yes.”

“From the beginning, it was you who initiated this — having Iron Axe arrange it isn’t his style. He wouldn’t construct a scenario like that without external input.” He picked up his tea and let a brief pause land. “But you feel you’re responsible. So: where is the problem, in your view?”

“I met with the First Army commander in an unofficial capacity without seeking your approval—”

“Wrong.” He cut her off cleanly. “Your problem is that you violated the Adviser Department’s protocols. Any battle plan must be submitted on paper to me for review before execution.”

She hadn’t expected that. A slight widening of the eyes — genuine surprise, not performed. “Your Majesty?”

“Is that not so?”

“But—” She chose her words with care. “This operation was carried out in Your Majesty’s name. Wouldn’t the other officials interpret this as something you did?”

“They would. Is that a problem?”

Edith’s composure flickered — the briefly puzzled look of someone who has run their calculations several times and keeps arriving at the same answer, only to find the answer leads somewhere unexpected. “Perhaps. Noble executions — even of declared rebels — could cause unease among the other nobility. Your reputation with them—”

“And if I’m not in a position to absorb the fallout,” Roland said, “do you believe you are?”

She went quiet.

“Relax. That’s not really the point.” He set the cup down. “Let me ask you directly: do you think it’s appropriate for a king to offer up a subordinate when things go wrong?”

”…Scapegoat them?”

“That’s what it amounts to. This action was taken in Graycastle’s name. If I were the kind of man to endorse that and then let you take death or disgrace for it — what message does that send to every official who serves me? Would they work freely, or would they work carefully, always measuring how much exposure they could survive?”

Edith was still.

“The reason I review the Adviser Department’s final plans,” Roland continued, “is to know what I’m endorsing before it happens, not to discover after the fact that something was done in my name without my awareness. That’s the process. That’s why it exists.” He took another sip of tea. “You violated it. Because of that, your contribution to the double offensive won’t count toward your advancement — which it otherwise would have.”

After a long moment, Edith nodded. “I was too presumptuous.”

“This matter is closed. Go.”

She bowed, precise and still, and left.


“So all that work — for nothing?” Cole Kant set the plate of honey-glazed mushrooms on the table with the cautious care of a man navigating a conversation he already knows will hurt him. He watched his sister drive a fork into the nearest mushroom with practiced violence. “All of your colleagues were promoted. And you—”

“Just me.” She chewed with the focused intensity of someone channeling dissatisfaction into a task. The Bird Beak Mushrooms, browned and caramelized, received the full force of her professional frustration. “Do you know what he said? ‘If I’m not in a position to absorb the fallout, do you think you are?’ As if I hadn’t already calculated the risks. As if I didn’t know his character and determine specifically because I knew it that the risk was acceptable. And then he takes everything I did and dismisses it in three sentences, and tells me I think too much.” She speared another mushroom. “Is idealism really so naive?”

“Elder sister,” Cole said carefully, “are you… angry?”

She shot him a look that could have stripped paint. He shrank back a degree or two in his chair.

He had lived with Edith for over ten years. He knew the expressions: cold displeasure, sharp calculation, the deliberate warmth she deployed at banquets. He had never seen this one on an ordinary evening. It was technically a kind of annoyance — her words were complaints — but the undertone was something else. Something looser. He stared at her in spite of himself.

Unless he was badly mistaken, he thought, this looked like pouting.

The Pearl of the Northern Region. Pouting. Over a king who had calmly declined to let her take responsibility for something she’d done.

Cole felt a faint, inexplicable shudder travel the length of his spine.

“What are you staring at?” Edith’s eyes narrowed to something precise and sharp.

“Nothing.” He straightened quickly. “I just thought — maybe His Majesty has his reasons.”

“No doubt he does.” Edith finished the last mushroom and set the fork down with finality. “I’m quite interested to see how far someone with his particular brand of idealism actually goes.” A pause — the kind that landed like a foot on a loose floorboard. “But my unhappiness is real.”

”…Elder sister—”

“You’re the only one here.” She looked at him directly. “So you’ll serve as my outlet for now.”

Cole had a very bad feeling about the rest of the evening.

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