CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: WOLF AND SERPENT

Shinji Karou was a man who took quiet pleasure in small things.

If he were not constantly travelling across continents on missions that threatened the balance of the world, his days would have been filled with endless meetings with the Elders and the meticulous management of Clan affairs. Becoming the youngest Head of the White Wolf Clan had left him little room for indulgence. Each task completed merely led to another assembly, another room filled with ageing men who insisted, with increasing impatience, that he find a wife and produce an heir for the sake of continuity.

It was exhausting, whether it served the Clan’s future or not. Still, Shinji accepted it without complaint. As Head, his role was not comfort but stability. He existed to ensure that things functioned as they should, smoothly, quietly, without error.

Which was why, on one particular late evening, the Mansion’s chefs were left utterly horrified when they discovered the young Lord standing barefoot in their kitchen.

Shinji had just finished preparing a simple stir fried vegetable dish and was transferring it onto a serving plate when the chefs rushed in, voices colliding as they demanded to know what he was doing. Utensils were removed from his hands with alarming urgency, as though he were handling weapons rather than chopsticks.

Unfazed, Shinji merely replied, “I felt the urge to cook. From now on, I will handle dinner. You may prepare the rest of the meals.”

Or the time the Clan’s interior designer had come to assess the living room for renovation, only to find Shinji examining fabric samples, enquiring about frame compatibility, and offering opinions with unsettling precision.

Those moments, trivial as they were, grounded him.

Which was why the present situation felt so jarringly wrong.

The Kingdom of Aquarius was a marvel of excess. The Audience Chamber alone surpassed any hall Shinji had encountered before. Vast pillars rose toward a vaulted ceiling inlaid with gold and crystal, while polished marble reflected the torchlight in calculated symmetry. It was a space designed to impress, to dominate, to remind all who entered that power resided here.

He had to admit, even if he held little respect for King Lewis, the man possessed exceptional taste.

What unsettled Shinji most was not the grandeur, but the fact that despite standing at the centre of the chamber with a bruised face, wrists bound behind his back, and guards surrounding him with blades poised at his throat, he could still appreciate the craftsmanship.

“How fascinating,” a hoarse voice drawled from the throne. “To think that the Lord of the White Wolf Clan himself would trespass upon my land. I wonder whether I should feel honoured, or deeply insulted.”

The voice belonged to King Lewis XIII.

The King reclined upon the throne with deliberate ease. He was a man in his early forties, his long grey white hair tied into a low ponytail that rested against richly embroidered fabric. Sharp, blackened nails tapped idly against the armrests, one palm supporting his chin as green grey eyes assessed Shinji with open disdain.

This was a man accustomed to obedience. To fear.

After a prolonged silence, King Lewis spoke again, his tone deceptively mild.

“Even now, I cannot fathom how the two of you managed to bypass the barrier surrounding my castle. That alone speaks either to impressive competence, or intolerable arrogance. So tell me, Milord, why have you come?”

Shinji met his gaze without flinching. Sweat dampened his brow, though whether from pain or restraint was unclear. His fists clenched behind him until his knuckles burned.

“Where is he?”

“I asked first.”

“What have you done to him?”

“Answer the question, Lord Shinji.”

“What have you done to Guy?”

A heavy foot slammed against the marble floor, the echo ricocheting violently through the chamber.

“I will not have an outsider speak back to me in my own castle!” King Lewis roared.

Shinji forced a smirk. The display was meant to intimidate him. It failed.

He cared little for the King’s temper. His thoughts were fixed solely on his companion.

They had been separated from the rest of the team upon landing in Aquarius. While attempting to regroup through the portal device, they had been ambushed by Aquarius Knights. Choosing speed over confrontation, Shinji and Guy fled into the forest, only to trigger concealed traps designed for trespassers.

They were captured within minutes.

At the castle gates, Guy had been recognised immediately as the son of Luyas. The reaction had been instantaneous. He was dragged away without explanation, without resistance, and without mercy.

Shinji was painfully aware of the rivalry between King Lewis and Lord Ranfel. Their hatred for one another was no secret, and recent rumours suggested it had worsened even before the Spirit invasion began.

Shinji doubted the King would dare kill him. Not after what the White Wolf Clan had done to Aquarius years ago.

No.

What terrified him was what they had done to Guy.

