Chapter 86: Talk Of The Eventual Departure.

Chapter 86

Soren stepped out of the master bedchamber, pulling the heavy oak door closed with a quiet, deliberate click. A deep frown creased his brow as he stood in the dimly lit corridor, his mind consumed by thoughts of his enigmatic wife.

From the very moment Sigrid had proposed to him so unexpectedly—standing tall with those striking crimson eyes showing not a single trace of fear, but rather a chilling, exhilarating thrill—she had been a complete anomaly. In a world where every noble spun intricate webs of deceit, Sigrid had never once lied to him. Whenever he posed a question, she answered with absolute, unyielding frankness, shrinking away from nothing. She was the polar opposite of the fragile, dull girl Orion’s initial intelligence reports had described. Most intriguing of all was the uncanny aura she possessed, moving through life as though she held precise knowledge of what the future harbored.

As Soren strode down the grand stone hallway, the sound of rhythmic footsteps announced the approach of his most trusted aide. Orion fell into step beside him, though Soren’s attention remained thoroughly tethered to his mysterious wife. "How fares the Duchess, Your Grace?" Orion asked, breaking the silence with a respectful bow of his head.

Soren kept his gaze fixed ahead. "She claims she is unharmed."

Orion hesitated slightly, searching his lord’s impassive profile. "Are you entirely certain, my lord?"

Soren replied without skipping a beat, his tone measured and firm. "That is what she stated, and I choose to believe her word."

They turned a corner, heading toward the private study, where Orion stepped inside first and turned to face his master. "My lord... do you truly believe her so blindly?"

Soren paused near the heavy mahogany desk, his dark eyes narrowing. "What exactly are you implying, Orion?"

Orion swallowed hard, visibly trembling under the sudden weight of the Duke’s commanding presence, yet he pressed forward. "My lord, I have harbored severe suspicions regarding Her Grace for quite some time, and nothing she has done has assuaged my doubts. I fear she may be a spy."

"Enough of this absurd talk, Orion," Soren commanded, his baritone voice dropping an octave.

But Orion, driven by desperate concern, shook his head. "No, my lord, hear me! The Vesper household swore she was dull, timid, and entirely unremarkable, yet the woman residing in this fortress is anything but! She is cunning, sharp, and ruthless."

Orion shuddered, vividly recalling the terrifying, predatory gaze Sigrid had fixed upon him in the past, as if he were merely a piece on a chessboard she intended to play with. "She is not ignorant. The roundabout manner in which she handles her affairs is meticulous, calculated, and planned down to the smallest detail. It is deeply disturbing how much she enjoys playing those mind games and wasting time! What if Her Majesty the Queen sent her to keep watch over your movements? They just held a private audience today!"

Soren’s expression hardened instantly into a lethal scowl. His dark blue eyes narrowed into razor-sharp slits, looking like he was radiating an oppressive aura that rendered the air in the study suffocating. "Speak another word questioning your Duchess, Orion, and I will personally sever the tongue you use to slander her,"

Soren spoke, his voice dangerously low and dripping with absolute venom. "You may hold grievances against her methods, but you shall never speak down upon her in my presence. If she chooses to indulge in mind games, then that shall be her right, and you will not dare condemn the manner in which she exacts punishment upon her enemies. Above all, she is no spy for the Crown."

Orion lowered his head immediately, dropping to one knee upon the cold stone floor, his body tense under his master’s fury. "I offer my deepest apologies for angering you, Your Grace, and for speaking ill of the Duchess. I only spoke out of deep concern for your safety above all else." Orion bowed his head in profound reverence, well aware of the endless suffering his lord had endured, particularly at the hands of the royal family.

Soren stared down at his loyal knight, the harsh edge in his gaze slowly receding into a grim, dark solemnity. "I am aware of your loyalty, Orion, and that devotion is the sole reason you still draw breath. But do not make such a foolish mistake again. Her proposal was unexpected, yes, and her nature is unusual, but I assure you she is no agent of the Queen. She has never uttered a single falsehood to me... and she harbors a profound hatred for the royal family, particularly Prince Ragnar. To be a spy for the Queen."

