The Archduke's Songbird-Chapter 130: The Other Purple Hood
In the quiet embrace of the night, the forest was bathed in a silvery glow as the moon shone brightly above. Two horses moved gracefully among the ancient trees, their hooves making barely a sound on the soft, moss-covered ground. Atop these horses were Jerrick and Jessamyn, riding side by side through the serene landscape.
The moonlight filtered through the canopy, casting delicate patterns of light and shadow, creating a scene of ethereal beauty. Jessamyn’s dark hair shimmered in the moon’s glow, and Jerrick’s strong profile was softened by the gentle light. The horses, their coats glistening like liquid silver, seemed almost otherworldly as they moved with a sense of purpose and serenity.
The air was filled with the fragrance of pine and damp earth, mingling with the distant calls of nocturnal creatures. The rhythmic sound of the horses’ hooves was a soothing counterpoint to the whispering leaves, adding to the tranquil ambiance of the night.
"He is a good horse," Jessamyn said, patting the horse gently. The animal nickered softly in response, its warm breath visible in the cool night air.
Jerrick smiled at her, his eyes glimmering with a teasing, I-told-you-so look. "I knew you’d like him," he said, his voice carrying a hint of playful triumph.
Jessamyn couldn’t help but smile back. "I was worried about riding after a long time, but he makes it easy," she admitted, her tone softer, more reflective. She stroked the horse’s mane gently, feeling the warmth of the animal beneath her fingers.
The serene silence of the forest surrounded them, broken only by the gentle rustle of leaves and the occasional hoot of an owl. It was a peaceful, almost magical night, where the world seemed to pause just for them.
"You don’t look comfortable," Jerrick observed, his voice low and concerned.
"Oh, I had riding gear tailored for me—trousers and a jacket. I’m not used to riding while wearing a dress," she confessed, a hint of amusement in her voice. Joar had specifically tailored it for her, defying the usual customs. The seamstress had considered it akin to treason when Joar asked her to stitch trousers for his wife. Jessamyn’s lips curved into a smile at the memory.
She glanced at Jerrick, curious if he had any thoughts about her unconventional attire. To her surprise, he didn’t look as shocked as she thought he would be. "It makes sense," he said, nodding thoughtfully.
Jessamyn had a feeling, judging by the contemplative look on his face, that he might be planning to get her a pair of trousers himself. The thought warmed her heart but it was no surprise. The Jerrick she remembered from the past didn’t care much about the societal conventions. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have believed that love was love and that their big societal gap was something to fret about.
The night was perfect, the kind of night that made all worries fade into the background. But suddenly, the tranquility was shattered by the sound of someone approaching. In the dark forest, such a noise could signal either stupidity or danger.
Jessamyn and Jerrick instantly tensed, their senses on high alert. They patted their horses to be still and observed closely.
Jessamyn instinctively reached for her crossbow as the noise approached them closer, her eyes scanning the darkness for any signs of movement. Jerrick’s hand tightened on the reins, ready to spur the horse into action if needed.
From behind a thick bush between a row of trees, emerged a dark hooded figure, rushing at them. Jessamyn gripped her crossbow, ready to shoot, and Jerrick clenched the hilt of his sword. But...
"Help!" shouted the hooded figure. "They’re after me!"
It was the voice of a girl, her intonations suggesting a lady of aristocratic bearing. Jessamyn squinted her eyes to have a look at her face, but the girl covered her face out of fear and hid in the shadows of the trees.
Jerrick’s grunt turned Jessamyn’s attention toward the front. They noticed five burly men following the girl, swords pulled out, their intentions unmistakably hostile.
Jessamyn’s heart raced, her fingers tightening around the crossbow trigger. "Stay back!" she shouted at the girl, and aimed at the advancing men. The moonlight glinted off their weapons, casting ominous shadows on their faces.
Jerrick urged his horse forward a step, his sword gleaming in the pale light. "Surrender!" he commanded, his voice resonating with authority. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎
The men hesitated, taken aback by the unexpected resistance. One of them, a brutish fellow with a scar running down his cheek, snarled, "This doesn’t concern you. Move aside!"
Jessamyn felt a surge of reassurance as Jerrick positioned himself protectively in front of her, his stance that of the mighty warrior he truly was.
The moonlight caressed the silver threads of his cape, casting a soft glow on it. With each movement, the light danced and shimmered, creating an ethereal aura around him. His longsword, polished to a brilliant sheen, gleamed in the moonlight, its blade catching the silver hues of the night.
The aura around turned dark, and dread-inducing, but for her, it was cool as the moonlight.
Jessamyn, observed the ethereal sight in front of her without blinking her eyes. His stance looked familiar as she had dreamed it in her feverish daydreams of the past. She had seen this stance too not so long ago.
The tension crackled in the air as the standoff continued. The men shifted uneasily, sensing the resolve in Jerrick and Jessamyn’s stance. The girl, still hidden in the shadows, watched with wide, terrified eyes, clinging to the hope that they might save her.
With a sudden burst of movement, one of the attackers lunged forward. Jessamyn reacted instantly, releasing an arrow that struck the ground just inches from his feet, forcing him to halt.
Jerrick spurred his horse, charging at the men with his sword raised. As he tightened his grip on its hilt, the moonlight traced the contours of the blade, casting radiant reflections that seemed to dance along its edge.
The clash was fierce and swift. Jessamyn fired her crossbow with precision, each shot finding its mark. She took down two men.
Jerrick swung his sword with practiced ease, disarming and incapacitating the attackers with powerful strikes. The forest echoed with the sounds of the skirmish, the once serene night now filled with the clang of metal and shouts of pain.
In a matter of minutes, the attackers were defeated, their weapons scattered on the forest floor. Jerrick dismounted, his eyes scanning the area for any remaining threats. Jessamyn lowered her crossbow, her heart pounding from the adrenaline rush.
As Jerrick surveyed their assailants, Jessamyn approached the cowering figure. Moonlight filtered through the leaves, casting a silver glow upon the hood—revealing the unmistakable silhouette of the Purple Hood.
Jessamyn’s grip on her crossbow tightened. The notion of the seemingly helpless girl being potentially dangerous crossed her mind.
"You’ve come to my rescue once more, Lady Jessamyn," the girl exclaimed as she rose to her feet. "Are they...?" Her voice trailed off as she glanced at the fallen men.
As the hood slipped, revealing her face, Jessamyn’s heart skipped a beat. "Lady Cordelia?"
