The caravan moved through the main streets under Arvian's guidance. Citizens stepped aside as it passed, their faces caught between hope and fear while the Carpathian knights escorted the princess and the duke with flawless discipline.
Arvian's residence—a wide manor of pale stone with worn blue banners—was the only place in the city large enough to host the princess and her entourage.
When they entered, the servants looked as though they were on the verge of collapse. They had spent weeks surviving on minimal supplies, most of them working without rest to tend to the refugees.
Elizabeth greeted them with a warm, reassuring smile.Lusian merely observed in silence.
Arvian bowed deeply.
"We will prepare rooms for the princess, the four heroes… and of course for you as well, Duke Douglas."
Elizabeth corrected him, her voice firm.
"Lusian will stay in my wing."
Arvian blinked.The heroes stiffened.Emily opened her mouth to protest.
But the princess continued without leaving room for objection.
"He is my designated protector. I want his room beside mine. And I want him to remain at my side… day and night."
The Carpathian soldiers bowed their heads.
Arvian had no choice but to accept.
Emily clenched her teeth.
The Carpathian caravan halted at Governor Arvian's residence.
Elizabeth stepped down from the carriage and addressed him with composed authority.
"Governor Arvian, this will serve as the resting place for me and my escort. I want everything prepared to protect the wounded and maintain order in the city."
Arvian nodded awkwardly, still trying to grasp the scale of the situation. Lusian Douglas—injured, yet standing perfectly straight—accompanied the princess to the entrance, ensuring her arrival carried the weight it deserved.
He said nothing.
He didn't need to.
His presence alone imposed discipline and respect.
When Lusian briefly left to coordinate the security of the residence, only the two women remained in the room.
The tension between them could have been cut with a blade.
Emily spoke first, her voice soft but edged with venom.
"Elizabeth… you should let Lusian rest. He's exhausted. It isn't healthy to keep him here just because you want to."
The princess turned toward her, cold and measured, not a single emotion betraying itself on her face.
"Because I want to?" she repeated slowly. "Lusian is not an object, Emily. He stands at my side because he chooses to. Not because you decide it."
Emily did not lower her gaze.
"I don't doubt his loyalty… but last night…"
Elizabeth did not react immediately. When she finally spoke, her voice was precise.
"Do you want to talk about what happened in his tent?"
A heavy silence filled the room.
Emily swallowed.
"Someone who hopes to stand beside him… should understand that some wounds cannot be healed with words."
Elizabeth stepped forward. Then another step.
Emily caught the scent of her perfume—soft, steady, defiant.
"Interesting," Elizabeth whispered. "Because someone who claims to heal should know there are hearts you have no right to touch."
Emily clenched her fists.
"And you do?"
Elizabeth looked at her as if the question were trivial.
But she answered.
"Not because I want to," she said, her voice hardening. "But because he allowed me to first."
Emily blinked. For a moment, a flicker of vulnerability crossed her face.
"Lusian isn't yours."
Elizabeth smiled slowly—calm, powerful.
"Perhaps not," she murmured. "But as long as he stays close… I will be there too. Whether you accept it or not."
Emily lowered her gaze for a moment, drew a deep breath, and replied coldly:
"He is my fiancé, Elizabeth. Don't forget that."
Without waiting for an answer, she turned and left the room, leaving the princess alone.
After Emily's departure, Elizabeth remained silent for a moment, letting the tension slowly dissipate.
She took a deep breath and ordered:
"Bring Governor Arvian to me immediately."
Minutes later, Arvian entered in haste, visibly uneasy before the gravity of the situation. Elizabeth greeted him with composed authority.
"Governor, more than 8,000 people followed us from the surrounding villages and small towns. They are mostly women and children. They will be placed under your care."
"Eight thousand?!" Arvian exclaimed. "We can't feed them! We barely have enough resources for our own population!"
"Do not worry," Elizabeth replied calmly. "We will supply food for one month. In addition, there is a plant that grows easily here. It does not need to be cultivated outside the city and can bear fruit year-round if placed on the rooftops of houses. It is not exquisite… but it will quiet hunger."
