Chapter 135: Chapter 1
“Is Sejuleu Aren in Louivell?” said Riftan, lightly shaking the man’s outstretched hand.
Grand Duke Druik Aren’s smile faded as he nodded gravely. “He has gathered the scattered coalition army and is fighting the trolls.”
“How many reinforcements have come?”
“Including you and your knights, a total of three thousand five hundred men. A thousand five hundred sent by the Royal House of Wedon, and two thousand sent by Balto. All of them left for the battlefield as soon as they arrived.”
“What about the Temple Knights? Have they not yet arrived?”
“The knights sent by Osiriya are traveling by land, so it appears it’s taking them some time to get here.”
The duke rode up next to Riftan and turned his horse around.
“We should head to the palace first. We have prepared a welcoming ceremony for the Remdragon Knights.”
Riftan shook his head. “I do not wish to waste time. We’ve had more than enough rest on the ship. I intend to stop by the basilica to make preparations and depart immediately for Louivell.”
“Impatient as always, I see.” The duke sighed. “If that is your wish, then I shall escort you to the basilica.”
With a wave of his hand, the Livadonian knights turned their horses in unison and began crossing the road. The crowd gathered around them split in half, opening a path for them.
Making sure not to stray from the line, Maxi followed the Remdragon Knights. Laurel trees and stone buildings lined the flagstone road. They reached the basilica, situated in a large square with a well, after quite some time. Wide stone steps led up to the entrance.
Stopping at the foot of the stairs, Duke Aren gave the Remdragon Knights a brief orientation.
“This is the grand basilica. There is a refuge for pilgrims behind the church to the right; the guardhouse is to the left. Rooms for the knights have been prepared behind the guardhouse.”
The ancient basilica was a magnificent structure of rough-hewn yet elegant architecture. It seemed to radiate tranquility, and Maxi gazed up at it in awe. Six ivory pillars supported a large, jade-colored dome engraved with the images of Darian the Monarch, the first emperor of Roem, and Wigrew surrounded by the first twelve knights. Their protector, the Holy Dragon, was also engraved.
Maxi was staring at the strikingly detailed carvings when Ulyseon cautiously addressed her.
“My lady, please allow me to help you dismount.”
Maxi quickly lowered her gaze. Riftan and the knights were already walking toward the stairs.
She hastily dismounted with Ulyseon’s assistance. When she climbed the stairs, she saw clerics dressed in monastic habits hurrying out of the basilica.
Rem appeared anxious by the unfamiliar place, and Maxi gently reassured her before handing the reins to a cleric. The rest of the campaign party had already handed over their horses and had entered the church. Maxi hurried up the stairs after them.
Unlike conventional churches, there was something sensuous about Livadon’s basilica. Murals painted in the ancient style covered the arched ceiling, and colorful streams of light poured in through the towering stained-glass windows.
In contrast, the habits of the clerics were markedly humble. They wore coarse, floor-length robes of dark brown, cinched at the waist with straw.
An old cleric who appeared to be the most senior among them stepped forward to greet Riftan and Duke Aren.
“We welcome you to the sanctuary of our God.”
“These are honored guests who have come to aid Livadon. Would the church allow them to stay in its care until they depart for Louivell?”
The cleric’s cloudy, light blue eyes flickered to Riftan and the Remdragon Knights. “Of course. We shall welcome them with all honors. Please feel free to ask for anything you might need.”
“We will not trouble you long. If you could provide us with enough provisions and a hierarch who could accompany us to Louivell, we will depart with haste.”
The old cleric stared into Riftan’s eyes before slowly nodding his head. He then whispered something to the cleric on his right, and the man promptly rushed out toward the back garden.
“We shall summon two hierarchs for you at once, as well as supply you with the provisions you need.”
“And we shall help you resupply and mend your weapons. Three hundred of Livadon’s best will be accompanying you to Louivell,” said Duke Aren, pointing to the knights waiting outside the basilica. “You must be tired from the journey, so leave all the preparations to us and try to unwind.”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the clerics parted and swiftly led the party to the back. They stepped outside an arched doorway into a spacious garden bathed in sunlight, and then through a lush pomegranate orchard.
They walked along the stone walls of the courtyard for some time before a pale gray building surrounded by thick trees came into view.
The party followed the clerics into the shaded building and entered a huge room with a loft. It seemed spacious enough to accommodate at least eight hundred people.
“This is where we allow pilgrims to rest. We shall bring you your meals shortly, so please settle down and rest.”
