Chapter 88: The Spoils of Victory

Meanwhile, at the Eastern Fortress, the cheers hadn’t stopped. Soldiers shouted themselves hoarse, swords raised, celebrating a victory that had yet to fully sink in.

Luna and Peter stood apart from it, looking at what the fog left behind as it cleared.

Blood soaked the stones in every direction. Shattered shields lay scattered among broken swords and snapped spear shafts, and the fragments of huge boulders still sat where they’d fallen, silent proof of what the pass had done to Thorn’s vanguard.

They were both still staring at the empty space where Ethan had vanished.

"Do you know who took him?" Peter asked.

"Yes," Luna said. "But I don’t think she means him any harm."

Peter was silent for a moment. "As long as he’s safe."

Neither of them said anything more. A dozen questions crowding both their minds, but neither had the time to ask them.

That was when House Bluemoon’s commanders came rushing toward them, Corbin crossing to Peter’s side a step behind.

"My Lady, we won!" Valen shouted, the exhilaration of surviving an impossible battle stripping away his usual composure.

"We won!" the other commanders echoed, closing in around Luna, and it was only then, in the middle of their celebration, that they realized the one who had made the victory possible was nowhere among them.

"My Lady, where’s the young master?" they asked, nearly all at once.

"He left," Luna said.

"He left...?" The word rippled through the commanders, disbelief plain on every face.

"How?"

"Don’t ask me anything," Luna said. "Just know he’ll be back. Probably in a few days." The last part came out closer to a whisper, meant for herself more than for them, and it never quite reached anyone’s ears.

"Our benefactor did his part," she said, louder now. "It’s time we did ours."

Exhaustion had settled deep into her bones, and every wound she’d taken through the night was pulling at her, but she held herself upright through sheer will alone.

She turned. "Valen. Justin, Gerald, you’re with me."

Then, to the mercenary leader still catching his breath a few paces off: "Sir Peter. Will you help us?"

Peter managed a small, pained smile. "Yes. We can’t waste his effort now."

Neither of them needed more than that to agree.

The Bluemoon soldiers who’d rushed forward to cheer their benefactor quickly caught wind of what was happening from their commanders, the adrenaline of victory folding back into discipline. Within minutes, they were moving — toward what remained of House Thorn’s army, and the soldiers who’d marched here disguised under Thorn’s banner but truly belonged to Randal Vane and Baron Kyle.

---

The survivors of Thorn’s vanguard knelt in long, uneven rows across the courtyard, stripped of their weapons, wrists bound with whatever rope or chain Bluemoon’s soldiers had managed to find. Some stared at the ground. Others watched the gate, waiting for an order, a mercy, anything.

Luna’s spear was still in her hand, blood dried along the shaft. Peter stood a few paces off, his crushed breastplate hanging loose from one shoulder strap, his broadsword planted point-down in the dirt.

She turned toward the kneeling rows, her voice carrying without needing to rise.

"House Bluemoon does not need enemies." Her eyes swept the rows, cold and clear. "Swear yourselves to House Bluemoon, and you walk away from this pass alive. Refuse, and you die exactly where you’re kneeling."

Silence.

A handful of soldiers shifted where they knelt, eyes flicking toward each other. Word of Thorn’s betrayal had already spread through some of the ranks overnight — the traitors inside Bluemoon’s own walls, the ambush at the hidden camp — but Luna could see it in their faces. Most of them still didn’t know the whole of it.

"Valen. Bring him."

Valen disappeared toward the fortress and returned a few minutes later, dragging a bound man forward by the chain still binding his wrists. His face was still bruised from the night before, his steps unsteady, but his eyes were sharp, taking in the courtyard, the kneeling rows, the crescent-moon banners flying where Thorn’s should have been.

His gaze swept across the courtyard again, and something in his expression cracked. He hadn’t expected House Bluemoon to still be standing. Even if they had learned the truth from him, he had expected them to be massacred by Thorn’s forces.

Thorn had promised to spare his family if he carried out his orders. Iron Wolf had never truly believed that promise. If Thorn had won, he knew his family — and eventually he himself — would have been silenced to bury every trace of the conspiracy.

But he had never imagined this outcome.

House Bluemoon had won.

And now, with Thorn dead and his own life hanging in the balance, Iron Wolf understood exactly where he needed to stand.

