CHAPTER 68: KARETH’S END III

Kareth staggered to his feet, the cup clattering to the ground. His face was flushed with fear more than drink.

"Wait—why? Why am I condemned? I didn’t do anything!" he shouted, voice cracking as his eyes darted around the room for support. None of the mercenaries moved. They wouldn’t dare.

Seraphina’s gaze didn’t waver.

"You did nothing when action was demanded. A knight’s oath is not only to fight, but to stand watch, to protect, to bleed before others do. You let your charge die because you chose comfort over duty."

"That’s not true!" Kareth barked, desperation clawing at his throat. "I was away, I wasn’t even there!"

But Seraphina’s hand tightened on her sword.

"The Imperial Court already summoned the Fate Mages. The threads of destiny have spoken. Your guilt is sealed—you abandoned your post. You lie now as you lied then."

Kareth’s eyes widened, his jaw trembling. The laughter and arrogance were gone, stripped bare until only terror remained. He stumbled backward, his knees shaking. "No... no, this isn’t fair. I can still serve, I can still—"

He tried to lunge toward her, not in attack but in desperate appeal, reaching for her gauntlet like a drowning man grasping at a rope.

Steel whispered in reply.

A flash of silver light cut across the tavern. For a heartbeat, silence reigned. Then came the sound—a wet, sliding note—as Kareth froze, his mouth falling open. He looked down, as though the world had betrayed him, and saw the impossible: his own headless body still standing.

His vision spun. The tavern tilted. Then darkness swallowed him as his body toppled lifelessly to the floor, the last sound the dull thud of his head rolling across the wooden boards.

Seraphina exhaled slowly, lowering her blade in one graceful motion. She didn’t gloat, didn’t sneer. She only spoke, her voice heavy with the weight of judgment.

"May the stars forgive what I could not."

Seraphina lifted her hand, and with a soft hum the air rippled. A faint star-glow shimmered around Kareth’s headless corpse. Then—whoosh—it collapsed inward on itself, flesh and bone reduced to nothing but a scattering of fine gray ash. In a blink, the tavern floor was clean, as though the man had never existed.

The ashes swirled once, caught in an unseen current, before vanishing into the cracks of the wood.

A few mercenaries jolted backward, chairs scraping loudly against the floor. One man nearly tripped over himself, clutching his chest as he gasped. Another had dropped his tankard, and the beer trickled uselessly across the floor toward the vanished remains. None dared pick it up.

They all looked at her differently now—not as a woman, not even as a knight, but as something higher, untouchable, divine and merciless.

A man near the door—voice trembling, yet trying to sound steady—bowed slightly and muttered, "Damn... As expected of the Empire. Treachery is met with death."

Others nodded quickly, their movements sharp and nervous, like chickens pecking at scattered grain. Not one of them dared to meet her eyes directly.

And in the silence that followed, the fear was louder than any blade.

***

Seraphina rode silently at Fenric’s side, her silver-starred cloak brushing against her mare’s flanks as their small entourage moved down the dusken road. Fenric sat straight-backed, one hand idly adjusting the leather satchel of documents he had been reviewing. The faint crackle of parchment almost masked the lingering scent of ash on the wind.

Without lifting his eyes from the scroll, Fenric spoke calmly, voice even:"You’ve taken care of him, then?"

Seraphina inclined her head once. "Yes, Your Highness. He will not rise again."

"Good." Fenric let the scroll roll closed with a soft snap. His gaze slid toward her. "When will upu leave then?"

Her lips pressed together, as she looked at him "kareth was sent to not only oberve you but also protect you, but now he have failed Its mine duty now" She said in her same serene tone as Fenric looked at her.

Fenric studied her quietly. The loyalty in her words was clear, yet he could feel the loyalty is not towards his bloodline but to him directly which is weird as he have never met her before.

He even didn’t have seen her before today so where this loyalty is coming from, Thanks to Duserdis blessing he can sense other emotions as easily as reading a book and he can sense she is extremely loyal to him.

