📖 Author's NoteBonus chapter for 10k views — thank you for reading and enjoy!
The ruins of the marquisate wester extended before them, silent witnesses of a reign marked by pain. For some, that morning was the closing of a circle; for others, a bitter defeat. But there was something that all shared: the simple fact of still being alive, still able to fight.
Isabela raised her eyes to the devastated marquisate, the trembling voice and clenching her fists: "Today… I lost my family twice. First by the attack of the Count… and then… I had to put an end to them with my own hands. I don't know if I will be able to move on after what I witnessed here."
Brianna slightly tilted her head, breathing deeply before speaking, her eyes fixed on the horizon: "Once someone important told me: 'Life can only be understood looking backwards; but it must be lived looking forward.'"
Karna frowned, whistling low, impatient: "And… where is this person now?"
Brianna's gaze became cold and sharp, the silence heavy between them before she answered: "She is dead."
Without waiting for anything else, Brianna descended the steps that remained intact, the firm steps echoing through the emptiness of the ruins. Karna followed right behind, lightly hitting his fists on his thighs as if trying to shake off the tension. Kael and Ereon came next, their shoulders rigid, their expression marked by battle.
Isabela remained for an instant, breathing deeply, her fingers intertwined and contemplating the destroyed marquisate. Each detail seemed engraved in her memory — the destruction, the lives taken, the justice fulfilled. With a sigh, she finally gathered her strength and followed the group, her eyes still misty, but the determination lit in her chest.
Ahead of them, Kaelir was already waiting, focused. With a firm gesture of the hand, he opened a sparkling fissure that crossed the space ahead, forming a safe path free of obstacles. The group advanced, passing through the portal with cautious steps, the sound of the ruins fading behind, while the road to the castle of the county extended before them, promising new challenges and decisions.
Some days later, the castle was already breathing a precarious routine. Brianna was evaluating maps and documents, planning the next steps of the county.
Suddenly, one of the young women that Brianna had saved knocked on the door, the dry and firm voice: "Miss Brianna… the nobles of the county keep asking for an audience with the provisional chief, sir Heron. He said that he won't be able to keep them away for much longer. What should I inform about how he must proceed?"
Brianna hit her hand on the table, exasperated: "It can only be a joke! Phoebe went east, Kael north, Ereon disappeared as soon as we arrived… and I am the only one here!"
Karna, who was lying on a nearby sofa, raised his head and grumbled: "Don't forget me."
Brianna arched an eyebrow, with irony: "Really? You spent so much time lying there that I thought the room had swallowed you."
"I am not completely recovered yet," he answered, sitting up a little more. "I hope you didn't forget that your crazy mother tried to kill me right after I went through that hardship to save Kael and Ereon from immortal beings."
Brianna let out a sigh, a mix of frustration and contained amusement, while she leaned again over the maps and documents. The county demanded quick decisions, and she knew there was no time for lamentations — only action.
Brianna spoke firmly, directing her words to the closed door: "Tell Heron to send everyone back tomorrow. Say that I will receive them. And did he mention something about movement of the church?"
The young woman quickly answered: "About that, he asked to inform that there was no suspicious movement."
Brianna nodded, turning back to the table, tracing careful lines over the county map, each route marked with her own symbols: "I understand. Pass my message to Heron. After that, lock the doors of the castle."
Karna frowned, confused, and spoke with a serious tone: "Is it that bad?"
Brianna raised her gaze, her hand still resting over the map: "Until now, they are only trying to confirm if I am the Countess of Caeté. That is why there was no bigger movement. But as soon as they discover the temple and the nobles that wish to rise… they will start a civil war. And not to mention that, in two months, the royal prince comes to inspect the territory — right after the war that the Count started."
Karna leaned back on the sofa, crossing his arms: "Do you think it was a good idea to interrupt the circle that links to the royal capital?"
Brianna closed her eyes for an instant, breathing deeply, before opening her eyes with determination and looking again at the map, tracing strategic routes: "Yes. I need to arrange a good excuse to avoid punishments from the county and manage to keep this territory under our control. That's why I hope Phoebe and Kael can bring the east and the north to our side before the arrival of the prince."
