Chapter 2: Discipline and Doubt

The echo of Josephine’s boots followed her down the long marble corridor like a judgment refusing to be silenced. Her cloak, dampened by frost and sweat, dragged behind her with every heavy step. The lamps along the hallway flickered dimly, casting warped shadows across the stone like grasping fingers.

She had not spoken since the encounter.

The soldier stationed outside the war chamber recognized her instantly. He said nothing, only stepped aside and opened the door.

Within, the chamber was warm and quiet. Too quiet. It smelled faintly of parchment, steel, and something deeper—like incense burned over bloodied altars.

King Aureth Velliar sat atop his iron seat, his fingers steepled before his lips, eyes closed in thought—or calculation.

Josephine dropped to one knee before him. “Your Majesty.”

The king opened his eyes.

He studied her without speaking. The silence dragged. Not oppressive—deliberate. He wanted her to speak first.

“There was resistance,” she said finally, her voice calm, though something frayed beneath it. “Not from the village. From... someone else. A hybrid. Skilled.”

“Survivor?”

“Unclear.”

The king’s brows knit ever so slightly. “Describe him.”

She hesitated. The image of his eyes—gray like storm-clouds, ancient and tired—flashed behind her lids.

“Tall. Vampiric traits. Elf lineage. He wields two red blades... forged of something I couldn’t identify.”

“Magic?”

“Possibly. But not traditional.”

Aureth leaned back slowly in his throne, the iron creaking beneath him like a beast disturbed. “Did he identify himself?”

“No, sire.”

Truth

Aureth’s gaze narrowed. “And your mission?”

“Complete.”

That was the lie

“So it was him after all.”

A pause. Then, almost to himself, Aureth added, “I suspected the shadow belonged to Veilridge.”

He rose from his throne—slowly, deliberately. The hem of his dark mantle brushed against the marble floor, the fabric adorned with obsidian embroidery that shimmered like oil under the candlelight.

He descended a step, his presence towering even without armor.

“And yet you return with no body.”

His voice turned cold, clipped. “If he crosses our borders again, I want him dead. No more shadows. No more ghosts.”

She could feel it in his tone. He didn’t believe her. Not fully. But he wouldn’t press further—not yet.

Aureth’s words had cut through the air like frostbite: no more shadows, no more ghosts.

Josephine kept her expression neutral, but her stomach coiled tight.

She had killed on command before. Without hesitation. Without question.

But this time…

She had made a choice. One she hadn’t even admitted to herself.

Her hands remained steady. Her breath measured. But beneath the surface, something had shifted — something quiet and dangerous.

Josephine bowed — lower this time. Not out of reverence, but to hide the flicker in her eyes.

Then she turned, boots echoing softly on the marble floor as she left the chamber — her back straight, but her focus fractured.

Behind her, the king’s voice echoed once more.

“Josephine.”

She paused mid-step.

His eyes were sharp now, piercing. “Tell me. Did you waver?”

Her throat closed for a moment.

“No, my king.”

Another lie.

She did not look back as she exited the chamber.

...----------------...

By the time she reached the outer training yards, the sun had begun its slow descent, casting long amber shadows across the fortress walls. The stone spires burned gold in the fading light, sharp and silent like watchful sentinels.

Josephine stood before them, arms folded, face unreadable.

She watched the recruits as they assembled — some already in formation, others still fumbling with their footing. Their movements were too loud, too clumsy.

Her gaze flicked upward again, toward the burnished towers. For a brief moment, she let herself breathe — not relax, but recalibrate. The day’s weight pressed against her spine like a phantom blade.

She blinked once. The softness vanished from her expression.

“Line up!” she barked. “No gaps. I want full control over spacing and timing. Again.”

They moved in unison. Sword arcs. Step formations. Channeling ethereal resonance. Blades hummed and flickered blue as they flowed through the drills she had carved into them.

Yet her mind wasn’t fully there.

“They follow without question,” she muttered. “Just like I did.”

Every time a blade ignited with that familiar ethereal glow, she saw his—those red, curved daggers pulsing like blood-fed fire. She saw his eyes not as a monster’s, but as someone staring into her soul with the weight of something broken and ancient.

The thought echoed in her mind, uninvited:

“Justice doesn’t wear a crown.”

She had no memory of him saying it. But the words lingered as if they’d been carved into her by the weight of their fight.

She paced between the lines of soldiers, correcting stances, adjusting wrist angles, issuing sharp nods.

But inside, her thoughts churned.

Had she truly never asked herself why she fought?

Was it to honor the father she barely remembered?

To prove herself to Commander Vaedric?

Or had loyalty simply filled the silence grief left behind?

“Don’t falter, Basterbein.”

The voice wasn’t hers—it was Aureth’s. From years ago. From one of the first times she had hesitated during a mission. She had carried those words like a shield ever since.

Yet now... that shield felt cracked.

She stopped in front of one of her youngest recruits—a boy barely past seventeen, eyes too wide to belong in Dravareth. His stance was off by a margin, too rigid in the shoulders.

She adjusted his elbow gently.

“Too stiff,” she said, her voice cool but calm. “You can’t force control. You have to feel it. Let the energy flow with you, not against you.”

The boy blinked, surprised. Not used to softness. Not from her.

She moved on without another word.

As the drills concluded and her soldiers dispersed, Josephine remained behind, staring at the edge of the training field. Snow had begun to fall in thin, delicate flakes—uncommon for this region in spring.

She extended her hand, letting one melt on her glove.

”Do you ever ask yourself why you’re fighting?”

Yes.

Yes, she did now.

But she still didn’t have an answer.

Not yet.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***