Chapter 196: Valmorian Imperial Princesses

"Princess Airam. Princess Hermione. Princess Esther," Valdris said. "It has been a long time."

For several seconds, none of the sisters answered him.

Airam’s body had gone frozen. The softness that had remained on her face only moments ago, when she had watched Esther and Hermione dancing near the stream, vanished at once. Her eyes fixed on Valdris’s face, and she took a small step backward without seeming to realize it.

Hermione looked no better.

The color had left her cheeks. Her hands, which had been resting at her sides when she came from the tent, curled tightly into the thin fabric of her nightgown. She stared at Valdris as if she had seen a dead man walk out from the dark beyond the campfire.

Then both of them looked around once again.

They saw the black-armored knights who had crossed the ruined perimeter of Ulrich’s ward. They saw the Rubenhart men and women holding their formation near the tents and the stream, their swords drawn, their faces set with grim concentration. They saw the bodies already lying in the trampled grass.

The sight did not calm them. It only drove the shock deeper.

"P–Princess?" Esther asked.

Esther had not been looking at Valdris. She had been looking from Airam to Hermione, waiting for either of her sisters to say something, to tell her that the strange man was confused, that he had mistaken them for someone else.

Neither did.

Her gaze drifted toward the closest fallen Rubenhart knight.

The man lay near the edge of the firelight, one arm thrown across his chest. His armor had been pierced beneath the ribs. Blood soaked into the grass around him, dark enough to look black under the night sky.

Esther drew in a frightened breath.

"Eeek!"

She rushed behind Airam and pressed herself against her eldest sister’s back. Her small hands clutched at the loose folds of Airam’s nightgown as she buried her face in Airam’s back. Airam immediately reached behind her, catching Esther’s wrist and holding it there. The gesture was protective, though her fingers trembled.

Ulrich watched the girls closely.

"Do you know him?" He asked.

His sword remained raised, its crimson mana still crawling across the blade in broken lines where Valdris’s weapon had damaged the reinforcement spell. He did not turn fully toward the sisters. Doing so would have exposed his back to the Valmorian commander.

Airam did not answer.

Ulrich’s eyes narrowed.

When Valdris first appeared near the Estate’s ballroom, Ulrich had assumed the man knew the sisters because of Anna-Maria. The former Matriarch had been famous enough that anyone involved with witches, organizations, or foreign noble courts might have recognized her daughters. Valdris’s interest had been suspicious, certainly, but it had still seemed explainable.

Now the man had called them princesses.

Not young ladies. Not daughters of a respected witch. Not heirs to a coven.

Princesses.

The title did not fit Anna-Maria’s status, however powerful she had once been. A Coven Matriarch might command witches, noble families, mercenaries, or creatures. She could even influence the politics of an entire kingdom. But this was not it.

There had to be another reason.

"T–That’s..." Hermione tried to say.

Her voice failed.

She swallowed, though the movement looked painful. Her eyes kept returning to Valdris, as if she feared that looking away would make him come closer.

Airam’s hand tightened around Esther’s wrist.

"What are you doing here?" She asked.

Her voice was cold, but Ulrich could hear the strain beneath it. It was very rare to hear her like that.

Valdris’s expression brightened.

"What am I doing here?" He repeated, almost amused. "I have come to bring you and your sisters back to where you belong, Princess."

"We do not belong there."

Airam’s response came quickly.

"Mother warned you," she continued. "She warned all of you to leave us alone. She told you never to follow us, never to approach us, and never to involve us in anything connected to Valmoris or the covens again."

For the first time, Valdris’s smile weakened.

"Anna-Maria did make that request," he said. "A request, I should remind you. Not an order she had the authority to enforce against the Valmorian throne."

"She was our mother."

"And she was a powerful woman," Valdris replied. "No one denies it. That is precisely why her wishes were respected while she lived."

His gaze moved from Airam to Hermione, then to Esther, who still hid behind Airam.

"We stayed away. We allowed Anna-Maria to keep you beyond the Empire. We accepted her decision to raise you where she wished, among people she trusted. Yet Anna-Maria is gone. Her protection is gone with her. You are no longer under her care."

"You have no right to speak of her."

"I speak of reality," Valdris said. "Whether you hate me for it or not, you three are alone now. You have no mother. No coven stands behind you. No powerful guardian remains who can prevent the Empire from claiming what is its own."

His eyes shifted toward Ulrich.

"A Count of Skargardia may be able to shelter you from bandits, petty nobles, and the sort of witch-hunters that infest this kingdom. But he cannot offer you what Valmoris can."

Valdris’s tone remained calm.

