Chapter 227: A Suspiscious Inn To Rest

Ulrich agreed with Valdris and walked away with Airam at his side.

Whatever mess the harbor left behind was no longer his concern. Valdris would spend the coming days shaping the wreckage into a story everyone could swallow: dead soldiers, a burned ship, a commander come home short an arm’s worth of men. Ulrich had traded his silence for that same silence in return, and beyond the terms of the trade, he found he had nothing left to spend on caring how the man managed it.

Hiddlestone had woken around them. Lantern flames bobbed behind shutters up and down the harbor road, and voices carried out of doorways as townsfolk gathered toward the smoke and the ringing steel still drifting up from the docks. Ulrich kept to the far side of the street, Airam beside him, putting distance between themselves and the knots of onlookers craning toward the water.

His face had gone the color of tallow, and his left sleeve hung slack and empty at the shoulder. No one spared him a glance for it. A harbor full of burning ships and dead men made a one-armed nobleman walking quietly past into nothing worth remarking on.

Airam’s fingers stayed locked around his forearm.

She had held him like that since the deck of the ship, and only now, with his mind climbing slowly back out of the fog the pain had buried it in, did he register the grip at all.

He looked down at her.

"I can walk on my own."

"No," she said, not looking up from the road ahead.

They went a little farther before she slowed, her gaze fixed on a squat, sagging building set back off the street, one lamp guttering weakly above its door.

"Here," she said. "We stop for the night."

"We haven’t the time to waste. We ride for the Estate—"

"You’ll die if you don’t rest," she said, cutting him off. "You can barely stand upright."

The serum had kept his heart beating when it had no business doing so, and Airam understood well enough that such mercy always came with a debt attached. She had no intention of finding out what that debt looked like in the back of a jolting carriage on a dark road, when a bed and a night’s stillness might spare him the worst of the collecting.

Ulrich knew the drawback of the serum was coming too. His whole body had turned into one long, unbroken ache, deep enough that lying down in the mud and simply stopping seemed, for a passing thought, like a reasonable plan. Only stubbornness kept his legs moving under him. If he was going to fall, he wanted it to happen behind his own estate walls, not in a harbor town that had just watched half his knights die in the water for a family that wasn’t even his by blood.

"No," he said again, as Airam started toward the door.

His reasons went beyond wasted time. The inn looked one hard rain from collapsing, its shutters split and its sign long since faded past reading. Battered and one-armed as he was, some stubborn scrap of him still balked at sleeping under a roof like that.

Airam did not care, however as she pulled harder.

"Airam."

"Don’t make me drag you," she said.

He stared at her.

That was the worst part of it. She could actually. There was nothing left in his arm to argue with hers.

"We leave at first light," she said. "Once you’ve slept." She pulled again, and this time his boots followed her without protest.

She led him through the door.

Behind a narrow counter sat an old man with a mouth full of gaps between his remaining teeth, and he grinned at the sight of them.

"Rough night for you two, eh?"

"One room," Airam said.

His eyes slid over to her and stayed there a beat longer than courtesy allowed before he smoothed his face back into something more like business. "That’ll run you ten silver, my lady."

"Ten, for a room in this misery," Ulrich said, making no effort to soften the scorn.

"Then go find another inn, you fool," the old man snapped back.

He had no notion whose company he’d just insulted, that the swaying, half-dead stranger in front of him was accounted among the most feared nobles in all of Skargardia. Ignorance served him well tonight; even exhausted past reason, Ulrich’s stare alone was enough to send a cold prickle down the back of the man’s neck.

"Ten silver," Airam repeated, glancing sideways at Ulrich.

She carried no coin of her own. That duty had always belonged to him.

Ulrich reached into his space ring and drew out a small leather pouch. Airam took it from his hand and worked the drawstring open herself.

"...what."

The old man’s eyes went round at the dull glint inside, gold catching the lamp’s weak flame.

Airam had to dig past it to find the silver buried beneath, counting the coins out one at a time onto the counter.

"One room," she said again.

"Right you are, right away," the innkeeper muttered, some of his earlier bluster gone out of him, and shuffled off ahead of them toward the stairs.

The floor above was worse.

Men slouched against the walls or sat sprawled across the boards outright, drawing on pipes that gave off a thick, sour smoke. Hiddlestone was no beggar’s town by the standard of most, but every town kept a corner like this one tucked out of sight, and it seemed luck had steered them straight into it tonight. The men there, gaunt and threadbare, looked Ulrich over as he passed, then let their gaze linger rather longer on Airam, their grins curling into something very sinister.

"Best room in the house, this one," the old man said, stopping at the door at the far end and pushing it open.

Ulrich braced himself for the worst, had already half-composed the excuse he’d give for walking straight back out and finding another town regardless of the hour. Instead, the room beyond was clean, its furnishings plain but sound, the linens free of the stains he’d expected.

The innkeeper pressed the key into Airam’s palm with a leering smile.

"Good night to you both," he said, and shut the door behind him.

Airam turned the lock, then unclasped her cloak and let it drop from her shoulders.

Ulrich’s gaze lingered on the closed door a moment longer before he turned to face the room.

He walked toward the window. Reaching it, he stopped and looked outside through the rain-streaked glass, narrowing his eyes as he looked at the darkness beyond.

Ulrich remained there for several moments, watching.

