“The stewardship requires House Harwick to protect the settlements under its administration,” Mary continued. “It prohibits extraordinary levies during crop failure, seizure of seed grain, imprisonment without recorded charge, and military action against Greykeep.”
“These documents are centuries old.”
“Yes.”
“Greykeep was dead.”
“No,” Alistair said.
The old captain approached us.
“It was waiting.”
Harwick looked around the courtyard.
More Crowns were appearing.
Soldiers on the walls.
Servants carrying water.
Civilians sheltering beneath the western arcade.
Dozens of golden symbols shone across open palms.
Lord Berrin’s troops pushed through the damaged gate.
Their commander rode behind them on a dark horse. He was broad, red-faced, and smiling as though the battle had been arranged for his entertainment.
Harwick pointed toward him.
“Help me defeat Berrin, and we can discuss the prisoners.”
“The prisoners are already free,” I said.
His face changed.
“What?”
“And the servants on the lower level are evacuating.”
The mage rose behind Melody.
She tapped him with his own staff.
He sat down again.
Berrin raised his sword.
“Westmere is mine!”
The declaration echoed across the courtyard.
Several people looked at him.
No one appeared impressed.
I stepped away from Harwick.
“Lord Berrin!”
He saw me and pulled his horse to a stop.
“You must be the pretender.”
“Uriah.”
“I know who you claim to be.”
“That saves time.”
Berrin’s soldiers continued advancing.
I looked at the damaged gate.
Then at the bridge behind them.
The old stone responded before I touched it.
Westmere was awake now.
I lifted one hand.
The portcullis fell behind Berrin’s army.
Hundreds of soldiers turned.
Stone rose across the courtyard exits, dividing Berrin’s force into smaller groups. Weapons tore themselves from startled hands and flew into a growing pile beside the wall.
The fighting stopped.
Not slowly.
One moment, the courtyard was filled with steel, shouting, and fire.
The next, three hundred soldiers stood unarmed inside stone enclosures.
Berrin looked at his sword.
I took that too.
It joined the pile.
His horse decided it had endured enough excitement and sat down.
Berrin slid from the saddle.
Melody stared at the horse.
“I did not know they could do that.”
“Neither did he,” I said.
Berrin climbed to his feet.
“You cannot hold us.”
“I am currently holding you.”
“My allies will come.”
Evelyn moved beside me.
“No, they will not.”
He recognized her.
“Lady Valewood.”
“Your riders approached my escort yesterday.”
Berrin’s confidence faded.
“They offered me a place in your division of Harwick’s territory,” she continued. “I declined.”
Harwick stared at him.
“You planned this before my messenger arrived.”
Berrin brushed dirt from his coat.
“You lost five hundred men at Greykeep.”
“They are not dead,” I said.
Both lords looked at me.
“I thought that was worth clarifying.”
Harwick’s face twisted.
“This is what you bring. Rebellion. Disorder. Every petty lord will attack his neighbor if he believes the old boundaries can be overturned.”
“Berrin attacked because he believed you were weak.”
“Because of you!”
“You burned Lowfield’s grain.”
“They withheld taxes.”
“You imprisoned children for carrying the Crown.”
“They were symbols of sedition.”
“You sent an army to seize Greykeep.”
“It was my land!”
“No,” Mary said.
She removed a document from the case.
“It was never your land, steward.”
Harwick stared at the paper.
Mary read aloud.
“By the powers retained within the founding charter, the stewardship of House Harwick is revoked for repeated violation of its protections, unlawful war against the Crown, and deliberate harm to the inhabitants of Greykeep’s recognized territories.”
“You cannot revoke anything.”
Mary looked at me.
Apparently that part belonged to me.
I did not want Harwick’s land.
I did not want his citadel.
I did not want several thousand more people depending on decisions I was still learning to make.
But stewardship was not ownership.
Authority existed to serve people.
Harwick had forgotten that.
Or he had never believed it.
“Lord Harwick,” I said, “your stewardship is revoked.”
The Crown flashed.
Golden light raced across the courtyard.
It passed through the walls, climbed the towers, and spread along every road leading away from Westmere Hold.
Harwick staggered.
The black tower emblem above the keep cracked down the center.
Beneath it, hidden under generations of plaster, a stone Crown appeared.
No one spoke.
Harwick looked at his hands.
No symbol appeared.
“I am Lord of Westmere.”
“Not anymore.”
“You cannot take my birthright.”
“I am not taking it.”
I looked toward the people sheltering in the courtyard.
“You lost it.”
Berrin began edging toward the gate.
A stone ring closed around his boots.
“I had almost forgotten about you,” I said.
His shoulders sagged.
Evelyn approached Harwick.
“For ten years, my family accepted your taxes, your reports, and your assurances that Westmere was stable.”
He said nothing.
“I came to judge Greykeep,” she continued. “Instead, I found thousands of people building shelter together. I found a king carrying timber while his walls remained broken. I found laws discussed openly and authority shared before it was secure.”
She looked toward the flooded stairwell.
“And here I found a lord willing to drown his own household rather than admit he had lost control.”
Harwick’s eyes moved toward me.
“You think he will be better?”
“No,” Evelyn replied. “I think he will make mistakes.”
That was reassuring.
“He is inexperienced. Impulsive. Politically inconvenient and disturbingly comfortable with allowing armed women to argue with him.”
Melody nodded.
“He is.”
“But he listens when people speak. He accepts limits. And when he had the power to destroy five hundred enemies, he chose to save them.”
Evelyn removed the silver tree brooch from her cloak.
“The Valewood Measure is concluded.”
She faced me.