"In Valmoris, you would be protected. You would receive education suitable to your blood. You would be taught magic by masters who understand the power you carry. You would no longer have to disguise yourselves as orphans beneath a provincial Count’s protection. You would have your rightful names, your rightful place, and the future that was taken from you."

He looked at Ulrich again.

"Not this."

The contempt in that single word was clear.

"Not a third-rate life in a second-rate kingdom, hidden behind a man whose title would barely earn him a seat at the outer tables of a Valmorian court."

Ulrich did not react to the insult.

He kept his eyes on Airam and Hermione.

"What does he mean?" He asked them again. "What is your connection to Valmoris?"

Hermione’s lips parted.

She looked toward Airam, perhaps hoping her older sister would answer in her place. Airam did not look back. Her eyes were still fixed on Valdris.

"I... we..." Hermione began.

Her voice shook harder this time.

"We did not tell you because..."

She stopped again.

Valdris sighed.

"Do not force these gentle girls to explain what they have spent years trying to forget," he said. "The matter is simple enough."

Ulrich gave him a brief, hostile glance.

"Then explain it."

Valdris’s expression returned to satisfaction.

"The Emperor has missed them," he said. "He wishes to see them again. He has waited long enough for this separation to end."

Hermione flinched at the word Emperor.

Valdris noticed. His eyes rested on her for a moment.

"His Imperial Majesty is their only remaining family," he continued. "They must return to him. He wishes his daughters back."

"The Emperor?" Ulrich repeated.

Valdris turned toward him.

"Yes, Count Rubenhart."

The commander lifted his black sword slightly.

"It appears that your little wards, your guards, your servants, and your generous hospitality did not earn you their trust after all. They have told you nothing of the blood running through their veins."

"E—Enough!" Hermione glared.

Valdris ignored her.

"Princess Airam," he said. "Princess Hermione. Princess Esther. Though you have used another name for convenience, they are the daughters of His Imperial Majesty, Sedhoran Van Valmoria, Emperor of the Valmorian Empire."

The camp seemed to change around the name.

Hermione shuddered. Esther remained behind Airam, but she slowly lifted her face from her sister’s back, her wide eyes moving between Valdris and Ulrich. She did not understand anything that was being spoken. She was confused and shocked.

Airam’s glare only intensified, yet a faint tremor moved through her arm where she held Esther’s hand.

Ulrich, on the other hand, his mind went blank for only an instant.

Sedhoran Van Valmoria.

He knew that name.

The novel had mentioned him several times, though never in detail. Sedhoran had remained distant from the main story so far, an unseen ruler beyond the eastern borders. His empire was spoken of whenever the subject of military power arose. Its armies, its war-mages, its technology, and its ruthless nobles had shaped much of the human world without needing to appear directly upon the page.

There had been hints that the later stages of the story would bring the protagonists to Valmoris. There had been signs that the Empire would become important when the war against the demons reached its final phase.

But Sedhoran himself had not yet appeared.

The strongest man in the world.

That was the title most often attached to his name.

Not simply the strongest emperor. Not the strongest human ruler. The strongest man in the world.

Ulrich looked from Valdris to the three sisters standing behind him.

"Is that true?" Ulrich asked.

He did not raise his voice.

The question was directed at Airam.

Airam looked at Ulrich.

For a brief moment, the hardness left her face.

She had been glaring at Valdris with the same cold anger she had shown whenever someone insulted her sisters or tried to force her into a corner. Yet Ulrich’s question reached through that anger. Her eyes lowered. The hand holding Esther’s wrist tightened once, and she gave a small nod.

"Yes," she said.

Esther widened in shock at hearing that.

Ulrich turned his attention back to Valdris.

"So they are the daughters of the Emperor of Valmoris and Anna-Maria," he said.

Valdris smiled.

"You understand now."

"Was there an official royal wedding?"

The commander’s smile paused.

"Hm?"

Ulrich’s expression did not change.

"If Sedhoran Van Valmoria, Emperor of the strongest human Empire in the world, married Anna-Maria, a woman known throughout the world as a powerful Coven Matriarch, people would know," he said. "A union such as that would not remain hidden. It would have affected foreign relations, the noble houses, the covens, and probably half the continent."

He said.

"I have heard nothing of any imperial marriage," Ulrich continued. "No treaty, no celebration, no recognition from Valmoris, and no mention of Anna-Maria ever being called Empress. Yet you address the girls as princesses."

Valdris watched him in silence for a moment.

The sounds of battle continued around them.

Hendrick shouted an order somewhere near the stream. A Rubenhart knight cried out in pain, followed by the harsh scrape of steel striking steel. The Valmorian soldiers were pressing closer toward the tent, but Ulrich’s remaining knights had formed a wall between them and the sisters. The black-armored men had already shown themselves skilled, disciplined, and merciless. Even so, the Rubenhart knights did not give ground easily.

