{CoRW: Book 3} Chapter 94: A Shift in Loyalty *Rough Draft*

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Chapter 94: A Shift in Loyalty

The cool night breeze tickled against Sophya’s damp neck and arms as she struggled to raise the bucket from the well. Exhaustion and hunger quivered in her arms and legs as she strained and pulled against the brittle rope that tore open the day’s old blisters on her hands.

“Hurry up!” The middle-aged female witch hunter with braided brown hair and a scarlet eye patch snarled as she kicked a rock against the back of the struggling girl’s leg.

Sophya winced but pressed her lips together. Her white knuckles and fingers clenched down harder as she pulled hand over hand until the metal handle of the wooden bucket finally came into view.

“Gods. Finally,” Eye Patch snorted as she grabbed the bucket, lifting it off the metal hook with ease before slamming it into Sophya’s cheat. “Get moving. You still have dishes to scrub clean once you’re done with the table and floor.”

Sophya hugged the bucket and hung her head in defeat. She turned to face the lit windows of Gilwren Manor and tried to ignore the pangs of grief and helplessness that throbbed beneath her damp blouse as she trudged towards the open door.

Gus was waiting in the dining room. His raised feet rested on the table, which Sophya had cleared of its mess of plates and spilt goblets only moments ago. Hunger had forced the once-proud noblewoman to scrap what little remnants remained of the Witch Hunter’s supper from whatever surface she could find. Her stomach turned with disgust, embarrassment, and shame at the memory, but such concerns quickly faded as she grabbed the waiting rag and shoved it into her bucket.

Sophya’s new Master watched her with dark ebony eyes over his newly acquired pipe. The strange mix of foreign spices filled the room in a drawn-out, leisurely exhale before Gus turned his attention to Eye Patch.

“Has Vanya returned yet?”

“No, my Lord.”

“What about Terik?”

“Not as yet, my Lord.”

Gus sighed and returned to his pipe with an expression of impatience mixed with worry.

Sophya focused on her task, wiping remnants of food, discarded bones, and a few rejected vegetables from the table into a second, smaller bucket that quickly filled to the brim. She set it by the door, to be carried out to the pigpen later, and returned to give the table a second wipe down before moving to the chairs.

‘The pigs eat better than I do, inside and out.’

She jumped when Gus’s feet dropped to the floor and only then noticed Terik in the doorway. Eye Patch quickly rose from the chair she had borrowed.

“Your back!” Gus murmured eagerly, the pipe forgotten in his hand as his gaze pierced the empty space behind the senior witch hunter. “Is Vanya with you?”

“No,” Terik snapped with evident displeasure. His gaze moved over the dining table with notable disappointment before he moved towards one of the recently cleaned chairs and sat down. “That bitch will be on her way to the border if she knows what’s good for her.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, she failed,” Terik snarled. “The traitor is still alive and ate with King this morning!”

“You said you would find her!”

“And find her, I will. Later. You and I have more important matter’s to focus on.”

Sophya returned to the water bucket and washed out her rag as quietly as possible. She half expected Terik to dismiss her as he usually did, but the witch hunter either didn’t notice her or didn’t care.

‘If he’s referring to Nicholas as King, that means the coronation must have already happened,’ Sophya realized as she swapped the rag for a sturdy broom and began sweeping. ‘Which means the election for next Prime Minister could happen any day now.’

“Fortunately, King Nicholas did nothing with this information,” Terik continued while lightly rapping his fingers against the clean table. “And if all goes as planned, the King will continue to back the Pope during tomorrow’s blood bath.”

‘Blood bath?’

“I don’t understand,” Gus murmured as his fingers stroked the pipe nervously. “If Vanya failed—surely she wasn’t alone. The other witch hunters—”

“Vanya was in charge of the mission! Her body wasn’t among the dead we found either.” Terik’s sharp eyes snapped in Sophya’s direction as the chair she pulled away from the table scraped the floor loudly.

“But I need her!” Gus whispered tensely. “Vanya is my trainer!”

“I can show you how to summon the Saint’s power just as—”

“But I trust Vanya, not you!”

Sophya flinched as Gus slammed the pipe down against the table, scattering the dying embers of herb across its still damp surface.

Terik ignored the pipe as he leaned across the table to grab Gus’s jacket and pulled the rebellious young man towards him. “Listen here, Little Spark. I don’t care if you trust me or not. You have an important task to perform tomorrow, so push all unnecessary thoughts from your mind this instant, unless—you want to go back to being the same useless pile of shit you were before Vanya found you.”

“T-then—I will face her tomorrow?” Gus whispered with notable anxiety. “I w-will kill—the Duchess?”

Terik’s cold gaze bored into the trembling young man as if searching for a different response. “Not to worry, Little Spark. The Pope and Ripper have taken steps to ensure that Kirsi and the Covens won’t be able to fight back.”

