Chapter 216: Crimson, Fire and Rain [1]

The carriage traveled through Hiddleston in silence.

It was past midnight.

The town had not yet reached the pale hour before dawn, but night had grown thin and heavy around the streets. Darkness remained over the roofs and harbor, yet the air carried the first cold breath that came before morning. Mist drifted from the sea and moved between the narrow buildings, swallowing alleyways and gathering beneath the wheels of the carriage.

The horses continued at a steady pace.

Their hooves struck the dirt road.

The wheels rolled over loose stones and uneven ground, shaking the carriage with every turn. Airam sat inside without speaking. Valdris rode across from her with a satisfied smile.

Neither looked at the other.

The streets outside were mostly empty.

Only taverns remained open.

Warm yellow light spilled through their windows and open doors, cutting through the mist. A few drunkards stood outside one tavern with their backs against the wall, laughing too loudly as they passed around a bottle. One man sat in the gutter near a rain barrel, his head resting against the wood while he mumbled to himself.

Near the corner of another street, three musicians sat beneath the awning of a closed shop. One held a lute with several strings missing. Another tapped weakly at a small drum. The third sang in a low, slurred voice while a few coins rested in a hat near his feet.

They all looked up when the carriage passed.

The black crest of Valmoris gleamed against the door.

The sight silenced them.

The carriage did not slow.

Airam looked through the curtain beside her.

She saw Hiddleston sliding past in fragments: wet cobblestones, shuttered houses, lanterns swinging from iron brackets, and tired people who moved out of the road the moment they recognized the Imperial carriage.

No one stopped it.

No one dared.

Valdris watched her from across the carriage.

"You have been quiet," he said.

Airam did not look at him.

"There is nothing I wish to say to you."

"You may find that changes once you see Valmoris again."

"It will not."

Valdris gave no answer.

The carriage continued toward the harbor.

The sea became visible between the buildings.

At first, Airam saw only darkness.

Then lanterns appeared along the docks.

Their golden light stretched over the black water in long, trembling reflections. Masts rose beyond the warehouses and storage buildings. Ropes creaked. Ships knocked softly against their moorings. The smell of salt, wet wood, fish, tar, and old smoke filled the air.

The harbor was protected even at this hour.

Town guards stood near the gate leading onto the docks. They wore thick cloaks over their armor and carried lanterns in one hand, spears in the other. Two guards stepped into the road as the carriage approached.

"Stop," one called.

The driver pulled the reins.

The horses slowed.

The guard raised his lantern toward the carriage door.

Then he saw the crest.

His face changed.

He straightened at once.

"Valmorian Imperial carriage," he said.

The other guards immediately stepped aside.

The gate opened.

No one asked for names.

No one searched the carriage.

No one questioned why armed Valmorian soldiers had arrived in Hiddleston in the middle of the night.

The black crown of Valmoris was enough.

The carriage entered the harbor.

Airam lowered the curtain.

Her fingers rested tightly together in her lap.

The ship was waiting.

She had seen it from the road earlier, but it looked more real now that the carriage moved closer to the water. It was not the largest vessel in Hiddleston’s harbor. Several merchant ships nearby had wider decks and taller masts, while a distant Skargardian trade vessel towered above the smaller boats near the warehouses.

The Valmorian ship did not need to be huge.

It was built for speed.

Its hull was dark and narrow. The lines of the ship were clean, its sides reinforced with black metal along the lower edge. The Imperial crest had been painted near the prow. A black crown stood above a silver sword, stark against the dark wood.

It had been moored apart from the other ships.

A separate section of the harbor had been closed for it. Heavy chains blocked the nearby pier. Valmorian soldiers stood watch along the dock, their black armor dull beneath the lanterns. No merchant crews came close. No fishermen waited nearby. Even the town guards kept their distance from the private berth.

The carriage stopped.

Valdris opened the door first.

Cold sea air entered the carriage.

"Princess," he said.

Airam did not take his offered hand.

She stepped down on her own.

Her boots touched the dock.

The wood beneath her feet creaked softly with the movement of the tide. Wind pulled at her hair and the loose fabric of her nightgown. She had not been given proper travel clothing after leaving the camp. The Valmorian soldiers had only placed a dark cloak over her shoulders before putting her inside the carriage.

The knights stationed near the ship noticed her immediately.

They straightened.

Several lowered their heads in formal bows.

"Princess," one said.

"Welcome aboard, Your Highness," said another.

Airam ignored them.

She looked only at the ship.

A narrow gangplank had been lowered from the deck to the pier. Two guards stood at the top, their hands resting near their swords. Valmorian sailors moved across the deck, preparing ropes and checking the lanterns near the mast.