Orion gasped softly, lifting his head in surprise. Soren turned his back, gazing out toward the dark horizon beyond the tall leaded windows. Yes, Soren thought silently to himself, I recognized that burning hatred the moment I saw her look upon the imperial crest. It was a venom that mirrored his own hatred for Ragnar, though he remained entirely ignorant of her personal reasons, just as she remained unaware of his own deep-seated vendetta against the prince. It was better that way; he would not allow her to be dragged down into his personal hell.

Soren cleared his throat, steering the conversation back to their military preparations. "Have you initiated the expanded training regimen for the newly mustered soldiers?"

Orion stood up swiftly, brushing off his uniform. "Yes, my lord. Everything stands prepared for the grand design. Though... if I may ask, why do you insist on waiting? You possess the military strength and resources to launch the offensive now. Why wait until Prince Ragnar’s eventual coronation?"

Soren’s eyes turned icy as he stared at the blank stone wall. "Because he alone is deserving of the grand destruction I have prepared."

Orion’s face twisted in pained conflict. "But that is not entirely true, my lord! Queen Evelyn is just as complicit in those past atrocities, and you know it well!"

Soren’s voice dropped into a dark, solemn murmur. "Yes, she is. But striking at her directly implicates the King and destabilizes the realm prematurely."

Orion pressed his lips together, his voice laced with suppressed anguish. "He is guilty as well! Every single soul residing within that cursed palace shares the blame!"

Soren remained silent for a long, heavy moment, the shadows of the study swallowing his towering figure. "My judgment is absolute. Ragnar’s coronation shall be the arena. The rest are secondary."

Orion bowed his head in resignation. "As you command, my lord."

Soren glanced back at his knight. "Have you established contact with the foreign envoys regarding the contingency plans?"

Orion nodded immediately. "We have successfully secured a safe haven across the border for the Duchess on that fateful day, ensuring she will have immediate passage and complete asylum."

Soren’s expression softened faintly with relief. "Good. She shall not be forced to suffer the consequences of my choices."

Orion hesitated, looking at his lord with genuine confusion. "My lord... if you knew from the beginning that you would eventually leave her behind to meet your end, why did you ever agree to this marriage alliance in the first place?"

Soren went quiet, his mind wandering back to the night Sigrid had walked to where he sat with that bold proposal. "She looked desperate," Soren said softly.

Orion blinked in surprise. "What?"

"She looked like someone desperately seeking a way to break her chains, to alter a dark fate," Soren explained, his tone reflective.

Orion hummed thoughtfully. "Understandably so, my lord. Her life under Count Vesper’s roof was notoriously dreadful."

Soren shook his head faintly. "It was not merely her family. It was something far deeper than simple domestic misery... something ancient and heavy." He had seen it clearly when he looked deep into her crimson eyes that night. Beneath their striking brilliance lay a shadowed pool of desperation... and an aching, profound loneliness.

Orion let out a soft sigh. "The Duchess will undoubtedly be devastated by your eventual departure. You two have grown remarkably close in such a short span of time."

Soren remained quiet for a beat, a faint, bitter smile touching his lips. "We have, haven’t we? It brings a sense of guilt to my heart, leaving her like this... but her future is secured, and my death will serve as compensation for leaving her alone in this world."

Orion looked at his master solemnly, his voice dropping into a grave, earnest warning. "Then, my lord... I truly hope you do not allow yourself to fall in love with her. If you do, the pain will be unbearable, and you will no longer be prepared to embrace your end."

Soren let out a dry, cynical chuckle that lacked any warmth. "That is an utter impossibility for a monster like me." Internally, however, a sharp pang of irony pierced his heart as he remembered his own words to Sigrid, where he had foolishly preached that every soul deserved warmth and affection.

Clearing his mind of the hypocrisy, Soren straightened his posture and adopted his usual commanding demeanor. "Enough of these idle distractions. Have you briefed the commanders regarding the upcoming winter campaign?"

Orion straightened up, nodding professionally. "Yes, Your Grace. The logistics, winter gear, and supply lines are already being organized according to your specifications."

"Good," Soren stated firmly. "Though the Kingdom of Engrosia remains weakened from their conflict with Noravelle, their southern division remains a formidable force. We must execute this campaign swiftly and return without delay." He turned back to the window, his voice dropping into a barely audible whisper as he stared out into the falling snow. "I cannot leave Sigrid unguarded for too long."