Mother of Midnight

Chapter 229 – Steamy Encounter

“So you are the champion of Yenhr, Lady of the Dawn, then.”

Korriva’s voice was smooth but carried an unmistakable weight, like a blade pressed just shy of breaking skin.

Caelum straightened instinctively. “Uh, yes, your Highness.” He kept his tone as respectful as possible, though something in her gaze made him feel like a child standing before a storm.

Korriva’s expression didn’t change, but the air between them seemed to tighten. “High Fang,” she corrected. “'Highness' is an Aegis concept, and our hierarchy is less strict here.”

He swallowed, feeling foolish. “Understood.”

The woman before him was something else entirely. He had traveled with Vivienne for weeks now, long enough to understand what kind of creature she was. Terrifying, merciless, and with an almost complete disregard for life—yet beneath all that, there was something softer, something more complicated. She had done nothing to hide how much she cared for her despondent daughter.

Vivienne’s presence stirred something primal in him, an instinct screaming for him to run, to flee from the thing that lurked beneath her skin. That was easy enough to suppress.

Korriva, though… she was different. She was overwhelming, but not in the way Vivienne was. With Vivienne, the fear was rooted in something ancient, something unknowable. With Korriva, it was the sheer presence of her, the sheer force of the woman standing before him. It wasn’t divine—certainly nothing like standing before the Twin Goddesses—but it was close.

He understood now why Serkoth had never been taken. Not with someone like her leading it.

Korriva studied him for a moment longer before speaking again. “So tell me, what exactly are your plans?”

Caelum didn’t hesitate. “I don’t have plans right now, but my goal is to wipe out Aegis so all who live in their lands can be free.”

There was a flicker of amusement in Korriva’s sharp, golden eyes. “A noble goal,” she said. Then she leaned forward, resting her chin against the back of her hand. “Though an insurmountable one for a lone man who is barely of age.”

Caelum clenched his fists at his sides, his mind racing. He had known this would be difficult—no one topples an empire in a day—but hearing it laid out so plainly, hearing that Serkoth’s might was not enough for an outright war, made the weight of his goal settle heavier on his shoulders.

“I see,” he said, though the words tasted bitter.

Korriva watched him, her golden eyes unwavering. She was still, yet her presence filled the room. It was different from Vivienne’s lurking menace, different from Rava’s raw, battle-worn intensity. Korriva radiated something greater—command, authority, the kind that made people kneel without being asked.

“There is, however,” she continued, tapping her fingers against the desk in a slow rhythm, “more than one way to topple an empire.”

Caelum lifted his gaze, listening carefully.

“A shadow hydra is motionless without its heads,” she said simply.

She leaned back in her chair, exuding effortless confidence. Even while seated, she met him eye to eye, her presence towering over him as if she could make herself taller without moving an inch. Tarric had been a short man. Rava was a giant. Now, Caelum understood where she got it from.

“First,” Korriva continued, “I will propose a test. One to prove loyalties.”

Caelum straightened. “A test?”

She inclined her head. “A mere precaution. If I am to offer you Serkoth’s resources, I must know you are not a foolish idealist who will crumble under pressure—or worse, a liability.”

Her gaze held his, unblinking.

“After that,” she said, “I will see what Serkoth can offer.”

Caelum took a slow breath, then nodded. “I understand. Name the test.”

Korriva’s expression remained impassive as she spoke, her voice carrying the weight of authority. “With Drakthar fallen, the Sovereignty now has a path through the Greyreach mountain range. This is an issue.”

Caelum furrowed his brow. Drakthar… He had never been there, had barely even heard of it before now. But if the Sovereignty had taken it, that meant it was important. Strategic.

“You will go with some of my trusted and take it back,” Korriva continued, as though it were as simple as that.

Caelum blinked at her. “How many?”

“I can spare ten of my soldiers, all veterans,” she said, her fingers drumming against the desk. “I will also assign one assassin.”

He swallowed. Eleven warriors, and him. Against an entire occupying force.

“That should be plenty for a champion,” Korriva said, tilting her head slightly. “Even one whose nose isn’t wet yet.”

Caelum stiffened at the jab but forced himself to focus. It was a test—not just of his strength, but of his resolve. If he couldn’t do this, if he hesitated now, what right did he have to speak of toppling an empire?

His grip tightened at his sides. “That’s…” He exhaled sharply. “Yes. If that is what it takes to earn your trust, then it will be done.”

Korriva watched him for a long moment, her golden eyes sharp as a blade, measuring him in a way that made his skin prickle. Then, she gave a single, curt nod. “We shall see.”

With a dismissive wave of her hand, she leaned back into her chair. “You may leave. I will have someone prepare a room for you while you stay here.”

Caelum hesitated, shifting his weight. There was still something pressing on his mind, something he had to know. “Actually, there was one thing I did want to ask.”

Korriva arched a brow. “Yes?”

He took a steadying breath. “Before I… removed the bulk of the Aegis clergy in my village, I sent some friends away. I told them to come here, to Serkoth. Do you know how I could find them?”

“Ask for my second eldest. If they made it here alive, then he will be able to find them.”

Her words hung in the air for a beat longer, and Caelum nodded gratefully, a sense of clarity dawning in his chest.

“I have work to do now,” Korriva added, her tone shifting to finality, her posture stiffening as if a signal that their conversation was over.