Valdris finally let out a quiet laugh.

"Your Skargardian customs are not the customs of Valmoris, Count Rubenhart."

"I asked a simple question."

"And I will give you a simple answer." Valdris rested the dark blade against one shoulder. "No, the Emperor and Anna-Maria did not have an official royal wedding."

He smiled.

"Valmoris does not place the same importance upon ceremonies, religious approval, or public marriage declarations as the kingdoms of the west. There are traditions, of course. There are unions recognized by the Imperial Court. There are noble marriages arranged for alliances, heirs, and political stability. Yet none of those customs can erase blood."

He looked toward the sisters again.

"Princess Airam, Princess Hermione, and Princess Esther carry the blood of Emperor Sedhoran Van Valmoria. That is the only fact which truly matters. Their claim does not depend on whether their parents stood before a priest, exchanged rings before a court, or announced their union to a ballroom full of nobles."

His eyes fixed on Ulrich.

"Blood cannot be removed because it is inconvenient. Their place is not beside a mere Count in a kingdom that would condemn them if it knew what they were. Their place is at the side of their father, within the Empire that belongs to them."

"Mere Count," Ulrich said quietly.

Valdris raised an eyebrow.

"You have repeated my title several times as an insult."

"If you find it insulting, perhaps you understand your position."

Ulrich’s eyes remained cold.

"I am a Count. That is true. I do not command an Empire. I do not have legions, war-mages, or a throne built on the obedience of conquered lands." He took one step forward, placing himself farther between Valdris and the sisters. "But I am also the man who has protected them for the past two years."

Valdris’s smile faded by a fraction.

"They have eaten at my table. They have studied under the teachers I hired. They have trained inside my Estate. My knights have guarded them. My people have bled for them tonight. If you think calling me a mere Count means I will stand aside while armed men take three frightened girls from my camp, you understand very little."

"L-Lord Ulrich..." Behind him, Esther clung more tightly to Airam, crying.

Airam looked at Ulrich’s back.

Hermione did as well.

Neither spoke.

Valdris lowered his sword from his shoulder.

"You speak as though you are their father."

"No, not their father, not at all," Ulrich said.

He never considered them his daughters, nor did he consider himself their father. The concept was too foreign for him. Silas was twenty years old in his last memories, and before he gained consciousness within an eighteen-year-old Ulrich. Obviously, he wasn’t very experienced at all. He was just experiencing love in his past life, which turned out wrong in the end.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t care for them.

"I speak as their guardian," he said.

"Guardian."

The commander repeated the word with open disdain.

"You took in the daughters of Anna-Maria after her death. You gave them shelter, perhaps even a measure of protection. That does not make you their family. It does not grant you the authority to decide their future. You are just a despicable man who sought their talent and forced their adoption."

Ulrich’s expression did not move.

"Then let us speak of their father."

Valdris’s eyes sharpened.

"If Anna-Maria fled Valmoris with her daughters," Ulrich said, "if she cut ties with the covens, hid them inside Skargardia, and spent years making certain no one from the Empire could reach them, then I assume she had a reason."

Valdris’s pleasant expression disappeared.

He did not shout or lose his composure. His mouth simply stopped forming a smile, and the mild amusement left his eyes.

"You speak of matters you do not understand."

"Anna-Maria was not a foolish woman," Ulrich replied. "She did not wake one morning and decide to abandon her home, her influence, and the father of her children for no reason. She did not bring three young girls to a kingdom hostile to witches because she wished to make their lives difficult."

Ulrich didn’t know a lot about Anna-Maria, but he knew enough that her daughters were everything to her and she would do anything for them. Leaving the Emperor of the mightiest Human Empire, leaving her title as Matriarch and her Coven, leaving her past life where she had everything for a life inside a humble village, all that just for her daughters.

That should say enough about her.

"You say their father missed them," Ulrich went on. "You say he wishes to protect them. Yet you came here in the middle of the night, broke through my ward, slaughtered my knights, and ordered your men to seize them."

Valdris’s eyes grew darker.

"If Sedhoran wished to speak with his daughters, he could have sent a letter. He could have sent an envoy with no army behind him. He could have approached me openly. I might not have trusted him, but I would have listened."

Valdris’s fingers closed around the grip of his sword.

Ulrich lifted his own blade.

"They are imperial blood."

"Perhaps."

"They are heirs to Valmoris."

"They are not yours to take."

He said, releasing his mana; his blade flared into a crimson light once again.

"They are mine."