A ripple went through Thorn’s kneeling soldiers as they recognized him — a commander who had vanished from their ranks years ago, now dragged back in chains.

"It seems most of you recognize him," Luna said, loud enough to carry. "The infamous ’bandit leader’ who has been bleeding House Bluemoon’s trade routes dry for years, under Count Thorn’s direct order."

"What?" a murmur rippled through the ranks. "Why would he do that?"

Confusion spread across every face. But they had already watched their lord’s transformation the night before — had seen him kill his own soldiers without a flicker of hesitation. Vane’s and Kyle’s men, who’d lost every one of their commanders in the fighting, felt the despair settle in first.

Their lord had told them House Bluemoon was conspiring against their houses. Now, staring at the truth, disgust replaced whatever loyalty had carried them into that pass.

Iron Wolf didn’t wait to be pressed. He confessed everything in a low, steady voice: the raids, the falsified ledgers, the years spent bleeding Bluewind’s trade dry on Thorn’s orders.

Soldier by soldier, the will to keep believing in their dead lord kept draining away. Still, a stubborn few — Thorn’s most ardent followers — refused to let go of it.

Peter stepped forward before anyone else could speak, dragging his broadsword out of the dirt and resting it against his shoulder.

"You want to know what your lord actually planned for men like you?" Peter said. "Every soldier who knew about the conspiracy. Thorn intended to have every one of you silenced once Bluewind fell — so there’d be no loose tongues left to answer for what he’d done."

It wasn’t entirely true, but it wasn’t entirely false either. Peter knew enough of Thorn’s intentions to make the threat believable. Looking at the rows in front of him — men already broken by the battle, their morale crushed, their lord dead and with him any reason left to keep fighting — he knew there was no will left in any of them to resist.

Whatever loyalty had still been holding a few of the kneeling men in place finally broke. Faces that had stayed hard through Luna’s ultimatum went slack with something closer to betrayal now, the last of their trust in Thorn collapsing all at once.

Peter’s crimson aura, spent and flickering as it was, still rolled off him in a low, constant pressure — even hollowed out from the fight, the weight of a Knight Lord was not something ordinary soldiers could stand against, and every man in the courtyard felt it settle over him like a weight pressing down on his chest.

A young soldier near the front broke first, dropping his forehead to the stone. "I swear it. House Bluemoon."

Then another, then a third.

Within minutes the entire courtyard had turned into a ragged chorus of the same three words, repeated over and over until it blurred into a single sound.

Luna watched them without satisfaction. Just a slow, tired nod.

"It seems keeping him alive was a good choice." Luna glanced toward Iron Wolf, who managed a sheepish smile in return.

---

Luna gathered what remained of her strength and gave the order to split.

"I’ll take Thorn’s estate myself," she said. "Justin, Gerald — prepare the mounts, order the first two units."

"I’ll take Vane’s and Kyle’s," Peter said. "Corbin rides with me. And your man Valen, if you can spare him."

Luna glanced toward Valen.

"I’ll go, my lady," he said.

"Teresa, stay and treat the wounded soldiers, and Sir Peter’s men as well," Luna said, giving her last order.

Peter grunted his agreement.

Within a few minutes, everyone had mounted and departed for their respective territories.

---

A few hours later, one of Thorn’s scouts sprinted through the halls of Thorn’s estate and threw open the door to a lavishly decorated chamber, where the count’s bastard son lay sprawled across his bed, a young maid pressed against the headboard beside him, trembling, bruises already darkening along her arms.

"You bastard, at least knock," the young lord snapped, not bothering to sit up.

"There’s no time for that, Young Master. The lord has been defeated. Bluemoon’s forces are already on their way — you need to leave, now."

"What are you even saying? Did you drink yourself stupid?"

"No, my lord, it’s true. I only just heard of Count Thorn’s death myself. I ran the whole way to warn you."

"No way." He laughed, short and disbelieving. "There’s no way that bitch and her paltry soldiers beat our army. We even had Sir Peter with us."

"My lord — Sir Peter has already surrendered. He’s cooperating with them."

The laughter died in his throat. His composure went with it, his hands beginning to tremble as the words finally landed.

He didn’t spare the maid a second glance on his way out the door, leaving her curled against the headboard exactly as he’d left her — bruised, and now, for the first time all night, alone enough to breathe.

---

It took a full day of hard riding to reach Thorn’s territory, and a few hours more before Luna’s column reached the city where the estate sat behind its high stone walls.

