Chapter 61: Chapter 60. Opposition Party
"And what honor do I owe you for your presence in my carriage, Duke Eisenwald?" Roxanne asked, her tone edged with both suspicion and amusement as the Chancellor of the empire slid into the carriage without invitation.
Gerhard de Eisenwald’s normally composed face is drawn, his heavy brows knit with grim urgency. He didn’t bother with courtesy. "The emperor has gone mad, Your Grace. And if this continues, it will ruin the empire."
Vivianne’s eyes widened. She snapped her gaze to Undine, who immediately moved her hands in silent gestures. Threads of water essence shimmered in the air for a moment before vanishing, soundproofing the carriage from prying ears.
Marvessa shifted her weight on the roof above, her sharp gaze scanning for any movement from the emperor’s shadow knights. When they’re in the capital, Marvessa keeps herself close to Mara, wearing the Borgia Knight uniform.
Even when she knows that nobody can actually recognize her, since they’re always using head covers and masks all the time. She still doesn’t want to jeopardize the safety of her master, Vivianne de Borgia. Two sharp knocks echoed from above. Marvessa’s signal—it’s safe.
"How crazy?" Roxanne asked, her voice low and calm, yet so heavy with restrained power that even Gerhard hesitated.
The Chancellor swallowed hard, then pulled out a leather-bound packet of documents. "He has spent more than the palace’s yearly budget to hire the Black Covenant. Their contract was simple, Your Grace: your death. And..." He hesitated, glancing at Vivianne before finishing, "to sever your bond with the omega. To claim her for himself." He extended the documents forward with shaking hands.
Roxanne didn’t take them immediately. Her sharp crimson eyes were burning while she studied him, weighing truth against deception. Vivianne, meanwhile, froze. The words struck her like a blade. Her fingers clenched at the folds of her gown, her breath caught in her throat.
For her time in the capital, she had endured Dietrich’s stares, the hunger in his eyes. But hearing it spoken aloud, that he would spend fortunes, bleed the empire dry, just to tear her away from Roxanne, is unbearable.
Her body trembled. Her wrath flared. The bond between her and Roxanne pulsed violently, like a roaring storm. Roxanne, Alpha’s dominance responded in kind, filling the carriage with crushing force. The envoy’s horses reared, nearly halting mid-road. The guards outside stiffened as though invisible chains were pulling them down. The air itself grew heavy, suffocating, and alive with Roxanne’s aura.
Gerhard felt it most of all. His lungs burned as though the weight of the sun pressed on him. His knees buckled, and despite every ounce of pride in his noble blood, he found himself bowing low before her.
His forehead nearly touched the carriage floor, his voice trembling. "Forgive me, Your Grace. I did not mean disrespect—only to warn you."
Above him, Roxanne finally moved. She placed her hand over Vivianne’s trembling fingers, steadying them. The raw fury rolling from her softened slightly, though her dominance still hung like a storm cloud. Her voice cut through the charged silence.
"You bring me proof that your emperor—your liege—spends the blood of the empire on his obsession. You admit it freely to me." Her eyes narrowed. "Tell me, Gerhard de Eisenwald... Are you warning me out of loyalty, or are you merely hedging your bets, waiting to see which flame burns brightest?"
Gerhard dared to lift his head just enough to meet her gaze. Sweat slicked his temples. "I’m warning you because I love this empire and my territory more than I love any emperor. And because I know—" he faltered, but then his voice strengthened, "—that the South will burn if Emperor Dietrich continues down this path. If he tears this realm apart over his delusions, then all our fields, all our wealth, all our trade... it will mean nothing. I cannot allow that."
Roxanne studied him a long moment. Then she leaned back, her expression unreadable. Vivianne, however, turned her face away, her voice brittle. "So he would ruin us all just to take me. That man... that cursed man. He will never stop; that’s what you were saying, Duke Eisenwald?" Her voice broke into a whisper.
"Yes, Your Grace," Gerhard managed, though his voice cracked under the weight of Roxanne’s alpha dominance.
His throat felt dry, his chest heavy. He had faced kings, generals, and dukes at council tables, but rarely had he seen an omega, a soft-eyed, clear-voiced one, exert a presence that could suffocate even the proudest alpha. Vivianne de Borgia is unlike any omega he had ever known. Beautiful, and there’s something sharper beneath her gentleness, like a blade hidden in silk.
"I will never belong to him," Vivianne whispered, her words trembling yet unyielding.
Roxanne’s grip on her hand tightened, grounding her. "You never will," she answered with quiet ferocity, her gaze never leaving Gerhard’s bowed form. "Not while I breathe."
The Chancellor swallowed hard, lowering himself further. His voice was hushed, almost pleading. "Then perhaps... our interests are not so far apart."
-
Eisenwald Estate, City of Serathis
The Borgia’s carriage rattled to a halt in front of the Eisenwald estate in the capital, its stone walls looming with the dignity of old wealth. The gate guards saluted nervously as the Chancellor stepped down, his cloak swirling in the early morning breeze. His face is pale, drawn with the weight of secrets too dangerous to voice openly.
"I’ll talk with the Viscount," Gerhard said, his voice low but firm, the tone of a man who had made a choice he could never take back.
"Good," Roxanne replied without hesitation. Her gaze flicked over him once, sharp and cold, before she closed the carriage door. The wheels creaked as the coach rolled away, leaving the Chancellor standing at the gates of his estate.
Inside the carriage, Roxanne exhaled slowly, her mind already leaping three steps ahead. She wouldn’t blindly trust Gerhard, as he’s a politician, accustomed to adapting to whatever situation presented itself, and his loyalty is only to his territory and his wealth, but he proved to be useful. And she needed every ounce of leverage she could claim in this cursed capital.
"We’ll go to Wyndham," she said decisively, her tone brooking no argument. "Not back to the North. Not yet."
"Yes, my Lord," Maxim replied at once, giving a short nod. His eyes flicked to the knights riding alongside. He ordered Mara to move to guard from behind with five knights, and the rest will guard the front with him.
"Do it," Roxanne said, her attention already elsewhere. She pulled out a slip of parchment, her hand steady as she wrote in bold, efficient strokes. The letter is short; there’s no time for flowery words, but the message is clear.
She folded it, sealed it with wax, and handed it to Red. "Take this to my mother. Fifteen knights will go with you. Ride hard, ride fast. I want her in Wyndham within the week."
Red accepted it with a deep bow, his eyes burning with determination. "Yes, my Lord."
As he leapt down from the carriage to arrange his men, Vivianne shifted closer to Roxanne, her face still pale from the Chancellor’s revelation. She rested her head lightly against her alpha’s shoulder, finding steadiness in the firm strength there. Roxanne’s hand lingered over hers for a moment, a silent promise.
Freedom. That’s what she sought, not just for herself, but for Vivianne. The empire’s politics are a complicated drama of power and hunger, but perhaps, with her mother’s counsel, there would be a way to cut through them.