Chapter 9: “The Woman in Red Armor

The inn smelled like burnt goat meat and damp sweat, two fragrances I never imagined could form such a toxic alliance. But then again, this was Crimsonreach. A border town, charred once by dragonfire, now simmering in its own reconstruction. I hated places like this. Too much hope. Too much smoke. And way too many loud adventurers pretending to be legends.

I stayed near the window. It was cracked—maybe from a bar fight, or maybe someone just punched it because this town sucks. Either way, it made a good spot to keep eyes on the streets. A solo tamer with a snake-familiar isn’t exactly subtle. Especially one who glows slightly when the sun hits right.

Seras curled lazily near my ankle, occasionally flicking her tail in amusement. Her scales shimmered red-gold now, like a wine spill on polished steel. She had grown… again. She purred in my mind, “Do you like what you see, Master?”

“I preferred you when you didn’t flirt with me,” I muttered.

“Liar,” she sang back.

Maybe I was. Maybe I wasn’t. Probably both. I don’t trust myself when I’m the only one keeping me sane. And lately, sanity had been feeling like a rented cloak I couldn’t afford to return.

A commotion outside. Steel clanked. Boots stomped. Some drunk fool ran screaming down the cobbled road—followed by a mounted woman in blood-red armor.

I froze. Not because I recognized her. No, memory is rarely that generous. It was because everything around her seemed to bend slightly—people moved aside like wind-bent trees. Even Seras stopped purring. I think that says something.

The woman dismounted slowly, her armor clicking with an almost musical rhythm. A war hymn on legs. She pulled off her helm. Red hair tumbled out like it had been waiting for centuries to fall. Her face was elegant, sharp-eyed, like a sword forged in moonlight.

She looked right at me.

Straight through the broken glass, into my damn soul.

…Why was my heart beating like a bad war drum?

I looked away. Or at least I tried.

But memories trickled in, like rain slipping through old roof tiles.

A flash of fire.

A ruined village.

A crying child with burned palms.

…A red-haired woman kneeling beside him.

That boy had been me.

I didn’t know her name then. Still wasn’t sure now.

But my stupid instincts whispered it anyway.

Thalira Reinhold.

“So,” Seras whispered, “You remember her.”

“Not clearly. Just pain, heat, and a soft hand on my face,” I said. “Why is it always redheads?”

She chuckled in my mind, “Fate has a kink.”

I stood slowly and walked out, boots crunching on gravel and broken pride.

---

She didn’t flinch when I approached.

Didn’t draw a sword.

Didn’t smile either.

“...You’ve grown,” she said.

My spine tingled. Her voice was lower than I remembered—mature, sultry, like she smoked regrets for breakfast.

I scratched the back of my neck. “And you’ve got better taste in armor now.”

She actually smirked. Barely. But I saw it.

“You were half-dead when I found you back then,” she said. “Burns on both arms. Crying your throat hoarse.”

“Don’t remember crying.”

“You tried to bite me when I gave you water.”

Okay, I remember that part. Barely.

“I assumed you were dead,” she continued, eyes narrowing. “You disappeared from the village records.”

I nodded, trying not to let the past crack through my current snark. “I got kicked out of the Hero Party. Apparently, I’m not good at contributing.”

Her eyes flared. “You were with them?”

“Briefly. Long enough to carry their packs and be the butt of the punchlines.”

She crossed her arms. Her gauntlets groaned like old bones. “Rein and the others… They abandoned you?”

“Publicly. With flair. It was like a betrayal-themed stage play. I got rave reviews from the crows.”

Her jaw tightened. “That’s not surprising. She always hated the idea of a male tamer.”

Wait. She? My eyes narrowed.

“You know Rein?”

Thalira stepped closer. Her scent was like smoldering embers and some kind of wild herb. “We trained together. Years ago. Until she decided being Flame Queen meant stepping over everyone.”

“You were royalty?”

“Once. Crimsonreach had queens. Now, it has politics.”

Ah. Royalty ex-girlfriends. I was collecting flags I didn’t even know existed.

“You saved me once,” I said quietly. “I never forgot that.”

She blinked. Something softened for a moment. Then hardened again, like lava freezing mid-flow.

“And now you’re alive,” she replied. “Changed.”

“Divinely cursed. Or blessed. Depends on your preference.”

“I smelled it. Your aura… It reeks of the old gods.”

I shrugged. “They should’ve picked a better vessel.”

She chuckled. “No. You’re exactly the kind of chaos Athenra would choose.”

My breath hitched. “You know her?”

Thalira leaned in. “My family used to worship her. Before the temples fell.”

Everything tilted slightly in my head.

Before I could form a response, a merchant wagon rumbled past, and in its shadow she whispered:

“I’m heading toward the Molten Pass. There’s a temple fragment there—one we missed in the purge.”

“Looking for answers?”

“I don’t look for things unless I’m ready to fight them.”

I exhaled slowly. “That place is swarming with flame wraiths and berserkers.”

“I’ve fought worse.”

“And if I follow you?”

She turned, mounted her steed, and gave me a look colder than ice, hotter than sin.

“Then try to keep up, little serpent boy.”

---

As she galloped off, Seras slithered beside me and nuzzled my hand.

“That woman… she’s dangerous,” she warned.

“No kidding.”

“And beautiful.”

“Yeah. That too.”

“Do you like her?”

I didn’t answer.

Not because I didn’t know.

But because I knew too well.

And that scared me more than any goddess ever could.

---