Chapter 226: Agreement With Valdris [2]

"You acted independently," Ulrich said. "That is why you do not want this to spread. That is why you are trying to threaten me with scandal and politics instead of calling for Valmorian reinforcements."

Valdris’s eyes sharpened.

"And if I am right, the Empire will not be angry only because you failed."

Ulrich looked directly at him.

"It will be angry because you failed so miserably that you turned your personal ambition into a diplomatic disaster."

Valdris chuckled softly.

The sound carried across the damaged deck.

At the same time, Airam stirred against Ulrich’s chest.

Her eyes opened slowly.

For a moment, she looked disoriented. Then she saw Valdris lying nearby.

Her dark eyes narrowed.

"You may be right," Valdris said.

He looked at Ulrich.

"But you understand the situation as well as I do. If Skargardia enters into open conflict with Valmoris, there will be no good outcome for your kingdom."

Ulrich’s expression remained still.

Valdris continued.

"Skargardia will be annexed by the Emperor at best."

His voice became colder.

"At worst, it will be wiped away."

The threat remained in the air between them.

Ulrich did not need Valdris to explain the difference in strength between the two nations. Valmoris possessed greater numbers, better soldiers, more war-mages, and resources Skargardia could not match. The Empire had spent generations expanding through military force and political pressure.

Skargardia could fight.

It could resist.

But a full war with Valmoris would cost countless lives.

Ulrich rose slightly from where he rested against the broken ramp.

His body screamed in pain.

Pain ran through his ribs and shoulder. The wound at his missing arm burned beneath the bandages. He swayed when he forced himself upright.

Airam immediately pulled away from his chest.

She stood beside him.

Her cloak was still soaked from the rain. Her dark hair clung to her cheeks and shoulders. She remained silent, but her gaze never left Valdris.

Ulrich took a slow step forward.

Then another.

He approached Valdris with the black anti-magic sword in his hand.

Valdris watched him come.

Valdris could not move far. The wound across his chest had weakened him too badly. Yet he did not beg. He did not call for help. He simply looked up at Ulrich with his dark eyes, waiting to see whether Ulrich intended to finish what he had started.

Ulrich stopped beside him.

He raised the sword.

Airam watched.

Valdris closed his eyes.

The black blade came down.

It struck the deck beside Valdris’s face.

The point buried itself in the wet wood.

Valdris opened his eyes.

Ulrich stood above him.

His face was pale from blood loss. His shirt had been torn and soaked through. His crimson hair hung damp around his face. Yet his gaze remained cold and dark.

"You will answer to Skargardia for this incident," Ulrich said.

Valdris’s eyes narrowed.

"You attacked my camp. You killed my knights. You brought foreign soldiers onto Skargardian soil and attempted to abduct members of House Rubenhart."

Ulrich leaned slightly on the sword.

"You will take responsibility for whatever reasons you see fit."

Valdris remained silent for a moment.

Then he gave a nod.

"I will."

He did not have much choice.

Valdris would have to return with a story.

A convincing one.

Perhaps he could claim that the attack had been caused by rogue mercenaries. Perhaps he could blame a witch faction, demon remnants, or an unknown force moving through Skargardia. He would need to explain the dead soldiers, the damaged ship, and his own wounds.

He would need to make certain no one learned what had actually happened.

He had failed.

He had lost most of his men.

He had nearly died.

And he had failed to bring Airam to Valmoris.

But creating a false explanation would still be better than allowing the truth to reach the Emperor. Sedhoran might forgive failure if it came from circumstances beyond Valdris’s control.

He would not forgive a commander who acted independently, created a diplomatic crisis, and returned empty-handed after losing so many Imperial soldiers.

Ulrich watched him.

"No words about Airam, Hermione, or Esther."

Valdris’s mouth curved faintly.

The demand sounded almost naïve.

Ulrich knew it.

The girls’ true origins would eventually be revealed. Secrets this large did not remain buried forever. Too many people already knew pieces of the truth. Anna-Maria had once lived within Valmoris. Valdris knew. The Emperor knew. The covens knew enough. There were likely others who had remained silent only because Anna-Maria lived.

But Ulrich needed time.

Time to prepare for the moment the world learned that three adopted witches beneath his roof were the daughters of Sedhoran Van Valmoria.

Valdris looked at Ulrich.

"No words about the real incident," he said.

Ulrich’s eyes narrowed.