He had been blindfolded and isolated upon arrival, detained for over an hour before being brought before the throne. The possibility that Guy had been tortured simply to wound Lord Ranfel made Shinji’s chest tighten with a quiet, suffocating dread.

“Answer the bloody question,” the King snarled.

When Shinji remained silent, King Lewis snapped his fingers.

The chamber doors opened.

Guy was dragged inside.

His face was swollen beyond recognition, one eye nearly sealed shut. Deep lash wounds marred his back and shoulders, the skin split and raw beneath torn fabric. He swayed on his feet, barely conscious.

Something inside Shinji fractured.

“Now,” King Lewis said calmly, “will you answer me?”

“You bastard,” Shinji hissed.

“If looks could kill,” the King remarked dryly, tapping his nails, “I would have died years ago.”

A guard struck Shinji hard in the stomach, driving him to his knees as blood spilled from his mouth and stained the marble floor.

“I may not be permitted to kill you,” King Lewis continued with a grin, “but watching you kneel before me is its own satisfaction.”

The words burned deeper than the pain.

Shinji inhaled slowly. He had been trained never to divulge mission details. He would have endured mutilation without complaint.

But this mission involved another life.

A friend.

His gaze flickered to Guy.

“…We came under orders from Master Oracle Fye,” Shinji said at last. “To investigate the Martial Law you announced without sanction.”

The King’s grin widened. Another blow landed, this time against Shinji’s face.

“There now. Was that so difficult?”

King Lewis descended the steps, circling him like a predator.

“Baron’s Portal,” Shinji added suddenly.

The effect was immediate. The smugness vanished.

“You are not so confident now, are you?”

A kick drove the air from Shinji’s lungs, yet he smiled through bloodied teeth.

“Frankly speaking,” Shinji continued, his voice steady despite the blood at the corner of his mouth, “I highly doubt that either the Master Oracle or Lord Eden truly care about what you choose to do within your own Kingdom. They have far larger concerns pressing against them, matters that threaten far more than one set of borders.”

He lifted his head slightly, eyes never leaving the throne.

“What drew their attention to you was not your declaration of Martial Law, nor your barriers, nor even your isolation. It was Baron’s Portal. The one that has been said to have mysteriously vanished years ago, its whereabouts unknown, its absence conveniently ignored.”

A pause. Deliberate.

“It was only a few days ago that Lord Eden’s army discovered a portal hidden within a sealed chamber beneath Luyas’s castle. At first glance, it appeared flawless. Identical in structure, energy output, and function. A perfect replica of the original.”

Shinji’s lips curved faintly. “Perfect, save for one very minor flaw. Would you care to know what made it truly interesting?”

The flicker of unease that crossed King Lewis’s face did not go unnoticed.

“They found a seal,” Shinji went on, his voice sharpening. “A finely pressed trademark, hidden where only its maker would think to leave it. Your Kingdom’s seal. Engraved into the portal itself.”

“Silence!” King Lewis barked, rising halfway from his throne. “What proof do you have that such a seal belongs to my Kingdom?!”

Shinji exhaled softly. “A fair question. Why don’t you ask the Master Oracle himself?”

Before the guards could strike again, Shinji wrenched his wrist free just long enough to tear the watch from his arm. His thumb pressed the activation button as he flung it across the chamber. The device struck the marble floor and rolled to a stop near the King’s feet just as the guards tackled Shinji to the ground.

Light flared. A holographic image of Master Oracle Fye materialised in the air.

Shock rippled through the chamber.

Fye’s eyes moved swiftly from Shinji, bloodied and restrained, to Guy, barely upright and held by iron restraints. His breath caught.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded. “Your Majesty… could you kindly explain why two of my representatives are covered in blood, their faces swollen and battered?”

King Lewis straightened, irritation hardening his features.

“If someone is caught trespassing upon my land illegally and without invitation,” he retorted, “would you not take action against them, O Great Master Oracle?”

His lip curled as he continued mockingly, “That is precisely what I have done.”

“You placed the entirety of your Kingdom under Martial Law,” Fye replied evenly, “during an active war in which your Kingdom’s assistance was critically required. Such actions raised serious suspicion. That is why I dispatched those two to investigate.”

King Lewis snorted. “Suspicion is not authority. I do not recall receiving any warrant bearing your seal. Without it, you have no right whatsoever to interfere in my Kingdom’s affairs. And if memory serves, a Master Oracle is meant to stand upon neutral ground, not align himself with any one party. Would it not be a violation of your own laws to arrest me simply because I chose to close my borders?”

