Chapter 388| The Answers Might—Just Might—Be Worth Digging For

?The morning mist hung low over the main gates of the Iron Empire’s capital.

?Watchtowers stood gray and imposing in the distance, nearly swallowed by the thick factory smog that hadn’t settled since the night before. The air was cold, damp, and reeked of coal.

?Selene halted right in front of the massive iron gates. Her navy-blue cloak was wrinkled and stained with dirt, her silver hair plastered to her temples with sweat. She hadn’t slept a wink since leaving the Eastern Mountains.

?Behind her, Yara limped forward, helping to drag a thin stretcher made of ice. Her blistered right hand trembled under the weight. Lieur trailed further back, his head bowed, too terrified to meet the eyes of the two gate guards standing rigidly with steam rifles slung across their chests.

?Rumina lay motionless on the stretcher. Her face was deathly pale. The whip lashes across her back were still wrapped in makeshift bandages.

?"Identification," one of the guards demanded flatly.

?"I am Selene, an envoy of Luminara. Part of the Northreach delegation," Selene replied.

?The guard exchanged a glance with his partner. The name Northreach was clearly familiar, but the exact status of that delegation was still firmly in the gray zone—they could be prisoners, guests, or disposable political pawns at a moment’s notice.

?"I need to speak with Princess Anastasia. Now," Selene continued.

?The guard let out a short scoff. "You think the Third Princess can be summoned just like that, Witch?"

?"I have intel on the rebel territories in the east," Selene said, her voice never rising. "If you won’t report this, I’ll find my own way in."

?The guard stared at her for a long moment, then spun around and marched briskly toward the guardhouse behind the gate.

?Time crawled. Yara began to sway, her knees buckling under her own weight. Lieur remained looking down, utterly frozen. Selene was just weighing the odds of forcing her way inside—when crisp footsteps echoed from beyond the iron bars.

?Anastasia Velthorne stepped out from the gate’s shadow.

?Her dark-gray uniform was impeccably sharp. A black wolf-pelt mantle was draped over her left shoulder. Her dark hair was pinned into a flawless updo, not a single strand out of place. She stopped three paces away from Selene.

?Her icy gray eyes flicked down to the stretcher, scanning Rumina’s lifeless form. Then, they snapped back up, locking onto Selene.

?"Explain," she commanded. No greetings.

?"We were attacked at the frontier military outpost," Selene said. "Rumina was abducted. Tortured."

?"By whom?"

?"Dwarves. A radical faction on the eastern border. Led by a man named Grendel."

?Anastasia’s jaw tightened imperceptibly. "Why is she with you? Why isn’t she at the outpost?"

?"The outpost was destroyed."

?"Who destroyed it?"

?Selene paused. "It’s complicated. The outpost was attacked by the Dwarves. But we don’t know for sure who struck first."

?Anastasia stared at her. Something shifted behind those glacial eyes—calculating, weighing the odds.

?"I could order the guards to arrest all of you right now," she said. "No one would bat an eye."

?"I know," Selene replied calmly. "But I came here because we have nowhere else to go. And you’re the only one here with access to the medical facilities needed to save her life."

?Anastasia shifted her gaze back to Rumina. She stood in silence, studying the vicious whip marks peeking out from the crude bandages. Her face was an unreadable mask.

?"Take her to the clandestine ward," she finally ordered. Then, she turned back to Selene. "But you’re going to tell me everything. From the beginning. Leave nothing out."

?They walked side by side down the desolate city streets.

?A few early-shift workers trudged toward the factories, none of them daring to spare a glance at the passing group.

?"I will help her, and I’ll guarantee her safety," Anastasia reiterated without looking back. "But you will tell me everything. What happened in the rebel territory. Why you returned without the others. And what exactly you people are hiding."

?"I’m not hiding anything," Selene said.

?Anastasia offered a faint, cynical smile. "Everyone is hiding something. The only question is how big it is."

?They passed through the inner gates, walking past sentries who watched them with a mix of confusion and suspicion. Anastasia gave a brief nod to a guard stationed at a small steel door embedded in the side of a wall. The door swung open without a single question asked.

?The building behind it was low and virtually windowless, tucked away behind gray stone walls. There was no signboard. No main entrance facing the street.

?Inside, the corridors were narrow and sterile, bathed in the dim yellow glow of vapor lamps. There were no groans of suffering patients. Just the constant, low hum of machinery.

?A doctor greeted them without asking questions. He took one look at Rumina’s condition, nodded, and immediately ordered two nurses to rush the stretcher into a trauma room.

?Selene, Yara, and Lieur were ushered into a cramped waiting room—equipped with hard wooden benches, an iron table, and a single low-hanging lightbulb.

?Anastasia paused at the doorway. "The wounds are deep, but there’s no severe infection. She will live."

?She fixed her eyes on Selene. "Now, talk."

?Inside the treatment room, the doctor peeled away the bloody rags from Rumina’s back.

?Anastasia stood at the threshold, watching from a distance.

?The lash marks were deep and jagged, slashing diagonally from her shoulder blades down to her waist. Some had scabbed over into a sickly, silvery-black crust. Others were still weeping fresh blood. The surrounding skin was severely bruised, swollen, and mildly infected with sulfurous soot.

?The doctor cleaned the lacerations meticulously. Rumina didn’t move or make a sound. But Anastasia noticed Rumina’s right hand gripping the bedsheets so tightly her knuckles had turned stark white.

?Anastasia stepped inside. She stood beside the bed, getting a closer look at the carnage. Her icy eyes were no longer indifferent. Something flickered within them—disappointment, quiet fury, or perhaps a lingering sense of shame.

?"What was used to do this?" Anastasia asked the doctor, her voice dangerously low.