Valdris continued.

"No words about your attack on an Imperial vessel. No words about the soldiers you killed. No words about what happened here tonight."

He glanced toward the bodies scattered across the deck.

"If this becomes a public matter, both of us will suffer from it."

Ulrich did not answer immediately.

He considered Kaliantha.

The Queen already knew that Anna-Maria’s daughters lived under his protection. She knew the sisters were witches. She had allowed them to attend the Princess’s coming-of-age ceremony. Ulrich had spent time building trust with her, and the events in the capital had strengthened their relationship.

But Kaliantha did not know the sisters were Valmorian princesses.

If she learned, questions would come.

Ulrich had adopted three daughters of Anna-Maria. That alone had made many nobles suspicious. Most people did not believe that a man with Ulrich’s past would take witches into his House out of simple compassion. They assumed there had to be another reason.

If the girls were revealed as Sedhoran’s daughters, Kaliantha might begin to wonder whether Ulrich had known from the start.

She might doubt him.

She might question whether his adoption had been part of a hidden scheme against Valmoris. She might wonder why he had kept such dangerous information from the Crown. Even if she believed his words, her responsibility as Queen would force her to investigate.

Ulrich had only just built a useful relationship with her.

He could not allow that trust to fracture now.

Not when he needed the Crown’s support more than ever.

Ulrich pulled the black sword free from the deck.

Then he opened his space ring.

A small distortion appeared in the air beside his hand. The black sword disappeared inside it.

He had no intention of allowing the true incident to spread either.

Airam stood beside him.

Her eyes remained on Valdris.

Then she spoke.

"We should kill him."

Valdris looked toward her.

"Princess," he said, "everything I did was for your sake."

Airam’s eyes hardened.

She took one step toward him.

Her gaze moved toward Valdris’s sword lying beside him.

Valdris watched her carefully.

Airam’s witchcraft had been suppressed, but she did not need magic to kill him. She could pick up the sword. She could drive it into his throat before he had any chance to move.

But...

"Airam."

Ulrich called her.

She stopped.

Her gaze remained on Valdris.

Ulrich did not say anything else.

He did not need to.

Airam looked at him.

For a moment, coldness remained in her face.

Then she looked away.

Ulrich turned from Valdris.

Then she looked away.

He walked across the damaged deck.

Near one of the fallen Valmorian soldiers, he stopped.

His left forearm lay several paces away, partly beneath the shadow of the broken railing. Rainwater had washed much of the blood across the planks, but a red pool still gathered around the severed limb. The white sleeve had darkened almost completely.

Ulrich stood over it for a brief moment.

His body shook faintly from blood loss, pain, the serum, and the Hollow Core’s lingering strain. The bandages around the stump beneath his left elbow had already begun to stain through again.

Then he bent down.

With his remaining hand, Ulrich picked up the severed forearm carefully by the sleeve.

He did not let himself linger over the sight.

He did not allow his mind to return to the instant Valdris’s sword had cut through it. The arm had been caught within the distorted space created by the Hollow Core. Ulrich’s body had crossed the distance, but his forearm had remained trapped behind for the smallest fraction of time.

That fraction had been enough.

That was one of the many dangers of the Hollow Core. If he used it recklessly and without control, it would be a danger not only for him but also for the people around him

A small distortion appeared in the air beside him.

His space ring opened and Ulrich placed the severed limb inside carefully.

He did not intend to abandon it.

The best physicians and healers in Skargardia would need to examine the injury. Reattaching the limb would be difficult. The mana pathways had been damaged, and time would matter; still, it wasn’t impossible, obviously.

The space ring closed.

Ulrich straightened slowly.

He walked toward the gangplank.

Airam followed beside him.

They reached the edge of the ship, where the ramp had been lowered onto the private dock. The harbor remained dark and quiet. Most of Hiddleston still slept. The town guards stayed far away, and the place seemed held by the crew members of Valdris’s ship, likely Valdris ordered to keep them at bay while he was unconscious.

Behind them, Valdris spoke.

"Your father will come for you eventually, Princess."

Airam stopped.

Ulrich did not.

Valdris’s voice continued through the damp night.

"And when he comes with real intent..."

His eyes moved toward Ulrich’s back.

"You will wish you had sent them with me today."

Ulrich ignored him.

He stepped down from the ship.

Airam followed.

Together, they left the Valmorian vessel behind them and walked onto the dark harbor docks.