’Was there an hidden connection in between Fenric and Seraphina in book?’ he thought but he couldn’t remember, aside from major things its impossible for one to remeber the whole book word by word.

Not to mention Fenric was just an somewhat strong side character so there was not much mention of him in book. But ist not an book anylonger he is living a life here, which means its no longer a perspective from the hero or villains but now all characerts have story, past , present or future.

They are not just some characters who are introduced ones and then forgotten later.

’I will search about it later’ He thought and then let it go.

"It was not the Empire alone that sent you here, was it?" he asked, voice low, sharp.

Her silence was enough of an answer.

Fenric leaned back in the chair, thoughts turning like gears. Number Twelve... officially, her deployment came with Imperial sanction. But the manner—the timing—it reeks of another hand. His mind immediately conjured one name.

The Belfrost family.

It fit too neatly. The Belfrost family’s influence stretched like roots beneath the Empire, invisible until one tripped over them. They were masters at cloaking intervention as Imperial mandate, and now—through Mavis—they had draped a cloak of protection around him.

His Master was Mavis Belfrost. By blood and bond, that alone tethered him to their house. With his talent blazing brighter each day, it was only natural that Belfrost would ensure he remained... preserved.

Fenric exhaled through his nose, expression measured. "Well," he said evenly, "I am glad you are here."

At those words, Seraphina reached across the belt, a slim bell of silver and star-etched crystal glinting faintly in her palm. She pressed it into his hand. "Then allow me to prove it."

The bell chimed faintly as his fingers closed around it, the sound carrying an almost imperceptible weight, like a ripple through unseen wards. Moments later, a figure in servant’s garb slipped into their path, bowing low.

"My Lord," the servant murmured,

Seraphina’s voice was low, commanding. "Make arrangements to lodge me near His Highness. I will remain within reach to protect him—always."

The servant’s eyes flicked between them, then lowered in obedience. He bowed to Fenric before retreating swiftly to carry out the order.

Fenric’s gaze lingered on the bell, then shifted to Seraphina. Her tone had been crisp, her words absolute, yet he noted the careful emphasis—protect him, always. It was a vow that sounded genuine, but also one that could mask a leash waiting to be tugged.

Still, he inclined his head. "Very well. Stay close, then."

Seraphina lowered her lashes, her star-bright eyes veiling a hint of satisfaction.

Fenric watched her quietly, fingers brushing the bell once more.

Seraphina lingered only long enough to ensure her orders were followed. Then, with a graceful bow and a look that revealed nothing, she excused herself. Her presence was like a star dimming—bright for a moment, then swallowed by the veil of the castle’s corridors.

Fenric exhaled, leaning back in his chair. The weight of his station pressed against him, yet it was not a burden he resented. Belfrost moved decisively, and for now, their loyalty flowed in step with his will. Allies, not rivals.

The office returned to silence, broken only by the rustle of parchment and the faint scratching of quills. Fenric’s desk was already laden with the city’s reports—grain shipments, guard rotations, tax collections, and the endless ledgers that measured the Empire’s pulse.

He picked up the nearest scroll and unrolled it with steady hands. His eyes moved across the figures, his mind already fitting them into place, weaving order from chaos. Each decision he made rippled outward—affecting merchants, guards, farmers, and nobles alike.

For a moment, he paused, gazing at the silver bell set neatly at the corner of his desk. Its polished surface caught the lantern light, gleaming faintly, as if it were not merely an ornament but a reminder. A subtle weight lingered in its shine, a quiet witness to every choice he penned in ink.

Fenric leaned forward once more, quill in hand, and resumed his work. The city would not govern itself, and as long as he held this office, its fate remained his to shape.

***

Far from the quiet order of Fenric’s office, the world breathed different air.

Aria’s boots crunched softly against broken stone as she stepped into the shattered bones of Vakrops. Once, this had been a citadel of scholars and artisans, its towers famed for reaching so high they pierced the mist. Now, only carcasses of stone remained, fractured spires clawing at a pale sky.