CHAPTER 82: CHAPTER 81. PREPARATION

In Eisenwald & Wyndham

Gerhard managed to return to the South safely. After months of uncertainty, betrayal, and after running from the constant weight of imperial eyes after he decided to resigned from his position, he finally rode across the familiar soil of Eisenwald.

The wind that met his face smelled like home, pine, damp earth, and the faint scent of steel from the forges that lined the southern valleys. His heart, once heavy with doubt, eased when he saw the familiar banners of the Borgia and Wyndham Knights waiting for him at the crossroads.

They greeted him not as a fugitive, but as an ally, a man who had kept his faith even when the world turned against him. The Grand Duke’s banner fluttered in the distance, and for the first time in years, Gerhard smiled. Roxanne de Borgia had kept her word. She had promised him safety, and she had delivered.

And as the empire stirred into confusion, the chaos only deepened.

It began when the royal guards finally reached Ashenhold Tower, a fortress of stone that once held both Anton and Sarah Wyndham under imperial "protection." The guards approached with caution, finding the front gate strangely quiet, the usual sentries nowhere in sight. Then they saw the tower guards, death, sprawled across the courtyard like discarded dolls.

When they finally gained entry, the sight that greeted them froze them in place. The prison cells were empty. Two of the tower guards had been locked inside, their mouths stuffed with their own uniforms to silence their cries. The lock was sealed from the outside. Someone had planned this escape perfectly.

By the time the emperor heard the report, it was far too late.

Anton and Sarah Wyndham, Borgia’s loyal supporter and Erengard strongest knights, were gone. The imperial court erupted into chaos. Orders were shouted, knights dispatched, and the shadow knights were deployed in secret. But all they found were trails gone cold and witnesses too terrified or too loyal, to speak.

The emperor’s fury grew worse when he learned that Gerhard de Eisenwald can’t be found anywhere in the capital. His estate in the capital was abandoned, its gates wide open, its halls eerily silent. Not a single servant, guard, or maid remained. The stables were empty, the hearths cold. It was as if the entire household had vanished overnight.

"What trickery is this?" the emperor roared, his hand slamming against the throne’s armrest. But there’s no answer. Even the shadow knights couldn’t trace where the chancellor had gone.

Meanwhile, deep in the South, life began to stir again. Eisenwald’s walls welcoming the Duke to back to his territory. The familiar banners of black and gold fluttered high above the city gate. The moment he crossed the threshold, the soldiers stationed there dropped to one knee, saluting their long-absent lord.

"My lord," said one of the captains, voice shaking slightly. His eyes widened as he recognized the man who rode at the head of the column.

Gerhard smiled faintly, exhaustion and pride mingling behind his calm gaze. "Open the gate for our allies," he said, still strict.

The captain hesitated for half a heartbeat, then raised his hand and signaled the guards atop the wall. The heavy iron gate began to creak open, its hinges groaning in protest. Dust and the scent of oil filled the air.

The soldiers who manned the gate of Eisenwald looked down in disbelief. Their eyes darted from the black-and-gold banner of Eisenwald to the two others that followed close behind, the banner of Borgia, and the banner of Wyndham. For as long as they remembered, those banners had never ridden together with their lord.

The Borgia and Wyndham houses are famously known for their disloyalty to the emperor. In fact, they’re the thorns that the imperial court could never quite pull out. And yet here they’re, riding beside Gerhard de Eisenwald, the duke who had once been the empire’s most faithful servant.

Behind him, the Borgia and Wyndham banners followed, marking the first time in history that two powerful houses which are always on the Duke’s opposition, are now moved together as one. Word spread quickly through the villages and cities, maybe this time the South can be free from the emperor’s greedy grip.

While back in the Wyndham estate, Anton and Sarah Wyndham reached their estate after running for a week straight, escorted by a battalion of loyal knights who had risked everything to bring them home.

Morwenna de Erengard is the one who greeted them, making Anton and Sarah quickly bow in front of the princess they swear their loyalty upon. Morwenna didn’t say much, only told them to listen to Ian and Rose and move forward from there.

Inside the great hall of Wyndham, Ian and Rose knelt before their parents. The young alpha siblings had held the territory in their absence, keeping the people safe, training the knights, and managing the flow of supplies to the border.

"We’ve secured the defenses, Father," Ian reported, his voice firm despite the emotion in his eyes. "And sent two thousand knights north to aid the Borgia forces, as agreed."

Anton rested a hand on his son’s shoulder. "You’ve done well, my boy."

Meanwhile, Sarah turned to her daughter, pride softening her gaze. "You’ve kept Wyndham standing."

Rose smiled, blinking back tears. "Mother, we only did what we must. The Wydnham doesn’t bow to the emperor, we stay loyal to the North." And she’s right.

Now that Roxanne had finally agreed to move, not as a mere defender of the North but as a conqueror of the continent, the winds across the continent began to shift. The superior alpha had risen, and with her rise came the fall of old loyalties.

The Wyndham would never bow again, not to the empire, not to its weak emperor. They had lived long enough under imperial shadow, watching their lands taxed and their people sent to wars they didn’t believe in.

Anton had already given his word. He would lead his knights to march back to the imperial city. Alongside them would ride five hundred of the Borgia’s finest knights, under the command of Red Vossler, Roxanne’s most trusted aide, a man known for his ruthless precision and loyalty, the demon and werewolf mixed blood. Together, they would make camp near the capital’s borders, awaiting their lord’s return from Gorhal, where Roxanne would soon face the Beast King in honorable combat.

Their task is simple: hold the lines, secure the escape routes from the capital, and prepare for the storm that would come. Because when Roxanne returned, victorious, they would march forward to take the throne from Dietrich de Erengard.

In the imperial capital, however, the winds carried a different scent.

Within the halls of Erengard Palace, Emperor Dietrich de Erengard raged like a crazy beast. His voice echoed down the corridors, sharp and venomous. Servants scattered at his approach, ministers cowered behind their papers, and guards dared not meet his gaze. He smashed goblets, tore through maps, and demanded news that would not come.

Reports trickled in too slowly, and each one brought worse tidings: Eisenwald had gone silent, its banners withdrawn from the capital. Wyndham had declared out loud their loyalty to the Grand Duke of Borgia officially, their estates sealed. And in the North, strange sightings, armies moving, banners raised, whispers of a woman whose eyes burned red beneath her helm.

Dietrich refused to believe it. He called it rebellion. Treason. Madness. But deep inside, beneath the fury and denial, a sliver of fear took root, because he knew the name that once haunted the imperial court. The one his father warned him never to provoke.

Roxanne de Borgia.