“But—”

“The holy relic will only work if held by a descendant of the Saint,” Terik continued as he released Gus’s jacket. The witch hunter’s gaze dropped towards the dagger Gus always carried at his waist before picking up the discarded pipe and tapping it against the table, dumping the remaining ash and herbs onto the floor for Sophya to sweep. “Everything has been prepared. All you need do is call upon Ramiel’s power to deliver the fatal blow.”

Sophya pried her left hand from the chair and forced herself to sweep the discarded ash as quietly as possible. Her frayed nerves torn between attracting as little attention as possible and absorbing their conversation. Part of her mind wondered that Terik cared so little about her overhearing such pivotal information, but another part of her understood that his lack of concern wasn’t good for her.

‘After I’ve done what they expect me to do—what will happen to me?’

The sound of a blade being drawn from its sheath pulled Sophya’s gaze towards the ornamental dagger her Master now held in his hand.

“But I can’t wield it fully,” Gus murmured.

“This should help you unlock its full potential,” Terik replied confidently as he held up two vials of pale, yellow liquid.

Sophya gasped as the tiny bottles lit up like a candle when Gus touched them. Thankfully, neither men nor Eye Patch appeared to take notice of her response. Their gaze remained fixated on the bright, golden liquid.

“Go on,” Terik urged as he pressed a vial firmly into the young man’s hand. “Give it a try, but only one vial. The other is for tomorrow’s witch hunt.”

Gus nodded as he leaned back in his seat, staring at the vial for a moment before finally opening it.

Sophya continued to sweep the same section of floor blindly as she watched her Master down the heavenly liquid. Gus gagged slightly. His ebony eyes flickered with a strange, blazing light as he squinted and blinked back tears. A trickle of golden liquid slid down the corner of his mouth as Gus clenched his eyes shut and gripped the table, dropping the vial to the floor where it cracked but otherwise remained intact.

Terik tucked the second vial into his jacket as he watched the young man's agonizing struggle. Sophya hardly dared breathe as she watched her Master’s hair flicker between its natural light-brown color and bright golden-yellow hue.

Gus grabbed his throat with a pained, strained grunt as he erupted from the chair. His eyes remained shut while his previously brown hair stood on end and appeared to grow longer, curling around his ears, cheek, and neck as it shifted into shoulder-length, golden-blonde curls.

“Wha—is—happening?” Gus rasped, voicing Sophay’s thoughts aloud.

Terik remained silent as he tapped the table and accessed the young man’s transformation with a curiously disappointed expression.

Gus finally opened his eyes. The orbs of sunlight that glowed within them filled Sophya’s stomach with a twisted sense of wonder and dread.

“Try using Harmonia’s bow now,” Terik murmured nonchalantly as he rose from his chair and gestured towards the dagger in the young man’s hand.

Sophya backed away as subtly as she could, her gaze focused on the golden tears that poured down Gus’s cheek as he focused on the ornamental dagger in his trembling grip. The same sun-like energy poured into the blade before it transformed into a sword.

“Good,” Terik murmured, his expression and tone shifted with tangible anticipation. “Try another.”

Gus grunted and sputtered, and the sword became a spear.

“Keep going.”

Another grunt, but with noticeably less effort, the spear in Gus’s hand became a long, powerful bow.

“That’s it,” Terik whispered with a smile that made Sophya’s blood run cold. “Now use that same power to form a string and arrow.”

Gus’s golden eyes flickered as he stared first at the bow and then at Terik. “I—can’t.”

“You can!” Terik drew in a breath and then continued in a patient tone. “You have to materialize it in your mind!”

Gus shot the witch hunter a less than enthusiastic look but refocused on the bow. A slender line of energy soon emerged connecting the ends of the curved weapon.

“Excellent. Now the arrow.”

Sophya felt her stomach twist in anxiety as the golden hue dissipated from Gus’s eyes. His focus on the bow wavered as his brows furrowed with defeat.

Terik drew in a sharp breath, exhaled slowly, and spoke with strained calm. “Remember your oath, Lord Gus. You were chosen for a reason. Vanya believed in your potential. If you want to save her, then you cannot disappoint her expectations or those of the Pope. Vanya needs you to believe now more than ever. The bow, this power, it is your birthright. And the arrow is not a tool or weapon— it is a symbol of Ramiel’s sacred judgment. Think of your target. Remember the pain that Kirsi has caused you. You know what will happen if she is allowed to live. Focus on your purpose, your righteous anger, your suffering. Forgue your emotions into the arrow that will purge Kirsi from this world forever.”

The hair on Sophya’s arms stood on end as she watched Gus’s expression shift into a look of hardened determination. The harsh, golden light returned to his eyes and solidified into an arrow as bright as the crack of lightning that rippled past the window beside her. The deafening boom that followed sent Sophya to her knees. Fear filled her numb body as she cowered behind her arms before the slave she had once condemned to die. The same man that now stood before her, glowing with the divine power.

***

The ripple of lightning across the horizon pulled Carina’s gaze from the pile of messages before her. A tingle of unease coiled down her arms and neck as the golden sky flickered and then returned to darkness, leaving only the lantern beside her to light up the bedroom inside Rose Palace.

‘Was that some sort of warning or threat?’

