CHAPTER 204: CHAPTER 204 – THE HOMEWARD JOURNEY AT AUTUMN’S EDGE

The first light of morning slipped through the gap in the curtains, drawing a thin golden line across the wooden floor. Sylvia opened her eyes slowly; her breathing was steady, her body lighter than the night before. For most people, this hour would be too early but to her, it felt... right. There was no drowsiness pressing down, only a soft, unhurried quiet.

She sat at the edge of the bed and let her feet sink into the warm rug. For a moment, she looked toward the balcony, the eastern sky was blushing pink, and the faint scent of dry leaves drifted in through the curtains. Winter was drawing near, and the air had that different taste: a little sharp in the nose, but clean.

She padded to the bathroom. The chill of the white tiles met her soles without disturbing the calm she’d carried from waking. At the tub, she lifted her right hand and summoned a gentle flicker of violet-black fire. The Nether Flame crept along the base, warming the water she’d left in it last night until a thin steam rose again.

Perched on the rim, she dipped a fingertip to test its warmth that wrapped rather than scalded, comfort without the bite of heat or the shock of cold. Satisfied, she slipped off her sleep mantle and stepped in.

Water murmured softly as she sank down to her shoulders. Heat seeped into her muscles, loosening what tension remained after the battle in the Tower of Echoes. She rested her head against the edge of the tub and closed her eyes.

For almost an hour she stayed like that, letting her mind wander from the Ancient Titan, to the faces of Sofia, Celes, Alicia, and Stacia. There was a faint ache of longing, but also gratitude this time, she was coming home without loss.

When the time felt enough, Sylvia rose, water streaming from her long hair. She took a thick towel and dried off, then faced the oval mirror. Her pale face looked refreshed; her red eyes had kept their familiar sharpness.

She dressed again in her black gown the fabric hugged close, equal parts elegance and readiness for a fight. The mantle went on last, though cold meant little to her. Not because she needed it, but because she liked the warmth. It was also a kind of boundary between her and the world, a layer she chose to keep, for her own reasons.

Leaving the room, she headed downstairs. The Silver Moon’s dining room was already stirring. Traders had gathered at some tables, making ready to leave; hunters chatted while checking their gear; two children in a corner were squabbling over bread.

The innkeeper greeted her with a warm smile.

"Up early, Miss Sylvia. Breakfast?"

"Of course," she answered. "What’s on?"

"Whole-grain toast, boiled eggs, a light vegetable soup, and hot herbal tea."

"I’ll have all of it."

Soon a plate of warm bread, two boiled eggs, and a steaming bowl of soup arrived. Mint-scented tea breathed gently from the cup. Sylvia ate unhurriedly, savoring the crisp crust and soft crumb, the soup’s quiet sweetness from carrot and cabbage.

There was no rush. This was the kind of calm only found on mornings like this small-town morning, before the day truly woke up.

After paying and offering a brief thanks to the owner, she stepped outside. The air bit, but cleanly. Her breath ghosted pale in front of her. The main street was still sparse; only a few vendors had opened their stalls, arranging their wares.

Sylvia passed through the town gate. The morning guard gave a simple nod, recognizing the Rank B guild card she’d shown the night before. Beyond the walls, patches of frost silvered the road, making the stony ground glitter under the early sun.

The walk to the castle would take hours, but there was no need to hurry. Each step was steady, her boots tracing faint marks over the frozen earth.

In the distance, a white glimmer rippled across the water. As she drew near, she found a broad lake, its surface partly frozen. The ice was thin, but enough to catch the sunlight and throw it back like glass.

Sylvia paused at the shore. The reflection showed a tall figure in a black gown and mantle, long hair stirring in the cold wind. She broke off a thin edge of ice, lifted it to her lips, and let the chill melt on her tongue.

The season turns, she thought. The world outside the dungeon keeps moving, even if I was trapped for days in the dark.

She moved on, passing two smaller lakes also caught in the first grip of ice. The wind grew sharper, but the sun balanced it with a touch of warmth. Once, she spotted flocks of wild ducks huddled on open patches of water, their calls threading into the landscape.

By late morning, the castle’s roofline cut the horizon a grand silhouette against a winter sky. Sylvia quickened her pace, not from fatigue but desire to be home. Celes would be waiting, likely with a stack of reports as thick as a table. And for the first time in days, she could imagine herself sitting in her study with a cup of hot tea and no Titan looming before her.

The castle gate swelled in her view as she approached. The tall gray stone walls looked sturdier than when she’d last seen them, evidence that workers and zombie sentries hadn’t idled in her absence.

On the stone bridge over the shallow moat, two zombie guards straightened with spears in hand. A faint light flickered in their empty eyes as they recognized their queen. Without a word, they struck spear butts to the ground metal on stone ringing once then stepped aside to open the way.

Inside the courtyard, the air was warmer, thanks to large braziers placed at key posts for the laborers. Patrolling zombie soldiers paused to offer a salute, then moved on with their rounds.