The great hall no longer resembled a place of governance.
It was a sanctuary of pain.
Improvised candles burned between bodies covered with gray blankets, and the smell of iron, herbs, and dried blood hung heavily in the air. The murmurs of the wounded mingled with quiet sobbing.
Leonardo Erkhan stopped in front of one of the bodies.
A young priest. No more than eighteen.
His hand still clutched an amulet from the Temple of Thunder. Beside him, a crumpled letter protruded from his pocket—a prayer written in clumsy strokes, dedicated to him.
"Hero Erkhan, I will fight at your side. You will guide us to salvation."
Leonardo felt his chest tighten, as if invisible fingers were pressing into his heart.
"My army barely suffered any casualties…" he said, though his voice trembled. "And yet… they…"
Alejandro Jones approached slowly.
Some of his followers lay there as well.
One of them—a red-haired boy—had a face blackened with soot and burn wounds. In death, he wore a peaceful smile.
Alejandro recognized him.
The boy used to seek him out after every battle, asking for advice, dreaming of becoming as strong as he was.
Alejandro's voice cracked.
"He followed me because he believed… that I could protect him…"
A heavy silence settled between them.
Kara Bourlance stepped closer, but without her usual defiant tone.
Her eyes were red. She had cried at some point, though she would never admit it.
She stopped before three bodies carefully arranged side by side.
Three warriors from her unit.
They had trained with her for years. She knew how they laughed, how they complained about the cold, how they argued about trivial things during night watches.
Now there was only stillness.
"They were the best," she whispered. "The best I had. And still… it wasn't enough."
She covered her mouth with one hand, as though guilt were a hot liquid threatening to spill out.
"Discipline…" she continued weakly. "Yes. My group was the most organized. And what did it matter?! Thirty percent died anyway. What kind of leader am I… if the ones who trusted me most die first?"
Alejandro clenched his fists.Leonardo swallowed hard.Kara trembled.
Nearby, Emily was cleaning the blood from a child who had lost an arm.
Her hands were steady.
But tears streamed freely down her face.
"They…" she murmured as she worked. "They prayed for us. For you. For me."
"They believed we would be their salvation."
"And now we're saving them from dying… just so we can bury them later…"
A nearby soldier broke into sobs.
He was a grown man, but he folded in on himself like a child.
"He… he followed me…" he cried. "Like a little brother!"
"He said the heroes would protect him… that as long as the gods were with us he had nothing to fear…"
Leonardo closed his eyes tightly.
For a single second—just one—he wanted to scream.
To destroy something.
To tear the world apart.
When night finally fell, Elizabeth finished giving orders to the staff of the residence and withdrew to her chambers.
Lusian followed silently, closing the door behind them.
The princess took only two steps into the room before the weight of the day finally caught up with her. She leaned against the wall, lowered her head, and breathed deeply.
"You almost died today," she murmured with a broken smile. "And you… I don't want you risking your life for me again."
Lusian looked at her with that dangerous calm that always overwhelmed her.
"That is my duty," he replied.
Elizabeth shook her head and walked toward him.
"No."
She took his face in both hands, a mixture of anger and relief in her eyes.
"You are not my guard. You are my man."
He opened his mouth to warn her that he was still wounded—
but she didn't give him the chance.
She pushed him gently onto the bed, climbing over him with the urgency of someone who had seen death and refused to waste another second.
Her lips found his without restraint.
"Elizabeth…" he murmured.
"Quiet," she whispered, biting lightly at his neck, trembling. "Don't ever make me believe you're going to die in front of me again."
For the first time that day, Lusian surrendered.
To her.To the warmth of her skin.To the way she held him as if he were the only real thing left in a collapsing world.
Their bodies found each other with a need that had been restrained for far too long.
The room filled with uneven breaths, muffled sounds, and the soft rhythm of the bed against the wall.
There was no war there.
No divine cult.No monsters.No plans of gods.
Only the two of them.
Alive.
Still alive.