Chapter 97: It Was Truly a Wonderful Night
After exiting the dampness of the dungeons, Ulrich stepped out into the cool morning air of the courtyards. Meera and the hulking Edmar followed closely in his wake.
"That was quite a unique method of negotiating, Count Rubenhart," Meera said, a sly smile curling on her lips.
Ulrich certainly possessed no talent for comforting words or offering genuine second chances. But he was a master at tearing someone down, using their own lingering guilt as a blade against them.
He had perfectly weaponized Shana’s regrets. Meera did not doubt for a second that the broken witch would accept the role now.
Shana would see teaching the three sisters as a path to redemption, driven by the resentment Ulrich had just planted against her own Coven. As expected, it was easier to manipulate a woman who had been imprisoned underground for two long years.
"But would you really trust a broken prisoner with your precious little witches?" Meera asked, stepping neatly to match his long strides.
"I trust in her fear," Ulrich replied. "She knows exactly what will happen if she ever tries to cross me again."
"You are so hot when you act so cruel," Meera sighed.
She lunged forward to wrap her arms around his arm again, but Ulrich deftly shifted his weight, sidestepping her completely so she grasped only empty air.
Meera simply chuckled at the rejection. "But truly, is she in a stable enough state of mind to teach these girls anything of value?"
Ulrich remained silent for a moment, pondering the risk.
Perhaps she was not entirely stable. She would undoubtedly need time to recover her wits. But calling upon a different witch from the outside was out of the question.
"Do you think any free witch would ever accept a summons from me?" He asked.
"Oh, definitely not," Meera answered without hesitation. "I know a few witches myself, and they despise the ground you walk on."
She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "If you invited one, they would only pretend to accept your offer. Then, they would try to assassinate you in your sleep and steal the girls away."
She tilted her head, her bright eyes filled with curiosity. "Anna-Maria’s daughters, as you call them... are they truly that important?"
"They are," Ulrich replied, offering no further explanation.
"Is that the reason you adopted them?" She asked.
"What else." Ulrich said.
"Right. For what else would the infamous, witch-hating Count Rubenhart adopt three witches into his own home?" Meera nodded. "But after two years of playing father, what do you actually feel for them?"
Ulrich shot her a sideways glance but kept his mouth shut.
"You have surely antagonized a great deal of the nobility by taking them in, haven’t you?" She pushed, refusing to let the silence win.
"You should be far more concerned about your own affairs," Ulrich replied, cleanly deflecting the interrogation.
"Oh, I am doing wonderfully," Meera laughed, her tone brightening. "Since you paid me that mountain of gold, I have purchased a beautiful new ship. My crew is beyond happy."
She flashed him a wide grin. "And, of course, you offered us those lovely privileges."
The greatest reward Ulrich had given her was not the gold but an official writ of authorization bearing the Rubenhart seal.
Until now, Meera and her crew had been working as illegal scavengers. They sailed treacherous, forbidden waters, stepping onto uncharted islands where they had no legal right to drop anchor.
While the Kingdom’s royal navy was often too preoccupied with larger wars to hunt down every scavenger, the threat of capture was always looming.
If a provincial lord or a royal patrol caught them, it meant the seizure of their ship and a lifetime rotting in a lightless prison cell. Meera herself had narrowly escaped the Kingdom’s galleons on more than one occasion.
But now, she held Ulrich’s official writ. On paper, her vessel was now considered a sanctioned mercenary ship operating under the direct authority of the Rubenhart Estate.
Ulrich had essentially handed her complete legitimacy and safety.
With that wax seal in her possession, she and her crew could finally sail the seas without constantly looking over their shoulders for the Kingdom’s sails.
"I told you to avoid drawing unnecessary attention for as long as possible," Ulrich said.
"That will be rather difficult given the dangerous duties you assign me," Meera replied. "And I have no intention of giving up the sea."
She drew a boundary right there. She was more than willing to help the Count, and she genuinely loved the thrill of being entangled in his dark affairs. Her life had grown much more exciting since they met.
But the ocean was her true home. She would never stop riding the untamed waters.
Ulrich stopped walking and looked down at her. That was not what he had meant at all.
"Just do not get yourself killed in some pathetic, avoidable way," he clarified.
Over the past two years, he had tested her. He had fed her dummy requests and demanding tasks, carefully measuring both her loyalty and her capability.
And she had exceeded his expectations in every single domain. It was only after confirming her professionalism that he had finally pulled her into the fold, making her an important piece in his grander plans.
Yet, a question still lingered in his mind. He did not know why a woman this capable, powerful, and eye-catching had never once been mentioned in the original novel.
One of the most logical conclusions was that she was supposed to die long before the story’s true beginning.
He could not allow that to happen now that he had included her in his plans.