Fye did not rise to the provocation. His lips pressed into a thin line, hazel eyes fixed unwaveringly upon the King.

“It is true,” he said calmly, “that those two trespassed your Kingdom under my orders and without formal warrant. It is also within your rights to detain and punish them as you see fit.”

His gaze shifted, briefly, to Guy.

“However, it is difficult to ignore that while you were punishing both men, you directed considerably more brutality toward Sir Guy, firstborn son of Lord Ranfel, than toward Lord Shinji. Even a blind man would have heard that your relationship with Lord Ranfel deteriorated sharply well before the war began.”

King Lewis’s composure cracked.

“That back-stabbing, repulsive arse!” he snarled. “The entire Kingdom knows what kind of man Ranfel is. If there is such a thing as karma, then this is it. And if his son must pay the price for his sins, then so be it.”

“Your Majesty,” Fye pressed, carefully now, “What exactly did Lord Ranfel do that warrants such hatred toward his innocent son? Please, tell me—”

“SHUT UP!”

The outburst shattered the chamber into silence. A silence so complete that even the guards restraining Shinji froze, boots locked against the marble floor.

Fye did not flinch.

“Your Majesty,” he said again, his tone measured, “If you cooperate and tell us the truth of what Lord Ranfel has done, we can help shoulder the burden you are carrying.”

“It is none of your damn business!” King Lewis growled. “I do not care if you are the Master Oracle. What I do within my Kingdom is my own bloody right!”

“That bastard Ranfel,” the King snarled, venom thick in his voice. “Because of him, I am trapped in this situation. He stole something from me. Something precious. Something irreplaceable. And he will pay for every sin he has committed. I will not allow anyone to jeopardise my plan. No one.”

His green grey eyes burned as they locked onto Shinji.

“Lock them up,” He pointed sharply at Guy. “Him first.”

The guards moved immediately. Shinji was dragged toward the exit, boots scraping against stone. Two guards released Guy from the iron pole and hauled him away by the arms, his feet barely touching the ground.

As the chamber emptied, King Lewis bent, retrieved the shattered watch, and crushed it beneath his heel.

He turned back toward his throne just as a guard approached.

“Your Majesty. We have received word from the border. The Commandant and his Brigade are returning today. Additionally, it appears the intruders did not come alone. Two more are believed to be hiding within the forest. Reports suggest that one of them is the Spirit Princess. Shall we dispatch the Knights?”

King Lewis did not hesitate. “Pursue them. Bring them to me unharmed. I want no mark upon the Princess.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The guard saluted and departed.

As soon as the guards departed the Audience Chamber, dragging the two intruders along with them, King Lewis staggered back toward his throne and collapsed into it with a heavy exhale.

The scorn that had twisted his features moments earlier drained away, leaving only exhaustion in its wake. He drew a long, unsteady breath and closed his eyes, shoulders sinking as though the weight of the crown had finally caught up with him.

When he opened them again, tears glittered along his lashes. He slumped deeper into the throne, one hand rising to cover his face as the silence pressed in from all sides.

Alone at last, the King broke.

Quiet sobs escaped him, raw and unguarded, as he murmured words meant for no one but the shadows that lingered within the chamber.

“Medea,” he whispered. “My sweet, sweet Medea. Please forgive me… forgive me.”

***

Elsewhere, staring at the now lifeless screen, Master Oracle Fye remained frozen in shock. King Lewis and Lord Ranfel were entangled far more deeply in the matter of the missing portal than anyone had anticipated. And if the portal was involved, then so too was the sudden escalation of the Spirit invasion.

What remained unclear was the catalyst.

What, precisely, had Lord Ranfel done? What loss had driven a once just ruler to such hostility, to sealing his borders and erecting barriers around his entire Kingdom?

Fye turned slowly, his expression hardening with resolve.

“Sir Mathias,” he said, his voice low but commanding. “I want every record you can find from one month prior to the Spirit invasion up until now. Political movements, private correspondences, trade routes - everything. I also want the full history between Lord Ranfel and King Lewis. Leave nothing out.”

Fye paused, then added, “Tell Lord Eden that I have information of urgent importance. Something that may aid him greatly in the interrogation and investigation of Lord Ranfel. Have him on the call as soon as possible.”

