The Villainess Wants To Retire-Chapter 394: Return
Soren looked at Eris. The expression on her face mirrored his own, a dark realization that went back weeks, to the long road from Solmire.
"The journey from the South," Eris said, her voice cutting through the wind. "The fire-beasts in the borderlands. They were acting out of character, too. Attacking the caravan when they should have been dormant. Behaving with a frantic, mindless aggression."
Soren nodded, his expression darkening. "Same pattern. Different elements, same corruption. This isn’t just a bad season or a territorial dispute. Something is wrong, and it’s spreading through the veins of the world. If the Thraen are waking up and the Drogar are being steered like puppets, the mountains aren’t safe."
"The hunt?" Jorel asked, though he already knew the answer.
Soren didn’t hesitate. "The hunt is over. We’ve gathered enough meat for the backup reserves, and the storage in the capital is sufficient. This was a precautionary excursion, not a life-or-death necessity. Staying out here now... it’s an unnecessary risk. Not just to the men, but to the crown."
He looked at the weary faces of his soldiers. They had seen enough blood for one trip.
"We return to the capital. Now," Soren commanded. "Break camp. We move in double-time. I want to be behind the city walls before the next moon rises."
The officers gave a unified nod of agreement. There was no protest, no desire for further glory. The forest had turned into something alien and hostile, and the weight of a larger, darker mystery was pressing down on them all.
Eris felt the ache in her chest as she turned toward the horses. The North was her home now, but the home was sick. As she mounted her horse, Soren reached out, his hand steadying hers on the reins.
"We’ll figure it out," he said softly, his eyes promising a war if that’s what it took to keep her safe.
"I know," she said.
They began the long trek back, leaving the shattered ice and the charred remains of the bears behind. The hunt was over, but the real battle, the one for the soul of Nevareth, was only just beginning.
The descent from the Frostspine was a blur of steel-grey skies and the rhythmic, punishing crunch of hooves against permafrost.
What had taken five days of cautious, exploratory trekking during the ascent was carved down to a frantic four-day sprint. There were no detours for tracks in the snow, no pausing to admire the crystalline vistas of the high peaks; there was only the drive toward the safety of stone walls and heavy gates.
The march home was defined by a suffocating alertness. Every snap of a frozen branch brought ten spears to the ready. Every distant howl of a wolf caused the column to ripple with tension, the guards half-expecting the trees to spit out more clockwork-driven golems or maddened predators. But the forest remained unnervingly silent, as if the mountain had spent its fury in the avalanche and the Drogar attack.
Throughout the journey, the physical proximity between the Emperor and Empress was absolute. Eris had initially reached for the reins of her own mare, her chin set with that familiar, stubborn independence.
"I’m riding Solara," she had stated, already checking the cinch.
Soren had watched her for a moment, his eyes lingering on the way her hand trembled just slightly as she reached for the pommel, a lingering tremor from the seal’s fracture. He hadn’t argued. He hadn’t commanded. He had simply stepped up behind her.
"Then we’ll both ride her," he countered, his voice leaving no room for negotiation.
The compromise was a silent one. For four days, Soren rode behind Eris, abandoning his horse. His arms encircled her waist like a living cage of muscle and fur. He was her constant shadow, his chest pressed against her back, providing a heat that was a steady, cooling counterweight to the simmering fire in her core. To the guards, it looked like a display of imperial affection; to Eris, it was a constant, unspoken check-in.
Every few hours, his voice would drop, a low vibration against her spine. "How are you feeling Your Majesty?"
"I’m fine, Soren."
"You would tell me if the pain changed? If it sharpened?"
"I would."
"Swear it, Eris."
"I swear it. Now stop hovering."
He wouldn’t stop, and they both knew it. He held the reins over her hands, his touch a reminder that he was there to catch the pieces if she finally broke.
Despite the exhaustion and the underlying dread of the corruption they had witnessed, there was a strange, fragile peace in the rhythm of the ride, a quiet understanding that they were no longer two people navigating a political arrangement, but a single unit facing an approaching storm.
By the afternoon of the fourth day since their departure, the jagged spires of the Nevarethian palace finally pierced the horizon. The sight of the massive obsidian gates and the fluttering blue banners brought a collective, audible sigh of relief from the men.
As the party approached the main thoroughfare, the horns atop the battlements sounded a long, low note that echoed through the valley.
"THE EMPEROR AND EMPRESS RETURNS!"
The gates groaned open, revealing the bustling courtyard of the palace. Usually, a return from a successful hunt was met with a festive air, servants ready to process the kill, musicians prepared to play for the returning heroes. Today, the atmosphere was different. It was frantic.
Aldric, was already at the forefront of the welcoming party. He didn’t look like the composed, meticulous imperial secretary Eris remembered. His hair was disheveled, his robes were wrinkled, and his face was a map of stress and sleeplessness. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚
His Majesty better triple my salary after this, he thought while struggling not to shut his eyes and fall asleep on his feet right there and there.
He looked haggard, as if he had aged five years in the nine days they had been gone.
Soren didn’t wait for the horse to come to a full stop before he was dismounting, sliding off Solara’s back with a grace born of urgency.
