Chapter 90: Road to Arkania
The city’s celebrations persisted for three more days, vibrant and relentless. Bonfires flickered brightly in the squares, banners fluttered fiercely in the wind, and the royal orchestras played tirelessly from dawn until late into the night. The people of the capital, bruised, grieving, yet resilient, danced amidst the ruins of their old certainties, embracing hope and renewal.
The hero of the hour was honored, and the traitors were finally purged. For a brief, fragile moment, it seemed as though the world could be rebuilt from the ashes.
Meanwhile, inside the manor, there was no joy, only silence. A heavy quiet settled over the room, marked by the somber realization of what lay ahead.
The packing began on the second day.
Lysandra stood in her room, meticulously folding clothes, the same careful precision she’d use in combat. Her rods leaned against the wall, and her travel bag lay open on the bed. She had spent the morning sorting through the elegant gowns from the recent ceremony, debating which to keep and which to leave behind.
A knock on the door broke her concentration.
"Come in," she called without looking up.
Dominic stepped inside, carrying a small stack of documents. He placed them on her desk and leaned against the wall, watching her work.
"The academy term resumes in three weeks," he said. "After seeing Arkania, we’ll need to head to Caldmore."
Lysandra paused, her hands halting mid-fold on a tunic. "How long will we stay there?"
"Two weeks, if we want to return on time." He hesitated. "The Emperor’s people have already gone ahead, preparing the estate for us."
She looked at him, a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. "Preparing it?"
"Servants, supplies, repairs... the main house is getting ready. The Emperor wants me to arrive to a proper home."
Lysandra exhaled slowly, releasing a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. "A proper home."
"Are you alright?" Dominic asked softly.
She turned back to her packing, her movements now slower, more deliberate. "I came here as a merchant’s daughter, tagging along on a journey. I leave as a baroness. And now, there’s an estate being prepared for you, while I fold dresses and wonder about the life I’m stepping into, one I don’t quite understand yet."
Dominic observed her for a moment before crossing the room and slipping behind her. His hands settled onto her shoulders, warm and reassuring.
"You don’t have to understand everything right now," he said softly. "I don’t even understand everything either."
She exhaled slowly, her body easing under his gentle touch. "It feels like everything’s moving too fast."
"It is. But we’re moving together," he reassured her, giving her shoulders a squeeze before lowering his hands to her waist. He pulled her back against him for a brief, grounding moment. "You’re not alone in this, Lysandra."
She leaned into him briefly, then stepped away, cheeks flushing. "I know."
With a light tap on her behind, he turned and headed for the door. "Finish packing. We leave at dawn."
She watched him go, torn between irritation and a strange, unspoken emotion.
Theresa hunched over in the study, meticulously copying the most critical passages from the Harbinger’s Codex into a smaller, more portable journal. Since rescuing it from the dungeon, the book had gone by many names, but now she called it by a name that felt truer: the Harbinger’s Codex. It wasn’t merely a compilation of spells and histories; it was an ominous warning from a civilization that had already faced what was coming.
She worked with unwavering focus, aware that knowledge was a potent weapon, and that this particular knowledge had already proven deadly. The research into the corrupted heart, the origins of the lich powers, the fragments she’d deciphered from ancient scripts, all of it being distilled into a form she could carry with her.
Dominic found her there, a cup of tea growing cold beside her.
"You’ve been at this for hours," he said softly.
"I know." She didn’t glance up. "But I’m almost finished. Once we leave the capital, I won’t have access to these materials again."
"You’ll have the Collegium’s resources."
"Eventually. But until then, I need to be sure I haven’t lost anything." She completed a page, her pen moving with practiced precision.
He moved to stand behind her, leaning over to peer at the dense script. His hand rested gently on her lower back.
"Can you read it all?" he asked.
"Mostly. The rest I can translate if I have enough time." She paused and finally looked up at him. "The Harbinger’s Codex doesn’t reveal its secrets easily. But it’s starting to trust me."
"Is that what this is? Trust?"