Sylvia crossed the yard with a grace almost at odds with the click of her high heels she’d grown used to them now. Her shadow stretched long over the paving stones, following the gentle sway of her mantle.

The great doors of the main hall yielded to a light push. Warm air greeted her, scented with woodsmoke and the faint perfume of dried flowers in decorative vases. Her footsteps whispered over marble.

In less than ten seconds, quick steps sounded down the corridor. Celes appeared like a small storm in the shape of a woman’s silver hair, a little mussed, comfortable clothes clearly thrown on in a rush.

"Sylvia!" she called, her voice a braid of relief and... a touch of scolding.

Sylvia turned casually, as if she’d only been out for an afternoon stroll. "I’m back."

Celes closed the distance at once, eyes scanning Sylvia head to toe for any sign of injury. "You’re... not hurt?"

"Nothing to worry about." Sylvia gave a tiny shrug. "Just a little tired."

Celes kept looking, eyes narrowed, unconvinced. "Tired...? You vanish for days with no word, then show up wearing that calm face? I "

Sylvia cut her off with a small, wry smile. "If I’d truly been in trouble, Alicia and Stacia would have felt it."

That stopped Celes for a heartbeat. Only a heartbeat; she drew a long breath and turned her face aside, hiding a smile that nearly surfaced. "Fine. But you’re still reporting. The scouts’ briefs have piled up, and..."

Sylvia lifted a hand to pause her. "Later. I want tea first. Hot, with a little honey."

Celes rolled her eyes, but nodded. "All right. But after that, you sit and listen to everything. Understood?"

"Mm." Sylvia’s answer was airy as she moved toward her study.

Behind her, Celes let out a long sigh this time with a hint of a curve to her lips. Outside the windows, the winter sun had already begun its lean toward the west, sending light skimming over the castle’s stone. The queen had returned, and the days ahead would again be filled with plans and steps yet to be taken.

Sylvia’s study always felt different from the rest of the castle more private, quieter, steeped in the scent of old books threaded with cinnamon from the aromatherapy candles she’d requested. Dark bookshelves lined the walls, and the large table at the room’s center was nearly swallowed by stacks of documents, rolled maps, and a few communication crystals pulsing with a muted glow.

As soon as she sank into her cushioned chair, she slipped off her mantle and hung it over the backrest, letting her shoulders relax. Moments later, Celes entered with a silver tray: a white ceramic teapot still breathing steam at the spout, a thin glass cup, and a small bowl of golden honey.

Celes poured with care, the fragrance of herbs and dried leaves unfurling into the room. "Tea from the stock you keep in your private cabinet," she said, setting the cup before Sylvia. "I even added honey, just as you asked."

Sylvia cupped the warmth, letting it seep into her palms. She took a slow sip, her red eyes half-lidded. "Mm... perfect. I needed this."

Celes took the chair across from her but in a breath, her manner shifted from attentive attendant to a general ready to brief. She drew the top file from the stack and opened it.

"First report, from the eastern watch post," she said crisply. "Wild zombie activity has doubled over the last week. They haven’t attacked, but some have approached nearby villages. A control unit has been dispatched to drive them off."

Sylvia only nodded, turning the cup between her fingers, gaze resting on the tea’s surface. "Make sure they don’t use excessive force. We don’t need to panic the locals."

"Already relayed." Celes set that sheet aside and took up the next. "Second report, from the western trade route. The caravan from Anarets arrived three days late. They claim they were attacked by human bandits, but... our scouts found signs that these weren’t ordinary bandits. There are traces of magic."

Sylvia looked up, eyes narrowing a fraction. "Magic? What kind?"

"Unclear. But the energy is broken, intermittent more like residue from a magical device than a natural caster."

Silence stretched a beat. Sylvia sipped again before speaking. "Send two people. Ones who can tell artificed magic from the real thing. If necessary, I’ll handle it myself."

Celes scribbled a note in the margin and moved on. "Lastly... from the northern post. Snow has started falling earlier than expected. Several lakes are already frozen solid. Winter supply routes will be affected."

Sylvia leaned back, her gaze drifting to the window behind Celes, where the sky was tipping into evening gold. "Mm... I saw a few lakes icing over on the way home. We should reroute before the paths are sealed under ice."

For a while, the only sounds were the tick of the wall clock and the faint chime of a spoon as Celes stirred honey into her spare cup.

At last, Celes closed the final folder and met Sylvia’s eyes. "That’s all for today. But... you still haven’t told me what happened in the Tower of Echoes."

Sylvia set her cup down, a thin smile curving her lips. "Oh, that... it’s a long one. You might want to put on another pot. And... maybe bring some biscuits. I’ll start from the beginning, but don’t blame me if it sounds more like a fairy tale than a military report."

Celes arched a brow, though the corner of her mouth lifted. "If it’s coming from you, I’m ready to hear it. Just make sure you don’t leave out any details."

The room seemed to grow warmer not only from the tea or the candlelight, but from the quiet safety slowly filling the space between them the kind that returns only when the queen has come home from a journey that went on too long.