?"A metal-fiber whip. Military issue," the doctor replied without looking up. "But this wasn’t an official reprimand. There are far too many strikes. This was pure, unadulterated torture."

?Anastasia clenched her fists at her sides. Her jaw set like stone. She didn’t say another word. She just stood there, burning those scars into her memory, until the doctor finished applying fresh bandages.

?Selene sat on the wooden bench. Yara slumped beside her, utterly drained. Lieur huddled in the corner, staring at the floor.

?Anastasia stood in the center of the room, right beneath the lone light bulb. Her shadow stretched long and sharp across the floor.

?Selene began her recounting. She detailed their mission into the rebel territory. The brutal fight against the Wyvern at the frontier outpost. And crossing paths with the Dwarven King in the underground city.

?Anastasia raised a hand, cutting her off. "The Dwarven King? You met him in person?"

?"Yes."

?"He’s still alive?"

?"He is. And he wants peace."

?Anastasia fell silent. Her eyes narrowed as she processed the intel. For years, the Dwarven King had been nothing more than a myth in intelligence briefings—an entity whose existence was never truly confirmed. And now, an envoy from Luminara was sitting right in front of her, claiming she had just spoken to the man himself.

?"Continue," she finally said.

?Selene resumed. She talked about the fragile prospect of peace that had just begun to take root. How the outpost was attacked the moment they left. How Rumina was abducted. And the savage whipping she endured.

?Then, she stopped.

?"That’s as far as I was involved," Selene admitted. "After that, I brought Rumina straight here. I don’t know what happened next."

?Anastasia listened without interrupting. Her face remained a mask of indifference, but her eyes darted slightly, piecing the puzzle together.

?"So you have no idea if they succeeded," she noted.

?"I believe they did."

?"Believing is not the same as knowing."

?Selene didn’t answer.

?Anastasia stepped back into the center of the room, stopping directly beneath the harsh light. "I’ve read the red archives," she stated. "I know about Project Legion. I know about the betrayal. I know the history I’ve been spoon-fed my entire life is incomplete."

?She looked Selene dead in the eye.

?"But that doesn’t mean I trust any of you."

?"I’m not asking for your trust," Selene retorted.

?Anastasia walked toward the door. "I will make sure Rumina receives the best care. But the three of you aren’t leaving this room until I’m finished with my questions."

?"Are you holding us prisoner?" Selene asked.

?"I’m protecting you," Anastasia corrected. "From people who might want you dead before you can open your mouths."

?The heavy steel door clicked shut behind her.

?Rumina fluttered her eyes open.

?The gray stone ceiling above her was completely unfamiliar. Her back was screaming in agony. Every shallow breath sent waves of sharp, stabbing pain radiating through her ribs.

?She tried to sit up. She failed.

?"Don’t move," Selene warned, sitting on a wooden stool beside the bed.

?"Where am I?" Rumina’s voice was hoarse and broken.

?"A ward. In the Iron Empire’s capital. You’re safe."

?Rumina went quiet for a moment. "Rianor?"

?Selene hesitated, a fraction of a second too long. "Still in the Dwarven territory. With Riven and the others."

?Rumina closed her eyes. Her breathing was heavy and ragged, but no tears fell. Perhaps she had none left to shed, or perhaps she simply refused to let them fall.

?"I have to go back," she gritted out.

?"You’re not healed."

?"I can’t just lie here." Rumina forced her voice to remain steady. "They’re out there. They could be dead. They could be dying. And I’m just here, resting in a bed."

?"You’re here because you were practically a corpse," Selene cut in, her tone gentle but uncompromising. "If you force yourself to go back now, you’ll be nothing but a burden to them. And you know it."

?Rumina didn’t argue. She stared up at the blank ceiling, her jaw clenched tight.

?Out in the corridor, Anastasia stood just beyond the treatment room’s door.

?She leaned against the wall, her hands curled into fists so tight her knuckles blanched white. Her eyes were fixed on the opposite wall, though she wasn’t truly looking at it.

?She had heard everything. Every word Selene spoke. Every broken sentence from Rumina.

?Her own words felt hollow now. Something was fundamentally rotten within this Empire. A web of lies far deeper than she had ever imagined. And now she knew—the Dwarves, the monsters she had been taught to view as the ultimate threat, might not be the real enemy after all.

?Rapid footsteps approached her. An Inquisition guard stopped in front of her, delivering a stiff salute.

?"A report, Lady Anastasia."

?"Speak."

?"General Grigori is mobilizing his forces. Four divisions. They’ve been marching east since dawn."

?Anastasia straightened her posture. Her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.

?"East? To the rebel territories?"

?"Yes, My Lady."

?"On whose orders?"

?The guard hesitated for a split second. "The report states... it was at the behest of Crown Prince Adrian."

?Anastasia went dead silent. The hands she had been clenching in fury now hung loosely at her sides.

?Crown Prince Adrian. Grigori. Four divisions. Marching east.

?Heading straight to where Riven and the others were.

?To the very place Rumina had just been rescued from.

?She turned her head toward the treatment room. Rumina’s weak but impossibly stubborn voice could still be faintly heard through the steel.

?"Continue your surveillance," Anastasia ordered the guard. "Report their every move. And make absolutely sure no one knows you’re reporting to me."

?The guard bowed deeply and hurried off.

?Anastasia closed her eyes for a brief moment. Foolish, she thought. Too curious for your own good.

?She opened her eyes, shot one last glance at the door, and then turned on her heel, striding away down the corridor.

?Her questions were still unanswered. But for the first time since she cracked open the red archives, she felt like the answers might—just might—be worth digging for.

?And Grigori was marching right toward the very place those answers were buried.