"I believe so." She set her pen down. "It could have kept its pages sealed forever, but instead, it’s letting me copy what truly matters. That counts for something."
"Is there something you need?" she asked, turning her focus back to him.
"I’ve been thinking about Arkania. The vault. My father’s legacy." He hesitated. "The Emperor’s info said the vault is in the territory, somewhere on the old Kane lands. But it was vague. I still need to find it."
Theresa put down her pen. "You’re worried about what you might find."
"I’m worried about what I won’t find."
She reached out, her fingers gently brushing his jaw.
"Whatever’s there, we’ll face it. Together."
Dominic caught her hand and pressed a tender kiss to her palm.
"I know."
He left her to her work.
Florence stood in the courtyard, diligently brushing the Ghost Horse. The spectral steed remained serene beneath her touch, its glowing eyes half-closed with what seemed like contentment. She moved the brush with practiced, almost meditative strokes.
"It’s strange," she remarked as Dominic approached. "I fought for years in the Thalassian Empire, never imagining I’d see this old fellow again. And now, here he is, letting me groom him like a simple stable pony."
"He’s larger than any pony I’ve ever seen," Dominic noted, stopping a few paces away.
"Twice the size of any horse that ever lived," Florence confirmed, patting the stallion’s neck. "Aren’t you, you great ghost?"
The horse emitted a low, rumbling sound, almost a neigh.
"See? He agrees," Florence said with a smile.
Dominic shook his head, amused. "You’re ridiculous."
"I’m right," she replied, setting the brush down and wiping her hands on a cloth. "The horse and I are going to race the carriage to Arkania, and We’ll win."
"You’ll also scare every farmer between here and the border," Dominic replied, unimpressed.
"At least they’ll have something to talk about," Florence shot back, her grin sharp. She stepped closer, her expression softening. "You’ve been walking around like someone burdened. What’s wrong?"
"Nothing’s wrong. I’m just... thinking."
"About the vault?" she guessed.
"Among other things," he admitted.
She leaned in, her grin turning gentle. "You’ll handle it. You always do." Without warning, she kissed him, quick, fierce, and certain. "Now stop brooding. We’ve got a duchy to visit."
***
They departed from the capital at dawn, the city fading into the distance behind them. The Emperor’s provided convoy was impressive, three ornate carriages, a mounted escort, and supplies enough to sustain them twice over. It was a stark contrast to the modest rented carriage they had arrived in. Dominic stared out the window, watching the city’s spires and bustling streets diminish, his face a mask of unreadable thought.
Across from him, Florence sat with her boots resting on the seat, her gaze sharp. "You’re brooding again," she teased.
He offered a small, distracted shrug. "I’m thinking."
"Same thing," she shot back, nudging his leg with her boot. "What’s on your mind?"
He hesitated before speaking. "Arkania. The people, the vault. What we’ll find when we get there. What my father left behind."
Her expression softened. "Whatever it is, we’ll face it together. We’ve handled worse."
He didn’t respond immediately, but a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth hinted at the emergence of a smile.
***
The journey to Arkania spanned four days, battered roads still bearing the scars of the Church’s attack. More than once, they had to navigate long detours around collapsed bridges and disrupted trade routes. Despite these obstacles, the Emperor’s escort proved swift and efficient, and the carriages offered comfort amid the chaos. The company was... pleasant.
They talked eagerly, laughed freely, and debated over maps, supplies, and the best path forward. Wobbly spent most of the trip pressed against the window, its violet glow shimmering as it watched the landscape whirl past.
At night, when they paused at inns and waystations, Dominic felt a rare sense of ease, more relaxed than he had been in months.
His wounds from battle had healed, but the deep exhaustion still lingered. Still, being on the road, away from politics and ceremony, made it easier to breathe.
Theresa noticed. "You’re smiling more," she remarked one evening as they sat on a waystation’s garden wall.
"Am I?"
She nodded with a gentle smile. "It suits you."
He reached out, taking her hand, and she allowed him. Their connection felt lighter, freer, like the road itself.