She pressed her lips and pointed to several regions of the map, each trace a reminder of the complexity of the situation and the weight of the decisions she needed to make. Karna sighed, understanding the gravity of what they were facing, while Brianna remained focused, her eyes fixed on the future of the county and on the pieces she needed to move to ensure it remained safe.
Meanwhile, in the eastern territory, Phoebe was in a room, delicately holding a cup of tea. The silence was almost absolute, broken only by the light clink of the porcelain.
The door opened behind Phoebe, and a calm voice, but loaded with curiosity, sounded: "What does the 'saint' of the southern county want around here?"
Phoebe raised the cup over the table, without turning, and answered with a low and ironic voice: "I came for the tea. I appreciated each sip during these five days of waiting… now I keep thinking if I should take a little with me, to accompany me in the long hours that are still to come."
"And who would say that the saint would have so much appreciation for small pleasures" — replied the voice, with a tone that tried to mask the discomfort.
"Small pleasures, great strategies… sometimes, the difference between patience and haste is only the way one drinks the tea" — said Phoebe, pausing before adding, still ironic: "But don't worry, I know that the time here must also have been… educational for you."
The viscountess entered the room, walking with calm steps until sitting before Phoebe. "I am sorry, my husband was not here, and I didn't feel well during these five days. I hope I didn't offend you."
Phoebe slightly tilted her head, the low and serene voice, loaded with subtle irony: "I can understand. After the war of the county against the western marquisate and the death of the Count, I imagine he must be anxious to rise one more position in the nobility. Wasn't it for that that he instigated the nobles of the county?"
A silence hovered in the room. Phoebe let out a short and controlled laugh, reminding everyone that, despite being blind, her humor was sharp: "I am joking, of course."
The viscountess laughed, a light and contained sound, but genuine: "The saint has a great sense of humor."
Phoebe kept the firm tone, but continued the subtle irony: "I feel. And I take the chance to inform: the royal prince will only arrive in two months. There was a problem with the circle that links the royal capital to the county."
The viscountess arched an eyebrow, curious: "Problem, you say? I hope it is something that doesn't harm the intentions of those who wish to keep this territory under control…"
"Oh, certainly not" — answered Phoebe, with an ambiguous tone, almost provocative. "Only a small delay… but enough for some to realize that poorly calculated decisions can cost dearly."
The viscountess smiled sideways, a mix of amusement and caution: "So the saint of the southern county reminds us that even patience has its limits."
"Exactly" — answered Phoebe, almost as if speaking to herself, but audible enough to be understood. "And, let's face it, we all have limits… some only take longer to appear than others."
The viscountess slightly leaned forward, keeping the light but firm tone: "I hope the county knows how to appreciate your sense of humor, even in the most complicated days."
Phoebe let out a short, controlled laugh, and with her fingertips touched delicately the cup of tea before her: "Humor is a tool as useful as any sword or decree. And, at the moment, it is safer than some alliances that intend to be formed."
A silence fell over the room for a few seconds, interrupted only by the clink of the cup of tea that Phoebe had left on the table. The viscountess nodded, recognizing the subtlety behind Phoebe's words: there was a warning, a provocation and, perhaps, a hint of what to expect in the coming months.
"So… will we continue to play according to your rules, saint?" — she asked, with a contained smile, but attentive eyes.
"Of course" — answered Phoebe, serene, the irony still present in the cadence of her voice. "But remember: not all players have the same patience… or the same objectives."
Phoebe slowly got up and walked towards the door, the sound of the steps echoing softly through the room. The silence between them was almost palpable.
"Don't you fear suffering an accident on your way back?" — said the viscountess, interrupting the silence with a calm tone, but loaded with firmness.
Phoebe kept her posture erect, her fingers lightly resting on the doorknob, and answered, with a firm and ironic voice: "I don't worry. If there were real risk, I wouldn't have come. And I can guarantee that no local noble is prepared to deal with his wrath."
Phoebe paused, feeling the tension in the air and the slight recoil of the viscountess. A smile of irony touched her lips. Let them understand the warning without needing more explanations.
She turned the doorknob, the door opened silently and closed behind her, the steps echoing softly down the corridor.
Meanwhile, in the north, Kael was already moving along the roads, attentive to the movement of the nobles and militias that were preparing before the instability of the county.