“Uriah Grey, House Valewood recognizes Greykeep’s restoration.”
Silence covered the courtyard.
Then Alistair knelt.
Captain Edric entered through the western passage and saw him.
He knelt too.
His guards followed.
Thomas appeared among the evacuated servants. He held his glowing palm where everyone could see it.
He knelt.
Others began to do the same.
I looked at Mary.
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Accept.”
“How?”
“You are the king.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It is the answer you have.”
Of course it was.
I turned toward the people of Westmere.
“Stand.”
Some raised their heads.
“Please,” I added. “This courtyard is wet, several people are injured, and we have a wall on fire. This feels like a poor time for kneeling.”
Thomas stood first.
Others followed.
Melody smiled.
Mary shook her head, but she was smiling too.
We spent the next six hours repairing what two lords had broken.
Harwick and Berrin were confined in separate rooms under Captain Edric’s guard. Their soldiers surrendered their weapons and helped extinguish the fires. The injured received treatment regardless of which cloak they wore.
No one was executed.
That disappointed a few people.
It relieved many more.
Harwick’s records revealed enough grain in the citadel storehouses to replace what had been burned at Lowfield. Mary found tax ledgers proving that he had collected nearly twice the lawful amount from three villages.
She became frighteningly cheerful.
By sunset, the gate had been repaired.
The prisoners chose to return with us to Greykeep until their homes were safe. Captain Edric remained in temporary command of Westmere’s defenses, supervised by a council of local residents.
He did not like the council.
That was one reason I thought it might work.
Evelyn assigned twelve of her guards to help maintain order. Berrin’s soldiers would return home without their lord and without the supplies they had intended to steal.
Harwick watched from a tower window as we crossed the courtyard.
He looked smaller without an army around him.
I did not feel victorious.
Mostly, I felt tired.
Mary walked beside me.
“You revoked a lord’s hereditary stewardship.”
“Yes.”
“Defeated a second invading army.”
“Technically, the walls defeated them.”
“Freed twenty-three prisoners.”
“With help.”
“Prevented the lower citadel from flooding.”
“That caused some structural damage.”
“Reopened Westmere’s transit gate.”
“The Castellan did most of that.”
Mary looked at me.
“When you list it like that, it sounds busy.”
She laughed.
I smiled.
Melody joined us carrying the mage’s staff.
“I thought I said you could not keep that.”
“You said we did not know what it did.”
“We still do not.”
“The mage explained it.”
I looked behind her.
The thin man in blue robes walked between two guards. His hands were bound, and he appeared deeply offended.
“What does it do?”
Melody lifted the staff.
“It helps control water.”
“No.”
“But—”
“No.”
She handed it to Mary.
Mary nearly dropped it.
We entered the underground passage.
The twenty-three prisoners waited before the transit gate with Alistair, Evelyn, and several injured servants. Golden light filled the chamber.
“Castellan,” I said.
The golden eye appeared across the doors.
“Provisional Crown authority confirmed.”
“Can all of us return to Greykeep?”
“Current authorization permits thirty-two protected travelers.”
I counted.
There were thirty-four of us.
“Of course.”
Captain Edric stepped backward.
“I will remain.”
“So will I,” one of his guards said.
The gate opened.
Greykeep waited beyond it.
Warm lanterns glowed in the transit chamber. Eliza stood on the other side with fifty armed defenders.
Her sword was drawn.
When she saw us, relief crossed her face.
Then she counted the people.
“You left with five.”
“We made friends,” Melody said.
“Some of them are prisoners.”
“Former prisoners.”
Eliza looked at me.
“What happened?”
“Harwick is no longer Lord of Westmere.”
She stared.
“You were gone for less than a day.”
“When you list it like that,” Mary said, “it sounds busy.”
One by one, the people of Westmere crossed into Greykeep.
Peter limped through with Abigail supporting him. Thomas came last among the freed prisoners, still carrying the keys that had opened the servants’ passages.
Before stepping through, he looked back at Westmere Hold.
Then he faced me.
“My grandmother was right.”
“About Greykeep returning?”
He nodded.
I looked through the open gate toward the scarred Crowns, the damaged halls, and the people already beginning to repair them.
“No,” I said. “Not yet.”
Thomas frowned.
I smiled.
“But we are getting there.”
He crossed the threshold.
The transit doors began to close.
Evelyn remained beside me until the gap narrowed.
“You passed,” she said.
“The Measure?”
“Yes.”
“Was there a score?”
“No.”
“That seems poorly organized.”
She almost smiled.
“Valewood will send builders, grain, healers, and legal representatives to Greykeep.”
“That sounds expensive.”
“It is.”
“What do you want in return?”
“Nothing today.”
“That means something later.”
“You are learning.”
She responded with what can only be considered a sweet smile.
The doors sealed.
Golden light faded across the chamber.
For the first time since entering Westmere Hold, everything became quiet.
Then Eliza approached.
“Two thousand more people arrived while you were away.”
I closed my eyes.
Melody patted my shoulder.
“Welcome home.”
Somewhere above us, Greykeep’s bells began to ring.
Not in warning.
In celebration.
The sound traveled through the castle and across the growing settlement. Thousands of voices answered it.
I looked at Mary.
“Please tell me someone built more shelters.”
“Seven.”
“For two thousand people?”
“We had less than a day.”
I rubbed my face.
Harwick was defeated.
Westmere was free.
House Valewood recognized us.
And Greykeep still needed roofs, wells, kitchens, roads, guards, laws, and enough toilets for a population that apparently intended to become a city before I was ready.
The Crown on my palm glowed warmly.
I suspected it found this amusing.
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