Chapter 34: Red Ride

Hati’s paws pounded against the cobblestones like rolling thunder.

The world blurred past me — banners snapping overhead, guards shouting behind us, the startled gasps of servants scattering out of the way. I clung to the saddle ropes with both hands, laughing despite myself, because it wasn’t fear that filled me. It was exhilaration.

I had no control. Not really. Hati wasn’t listening to my shouts or my frantic pulls on the ropes. He was running where he pleased — and the palace grounds, wide as they were, weren’t enough for him.

“Hati! Slow down!” I shouted, though my words were lost to the wind whipping past.

The Dire Wolf bolted straight toward the front gates.

The guards braced, spears leveled, but at the last second they scattered aside, their eyes wide as the massive beast barreled through. In another breath we were beyond the gates, tearing into the streets of Ikol.

People screamed. Merchants dove behind carts. Children pointed, their mouths hanging open.

But Hati — gods, Hati — didn’t strike a single soul. For all his size, he moved with impossible grace, weaving through crowds like a shadow. His paws struck stone, then dirt, then stone again, his body flowing with the rhythm of the city streets as though he had always belonged here.

The wind lashed my face, dragging tears from the corners of my eyes. My heart hammered in my chest, but I couldn’t stop laughing. The thrill of it — the freedom, the sheer madness of soaring through a city on the back of a Dire Wolf.

We blitzed through markets, the blur of stalls and startled faces flashing past. We raced alongside carriages for a heartbeat before leaving them in the dust. We stormed down wide boulevards, knights and commonfolk alike spinning in shock at the sight of us.

The city walls loomed ahead. The last gate.

But the path was crowded — carriages lined up, carts groaning with goods, people pressed together waiting to be let through.

“Hati! Stop!” I yelled, my voice cracking.

He didn’t.

His stride lengthened. His muscles coiled. The ground seemed to fall away as he gathered himself like a storm about to break.

And then he leapt.

The breath tore from my lungs. For one terrifying, glorious heartbeat, my body lifted from the saddle. I was no longer riding him — I was flying, my grip the only thing tethering me to this world. Below us, the cries of the crowd rose like waves, their faces a smear of color and sound.

The city wall rushed beneath us, stone flashing just under Hati’s paws.

We cleared it.

The impact when he landed rattled every bone in my body. I slammed down against the saddle, the air bursting from my chest. Pain sparked, but laughter still clawed its way out of me.

Hati shook his head, mane bristling in the wind, and kept running — wild, unstoppable, and utterly alive.

We thundered east along an old dirt road, the city shrinking behind us. Dust rose in Hati’s wake, his massive paws kicking up stones, his breath steady and fierce. I leaned low against his neck, trying to catch mine, when—

He stopped.

The sudden halt nearly threw me forward off the saddle. Hati’s body stiffened beneath me, muscles taut, ears pinned back. His growl rumbled low, deep in his chest.

I followed his gaze.

Three carriages blocked the road ahead, their wooden frames gilded with red and gold, banners snapping in the wind. Not the colors of any of the Twelve Noble Houses. I’d studied them all in the academy’s records, memorized their crests and histories. These weren’t ours.

The air shifted. Shadows rippled across the ground.

I looked up.

My chest tightened.

Dragons.

Three of them soared above us, wings outstretched, scales burning crimson in the sunlight. They circled once before one dropped low, its enormous wings kicking up gusts that sent the dirt road swirling. The beast landed directly in front of us, claws gouging the earth, its sheer presence making the ground tremble.

It was massive—easily the size of Hati. Its eyes burned like molten gold, slit-pupiled and merciless. Upon its back sat a knight clad in gleaming armor, his crest as unfamiliar as the banners.

Hati’s growl deepened, his hackles rising, fangs bared at the dragon.

The rider leaned forward, voice cutting across the road. “Who are you? Why do you block our path?”

I straightened, forcing calm into my tone despite the pounding in my chest. “My name is Arthur Fenrir. I’m simply… taking my wolf out for a walk.”

The man twitched at my name. His posture sharpened, his head tilting in recognition. “Fenrir… the prince of Dival?”

“That’s me.” I patted Hati’s neck. “And he’s my escort.”

I pointed down at Hati.

The knight barked a laugh, sharp and derisive. “That beast? You believe a mere Dire Wolf is fit to guard the heir of a kingdom? Foolishness. A single dragon could tear him apart.”

Hati snarled, the sound echoing like thunder across the empty road. The dragon answered with a hiss, claws carving furrows into the dirt.

The air between them thickened with tension.

And I realized this wasn’t just chance. Whoever these strangers were, they hadn’t come this far into Dival’s lands to sightsee.

The knight’s laughter lingered, grating against my ears. Hati’s growl vibrated up through the saddle into my bones, but I kept my hand on his neck, steadying him. This wasn’t the time to start a fight—not with three dragons circling overhead.

Before I could answer, the clatter of wheels reached us. The gilded carriages I’d spotted earlier rolled closer, pulled by no horses but by raw enchantment, crimson sigils burning faintly along their frames. Their banners—red cloth embroidered with golden scales—snapped in the wind.

The lead carriage came to a stop. Its door creaked open.

A figure stepped down.

She moved with a quiet grace, though her presence seemed heavier than the air itself. Pale skin, hair the color of midnight threaded with faint streaks of crimson, and eyes that looked far older than her youth should have allowed. They weren’t cruel—not exactly. Just… tired.

Resigned.