Mathias bowed. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

***

The forest stirred as a mounted column cut through it, armour brushing against leaves, hooves striking damp earth in steady rhythm. Banners bearing the sigil of Aquarius swayed above the ranks, catching stray shafts of light filtering through the canopy.

At the head of the formation rode Commandant Ren.

He carried himself with the quiet authority of someone long accustomed to command. His dark violet hair was tied into a low ponytail, smooth and deliberate, framing a face sharpened by discipline rather than age. Bright turquoise eyes remained fixed on the path ahead, alert to every broken twig and uneven shadow. The uniform of a Commandant sat perfectly upon his frame, polished to regulation, worn not for display but function.

Beneath him moved Lex, a powerful black stallion whose stride was confident and unerring. The horse had been Ren’s constant companion since his promotion from Captain to Commandant a year earlier, and the bond between them was evident in the way Lex responded to the slightest pressure of rein or knee.

Ren had learned early that loyalty was earned, not granted.

His childhood in Islez had been defined by scarcity. Orphaned at five, he grew up fighting for food, space, and survival within a small orphanage where kindness was often outpaced by necessity. Life there had been unforgiving, yet it had not stripped him of decency.

That, he owed to his caretaker.

She had been a gentle woman with a firm hand, one who believed that hardship did not excuse cruelty. Even as she struggled to keep the children fed, she insisted on manners, honesty, and compassion. Ren carried those lessons long after she was gone.

When he was twelve, the Aquarius Knights arrived in Islez without warning. They came bearing a truth that fractured his world.

Ren was not merely an orphan. Royal blood ran in his veins.

His mother had been a Princess, the King’s younger sister, who had fallen in love with a merchant and fled the Kingdom with him. Their elopement had been spoken of in whispers, framed as scandal and betrayal. When they died, the Kingdom mourned the Princess quietly, but the King never ceased searching for what remained of her.

It was rumours, passing words of a boy who resembled her, that eventually led the Knights to Islez.

Ren remembered the choice vividly.

The Village Elder had spoken gently, wisdom heavy in his voice, assuring the boy that no matter where he went, Islez would remain his home. A year after Ren departed, the Elder passed peacefully in his sleep.

Ren carried that loss with him into the castle.

Life within the palace was colder than he had imagined. Whispers followed him through marble corridors. His parents’ love was spoken of as disgrace. He was tolerated, not embraced, by most.

Except by King Lewis.

The King treated him with unexpected warmth, an affection that confused the boy who had braced himself for resentment. It was not until one sleepless night, when Ren confronted his uncle, that the truth emerged.

King Lewis spoke of anger and political ruin narrowly avoided. He spoke of a broken engagement that nearly plunged nations into war when the Princess eloped. That it had been the former Master Oracle, Loci, who had saved them all from catastrophe.

And then the King wept.

“My sister is gone,” Tears streaked down his face. “You are all I have left of her.”

From that night onward, Ren found his place.

At seventeen, Ren was named second in line to the throne.

He refused immediately.

Power did not interest him. Protection did. Becoming a Knight had been his dream long before he knew of his bloodline.

After days of argument, it was Princess Medea, then only fourteen, who persuaded the King to relent. Ren would serve instead as her personal guardian.

King Lewis gave in, and from that moment on, the two cousins were inseparable.

Years passed in training, hardship, and relentless discipline. Ren climbed through the ranks, facing failure and disappointment without complaint. Nothing eased his exhaustion more than returning to the castle and ensuring the Princess was safe.

He knew her habits, her silences, her smallest tells. Watching her grow into the young woman she became was his quiet pride.

And then, recently, something broke.

The memory rose unbidden, sharp enough to steal his breath. Ren blinked and lifted a hand to cover part of his face.

Damn it. Not now.

Ren gritted his teeth and forced himself back into the present, eyes sweeping his formation.

A shout rang out.

“Commandant!”

Ren guided Lex toward the Knight who had called out. The man gestured toward the underbrush, where disturbed earth revealed the remains of a hastily extinguished fire.

Ren’s jaw tightened.

“Eyes open,” he ordered. “Hold formation.”

His gaze scanned the forest. No one trespassed on these lands unnoticed. Not since that day.

The strike came without warning.

Lex screamed, rearing violently as something struck his flank. Ren barely had time to react before the world inverted. Nets snapped tight, hauling him into the air with brutal force.

Chaos erupted.