Airam walked toward the gangplank.

Valdris followed behind her.

She stepped onto the wooden ramp.

It shifted faintly beneath her weight.

Each step took her farther from the shore.

Farther from Hermione.

Farther from Esther.

Farther from Ulrich.

She reached the deck.

The ship’s captain stood waiting near the main mast. He wore a dark naval coat with silver embroidery at the collar, and his hair had been tied back beneath a black hat. He bowed deeply as Airam came aboard.

"Your Highness."

Airam passed him without responding.

The captain looked toward Valdris.

The commander stepped onto the deck behind her.

"Prepare to depart," Valdris said. "We have completed our task."

The captain bowed again.

"At once, Commander."

Sailors began moving immediately.

Ropes were loosened.

The guards at the gangplank lifted it from the pier. The ship shifted gently against its moorings. A sailor climbed toward the mast while another called instructions from the deck.

Airam stood near the rail.

She watched the harbor lights.

Hiddleston was quiet from here. The taverns had become little more than distant squares of warm light. The town walls rose behind the docks, dark and wet beneath the night sky. Beyond them waited the forests, the road, the ruined camp.

Ulrich.

Her younger sisters, her only family.

By now, the ship would leave Hiddleston. The sea would separate them likely forever. Even if she wanted to see her sisters again, she wouldn’t give Sedhoran the chance to reach them.

Valdris came to stand beside her.

"Did Sedhoran send all these men for us," Airam asked after a while.

A real Valmorian Ship, all these men...

It felt almost overkill.

Was her father really that hell-bent on picking them until even preparing an attack against a Count?

Obviously, Skargardia would never take the risk of antagonizing the Valmorian Empire, especially for witches. It would be laughable to even think that, but she never thought her father would go that far.

He didn’t come on his own and sent one of his commanders and a contingent of his soldiers to retrieve them like they were some artefacts.

Valdris smiled.

"His Majesty does not see this as a simple matter of political value, Princess. You may doubt him. You may hate him. But he has not forgotten you."

Airam let out a cold breath.

"He ignored us for two years."

"Your mother demanded distance."

"Mother was dead when Ulrich adopted us."

Valdris’s face remained composed.

"The Emperor had reasons to wait."

"Of course he did."

Airam turned back toward the harbor.

"Everything with him has a reason. Every gift. Every kind word. Every promise. He gives people what they want until it is time for him to take what he wants."

Valdris watched her silently.

"You believe he does not care for you," he said at last.

"I know he does not."

"You will understand differently when you see him."

Airam gritted her teeth before turning around.

"I want to rest."

Valdris nodded toward one of the nearby knights.

"Escort Princess Airam to her cabin," he ordered. "Make sure she is given food, water, and anything else she requires. She is to rest before we sail."

The knight bowed.

"Yes, Commander."

Airam pushed away from the railing.

The knight led her toward the cabins below the deck. Airam took only a few steps before the sound came.

BOOOM!!

A violent crack tore across the harbor.

The deck trembled.

Everyone stopped.

The sound did not come from the sea.

It came from the front of the ship.

A second impact followed.

Wood split apart.

The ship lurched hard enough that Airam had to grab the railing. Several sailors stumbled. One fell to his knees beside a coil of rope. The captain shouted something, but the words were lost beneath another thunderous noise.

Fire erupted near the prow.

Flames rose into the night.

Valdris turned sharply.

The Valmorian knights drew their swords.

Airam looked toward the front of the vessel.

Her eyes widened.

The ship’s ram had been cut in two.

The pointed figurehead, a black metal shape carved into the form of a crowned sea serpent, had fallen away from the hull. It struck the water below with a massive splash. Waves rolled outward, slamming into the nearby docks and making the moored ships pull hard against their ropes.

The remaining half of the ram still clung to the front of the ship.

It was burning.

Flames climbed over black wood and twisted metal.

And through the fire stood a figure.

A crimson-haired man stood upon the broken ram.

His clothes were still stained with blood. His body remained battered beneath the torn white shirt. Rain had not yet begun, but smoke curled around him in dark strands. In his right hand, he held a black anti-magic sword.

Ulrich.

For a moment, Airam could not move.

She could not breathe.

RUMBLEEEE!!

Then thunder rolled across the sky.

A bright flash split the darkness above Hiddleston.

Rain began to fall.

The first drops struck the harbor water.

Then the ship’s deck.

Then Ulrich’s crimson hair, bloodied face and clothes.

Airam stared at him with wide black eyes.

Shock and disbelief overwhelmed her.

And something else she did not understand rose within her as Ulrich stood against the flames, the black blade lowered in his hand, his deep crimson eyes fixed coldly upon Valdris who was equally shocked.