A minute later, the innkeeper emerged from outside and joined some of the men who had been lingering near the entrance. Their voices carried faintly through the walls, accompanied by occasional chuckles and low conversation.

Ulrich watched them for another moment.

Then, without a word, he reached up and drew the curtain shut.

The room immediately became darker.

He turned away from the window and returned toward the door. His movements were slower now, his exhaustion becoming more apparent with every step, but his expression remained focused.

He checked the key in the lock once.

Then again.

Only after making certain it was properly secured did he glance around the room for something else he could use.

His eyes settled on a nearby wooden chair.

Ulrich picked it up and positioned it beneath the door handle, wedging it into place.

Airam watched him silently from behind.

Even in his current state, he was still performing the same security checks he always did.

He was injured, exhausted, barely even standing, and yet his first instinct was still to make certain that nothing could reach them while they slept.

Then she noticed something else.

Crimson sparks had begun gathering around Ulrich’s hand.

Her expression immediately changed.

Mana.

He was trying to use magic again.

Judging by the faint pattern beginning to form in the air, he was most likely attempting to create a barrier around the room.

But Airam wasn’t going to allow it.

Even from behind, she could see the strain spreading across his face.

The crimson light flickered violently around his fingers.

His body trembled.

Airam could almost feel the pain radiating from him.

He had already pushed himself far beyond what his body should have allowed.

And yet he was still trying.

She stepped forward and caught his arm.

"No."

Ulrich stopped.

He slowly turned his head and glanced at her.

"I will do it."

"You will destroy the inn," Ulrich replied, giving her a ’you must be joking look’.

Airam stared at him.

She didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, she looked at his pale face and the crimson sparks still trembling around his hand.

He was worried about the possibility of an attack.

Airam understood his concern.

But she also understood something else.

He couldn’t keep going.

"No one will harm us," she said firmly. "They are weak."

Ulrich’s expression remained unconvinced.

"Rest now," Airam added.

"No."

Ulrich replied and he raised his hand again.

The crimson glow intensified.

Mana gathered around his fingers, and a faint magical formula began forming in the air before him. Lines of crimson light appeared one after another, slowly connecting into the beginning of a barrier spell.

Airam narrowed her eyes, and she immediately grabbed his arm again.

The moment she pulled him back, the half-formed spell collapsed.

The crimson formula shattered into sparks before disappearing completely.

But this time, Airam pulled harder.

Ulrich’s already exhausted legs finally gave out beneath him.

His body lurched forward.

Airam caught him, but his weight was far greater than she expected.

They both fell.

Thudd!

"Ughh..."

Airam groaned as Ulrich’s weight landed against her.

For a moment, she simply remained there, trying to catch her breath.

Then she looked down.

Ulrich’s head was resting against her chest.

He was barely conscious.

His face had become frighteningly pale, his eyes closed tightly as though even the smallest movement caused him pain. His expression twitched faintly in discomfort, while his breathing came in ragged breaths.

"Ulrich."

She called his name.

There was no response.

Airam’s expression changed.

"Ulrich?"

Still nothing.

She shifted slightly, propping herself up on one elbow so she could look at him properly.

He remained motionless.

His crimson hair was soaked, strands of it clinging to his forehead and cheeks. The water had darkened the long strands until they looked almost black in the dim room.

Airam slowly reached out her hand.

Her fingers touched his wet hair.

She brushed it away from his face.

For the first time, she could properly see his features without the usual sharpness in his expression.

He looked...so vulnerable.

Airam had never seen Ulrich like this.

Even when injured, he rarely allowed anyone to see weakness in him.

But now there was nothing left for him to hide behind.

His strength had finally run out.

Airam’s fingers continued gently brushing the damp hair away from his face.

His features appeared almost delicate without the usual coldness in his eyes and the tension around his mouth.

For a moment, she simply stared at him.

Then she spoke quietly.

"I will protect you now."

With that, Airam carefully shifted her position and began dragging Ulrich’s body toward the bed.

It was not easy.

He was completely limp now, his weight making every movement difficult, but she eventually managed to pull him across the floor.

Once she reached the bed, she lifted him enough to place him upon the mattress.

Ulrich fell onto the bed with a soft groan, his body sinking into the blankets.

Airam sat beside him and began removing his boots.

Once they were off, she turned her attention to his clothes.

His shirt was drenched from the rain and clung tightly to his body. The fabric was torn in several places, and the dark stains of blood had spread across it.

She carefully pulled it away.

Once the shirt was removed, Airam’s eyes immediately fell on the bandages covering his body.

Her expression grew grim.

Fresh cuts had reopened beneath some of them.

Blood had soaked through the cloth in several places, while other wounds were surrounded by older stains that had already dried.

For several seconds, Airam simply stared.

There was far more blood than she had realized.

She slowly pulled her gaze away.

There was nothing she could do about it tonight.

Airam finally removed her own boots and climbed onto the bed.

Her nightgown was still drenched.

The cloak she had worn had thankfully taken most of the rain, but enough water had still reached the thin fabric beneath it. The nightgown clung uncomfortably to her skin.

Unfortunately, she had no change of clothes.

So she would simply have to endure it.

She just climbed beside Ulrich.

She turned onto her side, curling her body toward him.

For a long moment, she watched his profile.

Every now and then, his brow tightened slightly, as though even unconsciousness could not completely free him from the pain.

Airam remained still.

Eventually, her eyelids began to grow heavy.

And she finally closed her eyes.