Hearing the rare sliver of genuine caution in his voice, Meera smiled warmly. She stepped close and finally managed to loop her arm through his.
"Are you actually concerned about me, Ulrich?" She teased, peering up at him through her long lashes.
Ulrich merely glanced down at her.
"I am serious. Do not get yourself killed," he repeated.
She smiled again, a softer, more genuine expression this time, and took a step back to release his arm.
Ulrich stopped as well, the gravel crunching softly beneath his boots.
"Then it is finally time for me to depart, unfortunately," she sighed.
She pinched the edges of her elegant gown, lifting the fabric slightly to offer him a graceful curtsy.
"I had a truly wonderful night with you, Count Rubenhart. Hopefully, it will be only the first of many we share in the future."
Before he could offer a sarcastic reply, she closed the distance between them with a quick step.
Instinctively, Ulrich raised his hands, his large palms coming to rest on the curve of her hips as she leaned against his chest.
She pressed her lips to his. It was a gentle, lingering kiss, different from the fierce, sensual hunger she usually displayed behind closed doors.
"It was truly a wonderful night," she whispered against his mouth, her breath warm in the morning chill air.
Taking a step back, she spun on her heel. She reached up to adjust the brim of her large, feathered hat, throwing a playful wink over her shoulder.
"Let’s go, Edmar. Let us hope those idiots haven’t started a tavern brawl in New Ruben," she called out to her second.
She had left her rowdy crew drinking in one of the most expensive inns in the newly built city, with strict warnings to behave themselves.
They could be rough and violent, but her men were not stupid. They knew they were drinking in Ulrich’s territory, funded by his coin.
More importantly, they knew exactly how the ruthless Count would react if they dared to displease him in his own city.
Ulrich stood in the morning air, silently watching Meera’s silhouette and Edmar’s towering frame disappear into the shadows of the estate grounds.
Only when the crunch of their boots completely faded did he finally turn his back to the courtyard. Stepping through the stairs entrance of his estate, he stepped inside.
"My Lord." Fabian’s polite voice rang out then as he stood there ready for anything.
"Get my bath ready, Fabian," Ulrich said, feeling the foul residue of dark magic and dried blood still clinging to his skin.
The elderly butler offered a respectful bow and swiftly departed toward the Ulrich’s quarters to make the preparations.
Instead of ascending the grand staircase to his office as he normally would, Ulrich found his feet carrying him elsewhere. He wandered slowly back into the living hall.
He sank down onto the very same couch where Meera had treated his wounds moments ago.
Resting his hand against the ornate wooden armrest, he leaned his head back against the cushions. He let his gaze drift upward, staring blankly at the painted ceiling.
Several quiet minutes passed before the soft, hesitant patter of footsteps broke the quietness.
Hermione and Esther stood at the edge of the hall, shifting nervously. Ulrich heard them, but he kept his head tilted back, waiting for them to speak first if they wished so.
"Um... Lord Ulrich..." Esther called out timidly.
Ulrich finally lowered his gaze, his crimson eyes fixing on the two young girls.
Hermione immediately looked away the moment his piercing stare met hers. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, stepping slightly in front of her younger sister in a defensive posture.
"W—We wanted to thank you," Hermione muttered. "For helping Airam."
Ulrich simply offered an imperceptible nod, accepting the thanks before slowly raising his gaze back to the ceiling.
The silence stretched on, making Esther fidget. Assuming Ulrich was stressed about their upcoming debut in high society, she took a brave step forward.
"I—If Lord Ulrich is worried about next week, we will not disappoint you!" Esther blurted out, her small hands balling into determined fists.
She knew the royal ceremony in the capital was an important event. Ulrich was going to officially introduce them to the Kingdom’s nobility, and she wanted him to know they would not ruin his reputation.
Ulrich remained silent for a long moment, letting her earnest, childish promise hang in the air.
"I know," he finally replied, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. "You will not disappoint me."
Esther’s face brightened instantly. Her anxious expression bloomed into a radiant, sunlit smile. Bursting with sudden motivation, she spun around and skipped off down the hall, already eager to practice her etiquette for the capital on her own.
Hermione turned on her heel to follow her younger sister. But halfway through the motion, she abruptly stopped.
She pivoted back toward Ulrich. Her arms crossed even tighter than before, and an inquisitive, embarrassed frown tugged across her lips.
"A—Anyway, who was that woman?" She asked, attempting to sound indifferent but failing to hide her burning curiosity.
"..."
Ulrich slowly lowered his gaze back to Hermione. He did not say a single word. He simply stared down at her with an unreadable expression.
Meeting his stare, Hermione froze completely. A furious blush immediately flooded her pale cheeks as she realized her own words.
"N—Nothing!" She squeaked in a panic. She spun around and sprinted down the corridor as fast as her legs could carry her, leaving Ulrich alone in the quiet hall.