As her cavalry rode through the streets, every face turned toward the crescent-moon banners and the young countess riding beneath them. Their lord had marched out only days ago with an army four thousand strong. Did the lord lose? A pair of guards spotted the column approaching and went pale, the question answering itself before anyone spoke it aloud.

Thorn’s banners were still flying when Luna’s column rode through the gates at midday. None of the remaining knights or officers knew yet that their house had fallen. The moment Luna’s crescent-blue banner crested the outer wall, that illusion collapsed.

Servants froze mid-task. A stable hand dropped a bucket, the water splashing across the cobblestones unnoticed. Somewhere inside the manor, a door slammed, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps moving in several directions at once.

Luna dismounted without waiting for an escort, her soldiers falling into a loose perimeter around her as Justin and Gerald flanked her toward the main entrance.

"Countess," a house guard managed, sword half-drawn before he seemed to remember there was no one left to give him orders. His arm dropped.

"Where is your steward?" Luna asked, her voice flat.

The guard didn’t answer with words. He simply turned and led her, terrified, toward the treasury wing.

She found them there — a portly man in fine robes shoveling gold coin and small lockboxes into a traveling chest, two junior clerks helping him drag it toward a side door, and beside them, dressed and composed as if nothing at all had happened, the bastard son of Count Thorn.

They looked up. Their faces drained of color.

"C-Countess Bluemoon, I was only—"

The young lord’s mouth opened, but nothing useful came out of it.

Gerald’s blade was already drawn.

Luna gave the smallest nod.

Neither the steward nor the bastard son got another word out. Gerald’s blade flashed twice, and both bodies collapsed over the half-filled chest.

The two clerks dropped to their knees instantly, hands raised, faces bloodless.

"P-Please, Countess, we were only following his orders—"

"Then prove it," Luna said, already turning away. "Gather every vassal and officer of House Thorn in the audience chamber within the hour. If they don’t come, tell them they won’t live to see tomorrow."

Within the hour, every remaining vassal of House Thorn had gathered in the audience chamber — a hall that put the deteriorating halls of Bluemoon Estate to shame.

Frank, one of Thorn’s leading officers, sat upright among a handful of vassals when Luna entered.

Even against the grandeur of the room, it reeked of filth, she thought, allowing the smallest smirk to cross her lips.

Justin stepped forward, deliberately letting his killing intent leak off him until Frank’s knees buckled where he sat.

"Anyone who wishes to live," Luna said, "confess your crimes. Prove useful, and you’ll keep breathing. The moment I hear a single lie, you’ll wish I’d killed you quickly."

Frank stepped forward.

"Countess Bluemoon," he said, keeping his voice steady despite the pressure filling the room. "Don’t think that winning one battle means everyone here will simply bow their heads to you. You may have defeated Count Thorn’s army, but this estate has been managed by us for years. We know its soldiers, its finances, its territories, and every arrangement that keeps it running."

His eyes hardened.

"Kill us all if you wish. But without people like us, you won’t know what you’ve actually taken control of."

A smile tugged at the corner of Luna’s lips.

"Is that so?"

Frank’s expression stiffened.

Luna’s spear moved before he could say another word. A single thrust pierced his skull, and his body collapsed across the polished floor.

The rest of the vassals and officers flinched back as one, several scrambling out of their chairs.

Luna stepped over the corpse without even glancing down.

"If anyone else wishes to test my patience, I’ll deliver the same answer. Do you understand?"

Every head in the room nodded.

"Good. Catalogue everything. Every coin, every ledger, every deed in this estate. Nothing leaves these walls without my seal on it."

By the time the sun began sinking behind the western hills, Thorn’s estate had been fully secured — its guards disarmed and folded into Bluemoon’s ranks, its staff accounted for, and its treasury sealed under armed watch.

Vane’s estate fell before Peter’s column had even finished crossing the outer gardens.

There were no speeches. Peter didn’t offer the household staff a choice the way Luna had. He simply walked through the front gate with Corbin at his shoulder and Valen a step behind, his crimson-tinged aura rolling ahead of him like a wave nobody wanted to stand in.

...

Kyle’s estate fell soon after.

By nightfall, the territories that had marched against House Bluemoon no longer flew the banners of their former masters.

Three estates, three territories — all fallen to Bluemoon in the aftermath of a single battle.