Knights shouted as hidden traps triggered beneath their feet. Some vanished into concealed pits. Others dangled helplessly in nets like Ren, struggling against restraints that tightened with every movement.

Footsteps approached, slow and deliberate.

Two figures emerged from the trees. One wore a familiar smirk.

“Told ya,” Kazuo said smugly. “They’d fall for it.”

Mika remained watchful beside him.

Ren spat under his breath. “Son of a bitch.”

“All right, Princess,” Kazuo laughed. “Who d’you wanna eat first?”

Panic rippled through the Knights.

“She’s a Spirit?!”

“Please don’t eat me! I have a family to feed!”

Kazuo’s grin widened. “Depends how cooperative ya are.”

Ren exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing. “You haven’t changed.”

The Knights stared at him in disbelief. “You know them, Sir?”

“Unfortunately,” Ren replied.

Kazuo laughed louder. “Congratulations, lads. Ya just got outplayed by a woman.”

He approached Ren, laughter fading as he produced a dagger.

“Kazuo, wait.”

Too late.

The net snapped, and Ren hit the ground hard.

Mika moved swiftly, freeing the others and conjuring a ladder for those trapped below.

“Sorry,” Kazuo said, offering Ren a hand. “Had to do it.”

Ren accepted it warily. “What are you doing here?”

“Passing through.”

“No outsider is permitted,” Ren said firmly, folding his arms.

A Knight stepped forward and whispered urgently in his ear.

Ren’s eyes narrowed. “It seems there has been a change of plan. You are summoned to the castle.”

Mika and Kazuo exchanged a glance.

“Summoned?” Kazuo echoed. “By the King?”

“Yes. Is there a problem?”

“No,” Mika said calmly. “Not really.”

Ren found himself staring at her a moment too long before something abruptly blocked his view.

“Oi. Eyes up here,” Kazuo said, planting a palm between them and tugging Mika closer. “Watch where ye staring.”

Ren coughed lightly. “My apologies. It was rude of me to stare at your… companion. Now, let’s move. It’s a long way back to the castle.”

“We’ve done plenty of walking,” Mika said with an easy smile. “We’ll manage.”

As the forest parted to reveal the castle ahead, unease coiled tightly in Mika’s chest.

The place was beautiful. And deeply wrong.

***

Ren maintained a strict triangular formation, his Knights moving in disciplined silence around their guests. Mika and Kazuo were placed at the centre, never restrained, yet never truly free, while Ren led from the front atop his black stallion.

The quiet was heavy.

Not a single Knight spoke as they advanced, boots crunching softly against fallen leaves, armour whispering with each measured step. The forest itself seemed to listen.

Ren had offered Mika a ride earlier, gesturing toward his horse with formal politeness. She had declined just as courteously, choosing instead to walk beside Kazuo.

Ren did not press the matter.

Kazuo leaned closer to her as they walked.

“Something smells off. That bastard’s hiding something. I don’t like this. I’m worried about Shinji and Guy, but right now, we need to watch ourselves. Keep your guard up.”

Mika nodded, her expression calm even as her senses sharpened.

Kazuo had spoken briefly of Ren before, of how they had once known each other back in Islez. They had grown up in the same village, shared the same dirt roads and narrow winters. In truth, Kazuo had known Ren long before he ever met Shinji.

After Ren was taken to Aquarius, their paths rarely crossed. Years passed. News replaced familiarity. Kazuo heard of promotions, of honours earned, of a boy who had risen higher than anyone had expected.

As a friend, Kazuo was proud of him. But as a man, he was not yet convinced.

The forest thinned as stone emerged ahead.

The castle rose from within the trees like something grown rather than built, its structure elegant and unfamiliar. Mika slowed slightly as it came into view. It was unlike any fortress she had seen before, even among the many she had visited since recovering fragments of her memories.

Memories she had kept to herself. Not even Shinji knew.

At least, she hoped he did not.

Though the castle was beautiful, something about it felt wrong. Too quiet. Too watchful. As they halted before the gates, Mika studied the Knights flanking her. One, in particular, stood rigid, his hands trembling faintly at his sides.

Fear.

It flickered through him before he masked it.

Why would a Knight be afraid inside his own Kingdom?

The gates creaked open.

“Commandant Ren,” a guard called out formally. “Welcome back, Sire.”

Ren inclined his head and without another word, the formation moved forward.

They crossed the threshold and entered the castle.