Carina smiled and resumed her reading. The message from Captain Silas was as expected. He had moved his army to secure the road Pope Jericho would have to take on his return journey. Captain Arlo had also written to confirm that Captain Tybalt and his three-thousand and five-hundred soldiers were within two day's ride of Bastiallano.

‘They can take over defenses there and rest should I need Arlo’s forces to secure the Capital.’

The Duchess sighed as she folded the short but efficient message before dropping it inside the candle lantern, where it quickly vanished within a bright, engulfing flame. She quickly opened the final letter, tilting it towards the lantern as her ash-brown brows furrowed. The message was a response from Master Iker, confirming the delivery of four hundred rifles to Captain Silas by first light.

‘That’s four of the six hundred rifles Nicholas commissioned to secure the Capital.’

Carina tapped the message thoughtfully as her gaze focused on the closing paragraph where her ally apologized for being unable to provide men to support Hana’s rescue due to a “previous obligation.”

‘The only person I know of that Iker would prioritize over me would have to be Tristan.’

The Duchess’s ice-blue eyes narrowed as she folded the letter, added it to the lantern, and then rose from the writing desk. Carina extended her wrist as she watched the letter burn. Isaac appeared in his falcon form and carefully wrapped his talons around Viktor’s bracelet.

“You summoned me, my Queen?”

“Yes, I—” Carina hesitated as she turned towards the palace window through which she could just barely make out the distant cathedral.

‘It would be a waste of resources to send Isaac after Iker and his men. Dawn is but a few hours away, and I have Percy and his Covens to keep an eye on.’

“If only there were more of you.”

Isaac tilted his head and blinked at her. “Could you not simply make more?”

“Temporary scrivas, yes.” The Duchess sighed as she turned and paced in a small circle between the bed and window. “For a more permanent solution, I require willing souls.”

“And my companion is not to be trusted,” Isaac muttered with a sour look at the diamond that held Maura’s imprisoned soul.

“No. Most definitely,” Carina replied with a snort.

“And what if you—”

The Duchess shifted her attention to the elemental bird as Isaac hesitated. “If I what?”

“I would rather not say. On second thought, it is a bad idea.” The falcon flinched beneath the ice witch’s narrowed eyes and reluctantly continued. “If you have need of souls, then you could find willing souls beyond the realm of the living.”

‘More souls like the one that helped Maura curse Eleanora?’ Carina considered the idea for a moment and then sighed. “You’re right. It’s a terrible idea.”

The falcon appeared to smirk before its shimmering figure vaporized and returned to the bracelet. A knock at the door soon shifted the Duchess’s attention as Lieutenant Quinn’s voice greeted her through the door.

“Your Grace, a message has arrived for you.”

“Yes, come in, Lieutenant.” Carina blinked in surprise as the door opened to reveal both Lieutenant Quinn and Captain Beaumont. “Captain, you have not returned?”

“No, your Grace,” Beaumont replied as the Lieutenant stepped forward to deliver the message.

“The messenger said it was urgent,” Quinn explained, his gaze darting between them before silently withdrawing to the hall.

The Duchess glanced from the letter to the Beaumont and then cleared her throat. “Was there—something you wished to discuss, Captain?”

“No.”

“Then—shouldn’t you get some rest?”

“I do not require any, your Grace.”

Carina opened her mouth, glanced awkwardly in Quinn’s direction, then turned her back on them both as she opened the simple envelope.

‘Your Grace,

I know that it has been some time since our last communication, but I wish to call in the favor you promised me. Should you agree, I will be waiting for you at the heart of the Royal Garden for the next hour only. I have information that you will wish to hear regarding your future endeavors. I do not ask that you come alone—but bring only someone you would trust your life to.

Sincerely,

Madam Maylea.’

The Duchess blinked and reread the message. Despite her familiarity with the spymaster’s fondness for vague wording, Carina found the request baffling for multiple reasons.

‘Why would Maylea reach out to me now? And how did she get past the church and inside the palace?’

“Will you go?”

Carina blinked again as she turned towards Beaumont’s focused gaze. Her lips twitched into a half-hearted smile as she gestured the message in his direction. “Is this what you were waiting for?”

The Knight Captain’s neutral stare offered little reassurance as his violet eyes stared down at her patiently.

‘Someone I trust my life to?’

The Duchess nodded grimly before she returned to the desk, adding Maylea’s message to the lantern before retrieving her cloak from the closet. “Will you accompany me for a stroll in the Royal Garden, Captain?”

“Your Grace?” Quinn called out questioningly from the hallway. “Should I prepare an escort—”

“Just the Captain will be fine, Lieutenant,” Carina interjected with a shake of her head. “If he is willing.”

“I pledged my sword to your service, your Grace,” Beaumont replied with the ghost of a smile. “Where else would I be?”

“But the King—”

“My loyalty to Nicholas was severed the moment he became King.”

The Duchess blinked and then raised her brows questioningly. “Does Nicholas know this?”

A flicker of something that oddly resembled contempt flashed across Beaumont’s face before he replied. “He will understand soon enough.”