Chapter 57
They had succeeded, against all odds, against advanced technology from the future, against a trained and fully armed force, and not only had they managed to survive, but they had also managed to trap the Temporal Cross-Police's flying ship temporarily inside the teleportation portal, forcing it to wait until its damaged outer reactor was repaired before it could leap through the current of time again and pursue them.
It was not a permanent victory, they knew that.
But for now, for today, for the next few hours, it was enough.
Nirma wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, then looked at Arya, who was brushing thick dust from her brown robe.
Arya returned the look, and for a moment they smiled, a small smile born of relief and pride, a smile that said they had weathered another storm together.
Without many words, they began to move, stepping among the bodies of the Temporal Cross-Police units that were slowly fading and disappearing—because their bodies were in fact only temporary projections that would return to their original timeline once their mothership was trapped—toward the place where the Prefect's soldiers lay unconscious.
Nirma knelt beside one soldier, gently patting his cheek, while Arya did the same to another.
One by one they began to awaken, their eyes opening with confused expressions, their heads turning as they tried to comprehend what had just happened, but Nirma and Arya did not give them time to ask.
"Wake up, soldier. We do not have time to lie around."
Nirma's voice was firm but not harsh, pulling them out of their confusion.
"You must immediately rouse the horses that can still be used."
Check our carriage and see whether any vehicle is still functional.
We must move at once toward the Psamathia District, to the residence of Konstantinos Dalassenos, Doux of the Fleet, before another obstacle arrives."
Arya, standing beside her, added in the same tone.
"There is no need to ask what just happened.
There is no need to seek an explanation.
What you must do now is rise, move, and escort us to our destination.
Later, when all of this is over, perhaps we will explain.
But for now, time is our greatest enemy."
The Prefect's soldiers, slowly regaining consciousness, rose one by one with bodies still weak and heads throbbing from the strange frequency they had experienced earlier.
They looked around with weary eyes, trying to understand what had just taken place, and when their gaze fell upon the remains of the Covered Carriage still emitting thin smoke in the distance, their expressions shifted to a mixture of confusion and fear.
The carriage, which only hours earlier had stood firm with its teakwood carvings and sturdy iron wheels, was now nothing more than charred wreckage lying in an undignified position, overturned, part of its body shattered and no longer resembling a carriage at all.
A soldier with a scar on his left temple—the same one who had once testified about Adrianos—stepped hesitantly toward Nirma, his eyes moving between her and the wreckage in the distance.
"Lady Nirma, forgive me for asking," he said, his voice hoarse from having just awakened, "what exactly happened? We all suddenly fainted, and when we awoke, the carriage we were escorting had been completely burned, lying like that. Were we attacked? Did someone attempt to kill you and Arya?"
Other soldiers who had begun to awaken also approached, their faces showing the same curiosity, mixed with guilt for failing to protect the two investigators entrusted to them.
Nirma and Arya exchanged a brief glance, a silent communication understood only by the two of them, then Nirma let out a long breath and began to speak in a calm yet authoritative voice, a tone that left no room for further questions even if her words themselves were not entirely logical.
"You need not feel guilty, soldiers. This was beyond your control."
Nirma stepped closer to them, her single eye looking at each of them in turn with an intensity that made them fall silent and listen.
"This carriage was indeed targeted by a group of bandits.
They appeared suddenly from an unexpected direction, attempting to seize something they believed was inside this carriage.
But before they could do more, before they could harm you or take anything, something happened in the sky.
A strange sound, extremely loud and deeply resonant, came from above.
The bandits panicked, they fled in all directions abandoning their plan, and the only victim was this carriage.
They burned it before escaping, perhaps out of frustration or to leave behind a trace of terror."
Nirma paused briefly, looking at the soldiers who were still processing her words.
"You were not killed, not injured, and nothing was taken from you. Only this carriage became the casualty."
The Prefect's soldiers exchanged glances for a moment, digesting Nirma's strange explanation that somehow felt plausible amid their confusion.
They did vaguely remember hearing strange sounds from the sky just before losing consciousness, sounds unlike anything they had ever heard in their lives in Constantinople, sounds that made the hairs on their necks stand on end and their bodies weaken before their awareness faded entirely.
An older soldier, with hair beginning to gray at the temples, nodded slowly, his eyes showing that he chose to believe despite the oddities that were difficult to explain.
"We trust Lady Nirma and Lady Arya," he said in a deep, commanding voice.
"If that is your explanation, then we accept it. What matters now is how we continue our journey to the Psamathia District with what remains."
Without further questions, the soldiers immediately moved, inspecting the horses that had survived the attack.
Some horses lay weak but still breathing, others had already stood though their bodies trembled, and a few of the luckiest appeared completely unharmed.
They selected the best remaining horses, cleaned the saddles and equipment of dust and dirt, and then presented two chosen horses to Nirma and Arya.
Nirma looked at the two horses briefly, then turned to Arya with a question in her eyes.
Arya nodded softly, understanding her meaning without words.
They would not ride two separate horses, not in a situation where vigilance had to be maintained at all times and communication had to occur without sound.
They would ride one horse together, as they had always done during dangerous journeys in the past.
Arya mounted first, sitting in front with an upright posture and eyes immediately alert, scanning the surroundings.
Nirma followed behind, sitting back-to-back with Arya, a position that allowed them to monitor two directions simultaneously.
Nirma's hand wrapped gently yet firmly around Arya's waist, while Arya held the reins with her strong hands.
The remaining Prefect's soldiers, numbering around several dozen with horses still usable, quickly took positions behind and beside them, forming a tight escort formation without the slightest sign of reduction.
Their commander gave the signal, and the small convoy began to move, leaving behind the smoking wreckage of the carriage, leaving the area that minutes earlier had become the strangest battlefield that would never be recorded in any Byzantine history.
To be continued…