Her gown shimmered with faint scale patterns, like woven reflections of dragonhide, but there was nothing triumphant in the way she wore it. Cold, almost detached, as though she had given up on something long ago. On what, I couldn’t tell.

The knight on the dragon dismounted immediately, bowing low. The beast lowered its head as if in deference, though its eyes still burned with suspicion toward Hati.

The woman’s gaze found me. For a moment, her expression didn’t shift. Then, faintly, the corner of her mouth twitched—as if she recognized me. Or maybe just my name.

“Nytheris Veythar,” the knight announced formally, though she barely spared him a glance.

Her voice, when it came, was cool as frost. “So… the prince of Dival greets us first, and not at his castle gates. Curious.”

I sat straighter, keeping my voice even. “I didn’t plan to meet anyone. Just took Hati for a run.”

Her eyes dropped briefly to the Dire Wolf beneath me. For the faintest instant, something softened—like a flicker of memory—but it vanished as quickly as it came.

“You’ll forgive my knight’s tone,” she said, though her words held no warmth. “Dragons do not suffer rivals lightly. And few men claim wolves as guardians.”

Before I could stop myself, I replied, “Dire Wolves have a unique history with the House of Fenrir.”

Her lips pressed into the ghost of a smile. Not amusement. Something sadder. Almost as if the words reminded her of something she wished she could forget.

Silence stretched. The dragons above circled once more, their shadows sweeping the road like storm clouds. Hati’s growl rumbled low, a warning, but he held his ground.

Finally, Nytheris turned back toward her carriage. “We will not delay here. Continue forward.”

The knight glanced at me once, clearly unsatisfied, but obeyed. With a sharp whistle, the dragons wheeled higher into the air, the carriages rolling onward, banners trailing like streaks of fire in the wind.

Hati stayed tense beneath me until the last shadow passed. Only then did his growl fade, though his eyes stayed locked on their retreating figures.

Nytheris hadn’t looked back.

But I couldn’t shake the weight of her presence—or that cold, sorrowful gaze that made me feel as if she carried chains I couldn’t see.

By the time the last of the Dragon Kin entourage vanished over the horizon, my heart was still pounding in my chest. Hati’s muscles rippled beneath me, ready to chase after them if I gave the word.

But I didn’t.

“Enough,” I whispered, patting the thick fur on his neck. “We’re going back.”

For once, he didn’t argue. His ears twitched, but he gave a single snort and turned, paws hitting the dirt road with ground-eating strides. The ride back was less a sprint and more a steady lope, the kind of gait that ate miles in silence. My thoughts churned with the memory of Nytheris’s gaze—cold, resigned, as though she carried the weight of something I couldn’t see.

The first gate loomed ahead, its guards already on edge after our dramatic exit. The moment they saw us, weapons snapped up and shouts rang out.

“Prince Arthur!” one barked, his face pale. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Riding a Dire Wolf through the city like a wildman—gods above, you nearly caused a riot!”

Another guard stepped forward, red-faced. “We’re not your sparring partners, boy! You can’t just tear through the capital without warning—especially not on that beast!”

Hati growled low, lips twitching back to show his teeth. The men froze, their hands gripping spears tighter.

“Hati.” My voice came firm, sharper than I intended. His ears flicked back toward me, and after a tense moment, he huffed and lowered his head. No snapping, no lunging—just obedience. For the first time all day, he actually listened.

The guards exhaled in relief, though their glares remained fixed on me. “See him back to the stables,” one muttered. “Before he decides to leap the palace walls next.”

We passed through the gates under their scowls, Hati’s stride steady, unbothered. I, on the other hand, could feel my ears burning. Reckless. Foolish. They weren’t wrong.

By the time we reached the stables, my body ached from holding on too tightly. The moment we slipped through the archway, Hati slowed to a dignified walk, as if nothing at all had happened.

Waiting there, arms crossed, was Rias. Her expression was unreadable, but the faint crease in her brow told me she’d heard enough.

“How was your… ride?” she asked, her tone deceptively calm.

Before I could answer, Stella appeared from the far end of the stable, brushing hay off her sleeves. “Judging by the racket in the city, I’d say it was… exciting.” She tilted her head, smirking just a little. “Did the young prince enjoy his first flight without wings?”

I dismounted stiffly, my legs wobbling as I descended the ladder. “Let’s just say Hati has a mind of his own.”

Hati gave a low, pleased rumble, as if proud of himself.

Rias raised an eyebrow, lips twitching in the faintest shadow of a smile. “And you have none.”

I groaned, running a hand through my hair. “Don’t remind me.”

The sharp clang of boots on stone jolted me, and I turned as a guard stumbled into the stable, panting hard, his armor rattling until he nearly lost his footing right in front of me.

“Prince Arthur!” he barked, snapping a salute. His eyes flicked nervously to Hati before snapping back to me. “His Majesty requests your presence immediately. The King says it cannot wait.”

The words dropped like stones in my stomach.

I exchanged a quick look with Rias, her lips tightening ever so slightly. Sköll and Geri stiffened, sensing the sudden shift in the air, while Hati let out a low growl as if already displeased with whoever dared cut short his fun.

“Now?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even.

“Yes, my lord. Now.”

The guard’s tone left no room for argument.

I patted Hati’s muzzle, forcing him to stand down. “Looks like the ride’s over,” I muttered under my breath.

Rias’s expression softened, though her voice remained calm. “Then let’s not keep a King waiting.”