When the clerics left the room, the knights let out long sighs. Some slumped into the thickly cushioned chairs, and others stretched out in the cots placed between partitions along the wall. A few of the junior knights attended to the knights to help them remove their breastplates.
Maxi studied the murals on the walls and the intricate carvings on the pillars. She turned at the sound of Riftan calling her name.
“Maxi, come here.”
He was seated at a long table across from the duke. After a moment of hesitation, Maxi made her way to him. The duke’s dark brown eyes were bright with curiosity.
Riftan placed a hand possessively on her back. “This is my wife, Maximilian. I wanted to ask you before I depart if you would provide her shelter.”
“Your wife?”
The duke looked surprised. Then, much to Maxi’s discomfort, he looked her up and down. She willed herself not to shrink back. Stroking his neatly groomed mustache, the duke cocked his head, perplexed.
“I would of course make sure she is well cared for, but I must ask, why did you bring your wife on such a dangerous campaign?”
“Lady Calypse is a talented healer,” Hebaron chimed in out of nowhere.
He was lounging at the end of the table, sipping a goblet of wine.
“We had already sent our mage with the first party,” he continued, “so we had no choice but to ask her ladyship to accompany us.”
“I see,” said the duke after a pause. His dark brown eyes softened. “It must have been a rough journey. I shall arrange for her to stay at the palace immediately and see to it that she has everything she needs.”
“I wish for her to stay at the monastery,” Riftan said quickly. “I have heard that many of Livadon’s noblewomen are staying there. Would you be able to make arrangements for my wife to be accommodated there as well?”
“That can be arranged, but... would it not be better for her to stay at the palace?”
“I do not want my wife embroiled in politics,” Riftan said plainly, not caring if he sounded insolent.
Growing slightly tense, Maxi studied the duke’s face. Duke Aren simply let out a hearty laugh.
“Word has it that you have managed to earn the ire of Elnuima Reuben III. Are you worried that having your wife stay at the Livadonian palace will further inflame his misgivings?”
“You must concede that there is no guarantee that people with treacherous intentions would not approach her.”
“Indeed,” said the duke after a short silence. His trimmed, dark brown mustache quivered slightly as he sighed. “Considering your position, it would indeed be better for her to stay at the monastery. I understand. I shall ask the high priest to see to her welfare.”
...
While the men discussed where she would be staying, Maxi sat meekly beside Riftan and clasped his hand under the table. He glanced down at her anxious face and squeezed back.
The duke briefed them on the situation in Louivell, then left to supervise the campaign preparations. Soon after, the clerics entered with several types of dishes, wine, and a basket of fresh fruit.
Maxi sat gloomily at the table as she ate her last meal with the knights. With their departure into dangerous battle looming, the men’s faces were visibly tense. The atmosphere was more sober than usual as they discussed their itinerary.
Although Maxi desperately wanted to have a private moment with Riftan so that they could say their farewells, he was deliberating with the knights and seemed not to notice her at all. At last, the Livadonian knights came to inform them that all the preparations had been made.
“Baggage wagons with the weapons and provisions are waiting in the square.”
“And the hierarch?”
“Two of them are all set.”
Riftan and the knights once again donned their armor. As she watched them, Maxi felt a gaping hole in her heart. She had known that sending him off would be difficult, but the anguish she felt was far greater than what she had been steeling herself for.
She was unable to bid him or the knights farewell as she dumbly watched them file out of the room. Riftan, who had been talking to Duke Aren in the doorway, turned to look at her.
“Maxi, the Duke will introduce you to the high priest. Come.”
It was only then that Maxi was able to move. She followed Riftan out of the building. They passed through the garden and entered the basilica, where they were greeted by a middle-aged cleric. His pale, almost white hair curled just above his shoulders.
...
Duke Aren stepped forward to formally introduce Maxi to the high priest.
Maxi executed a stiff curtsy. “I-I am Maximilian... Calypse.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Calypse. I am Sam Mordecai, a servant of our divine master. I have been told that you will be staying with us for a while. Please, consider this place your home during your stay.”
“I leave my wife in your care,” said Riftan, respectfully bowing his head to the high priest.
Maxi felt a part of her heart grow cold. Did he intend to bid her farewell here? Like this?
Riftan straightened and turned to her. “If anything happens, inform Duke Aren. He will look after you.”
Maxi’s lips quivered, and she could not manage any words. The impassive face looking down at her was as cold as steel, devoid of any emotion.
“Be well.”
This content is taken from fr(e)ewebn(o)vel.𝓬𝓸𝓶