Caelum inclined his head, acknowledging the dismissal with a quiet “Thank you,” before turning and making his way toward the door. But as he reached for the handle, something tugged at him—he wasn’t certain if it was the weight of his duty or the daunting uncertainty of what lay ahead. Still, he didn’t turn back.

He couldn’t afford to.

As Caelum left the office, a servant was already waiting for him. He’d only just spoken to Korriva, how did she manage to organize this so quickly?

The servant led him through the clanhall, and Caelum could feel the eyes on him. A few people gave him strange looks, noting the Aegis iconography still emblazoned on his armor, but no one said anything. The discomfort of being in this foreign place—once a figure of authority, now just an outsider—was overwhelming, but he pushed it aside. He was getting out of this armor the second he had a chance. It was his only outfit, and it screamed Aegis, but he couldn’t afford a new set or even an alteration.

The thought of removing it filled him with anticipation. It wasn’t just the armor; it was everything about Aegis. Their ideals, their hypocrisy, their control over everything he had once believed in. But Serkoth was different. He felt a strange peace in the air here, like for once, he could stand tall without the weight of that symbol on his back.

Korriva’s office had been nothing but plain and functional. No lavish furnishings, no intricate decorations. The starkness was a contrast to everything Caelum had seen in Aegis: the wealth, the golden tapestries, the extravagant carvings. In Serkoth, even their leader kept a minimalistic space—only a few trophies from defeated creatures and battered insignias scattered about. Each one told a story of survival, of strength, but there was no pretense here. No need for adornment to make up for something lacking.

He stepped into the room and looked around. Caelum sighed, his shoulders relaxing just a bit. The room had only the necessities: a bed with a simple blanket, a table with two chairs, a closet with a few clothes. More than he’d had in the military, more than when he had lived with his parents. But it didn’t matter. He was free. For the first time, his mind could begin to focus on the next steps.

He didn’t even know what they would be. But first, he needed to find his friends.

“Ah, if possible, could I please arrange an appointment with the High Fang’s second eldest? She told me he could help me,” Caelum asked, his voice a little rougher than he meant. 

“I will see what I can do, saer.” Said the man.

Caelum nodded, and the servant left without another word, the door clicking shut behind them. The silence that followed was almost deafening. For the first time in what felt like years, there was no battle to prepare for, no chase, no desperate need to stay one step ahead. Just him, alone in a quiet room.

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and dropped his belongings near the bed. The weight of his armor had been a burden in more ways than one, and he wasted no time in stripping it off piece by piece. The plates clattered softly against the floor, the worn leather straps sighing as they were loosened. The tabard, still marked with Aegis’ sigil, was discarded without a second thought. He didn't even want to look at it.

Standing in nothing but his plainclothes, he finally let his body slump onto the bed. The exhaustion that had been clawing at him for months crashed over him all at once, dragging him into the mattress like a stone sinking into deep water.

He was barely eighteen.

In half a year, he had abandoned the army after realizing the country he fought for was rotten to the core. He had torn through the corruption in his own village, cutting out the sickness that festered within the church. He had sprinted across the country to aid another champion, one who might not have even needed his help, only to turn right back around and flee toward the border, never stopping long enough to catch his breath. He had pushed himself far beyond his limits, again and again, and had refused to acknowledge it.

But no matter how much power he had been given, he was still human.

The moment his eyes closed, sleep overtook him like a beast lying in wait.

Sometime in the middle of the day, he woke with a groggy start, his body aching from the sheer relief of rest. He blinked blearily, trying to remember where he was, until the memory of the past day settled back into place. He had slept almost eight bells. More than he had in a long, long time.

With a grunt, he rolled onto his side, forcing himself upright. The stiffness in his muscles reminded him that he had gone too long without real rest, but it was a welcome pain. As his vision cleared, he noticed something on the table—a tray of food, waiting for him.

Fresh fruit, a loaf of bread, and a pitcher of water.

He hadn’t even heard anyone come in.

The smell of the food sent a sharp pang through his stomach, and he wasted no time sitting down, eating with quiet, ravenous efficiency. He cleaned the plate of every last scrap.

For the first time in months, he felt something close to full.

Caelum stretched his arms high above his head, feeling the pull in his shoulders as he worked out the stiffness from sleep. A few satisfying pops ran down his spine as he twisted side to side, rolling his neck to loosen the tension that had settled in. His usual morning routine—well, afternoon, considering how long he had slept—felt sluggish, but at least it got his blood flowing.

Then he caught a whiff of himself.

He nearly gagged.

Gods, he smelled awful. Weeks of travel, battle, and sweat had layered into something truly vile. A bath was no longer just a luxury; it was a necessity. He grabbed his belt, securing it around his plain clothes, and stepped out of the room in search of a servant.

Tracking one down took a little longer than he’d hoped, but eventually, he found someone willing to give directions. The clanhall bathhouse, it turned out, was deeper inside the structure, past a series of winding halls and stone corridors. Serkoth’s people certainly built their homes like fortresses, even on the inside.

The warmth of the bathhouse hit him the moment he stepped inside, the scent of clean water and faint herbal oils clinging to the thick, humid air. The stone walls held the heat well, keeping the space pleasantly warm. Steam curled up from the large communal baths, the sound of water gently shifting filling the quiet space.

Caelum barely had a moment to take in the place before he realized he wasn’t alone.

A massive figure sat in the water, arms resting on the pool’s edge. If Caelum hadn’t already seen Rava, the sheer size of the man might have been shocking. Broad-shouldered and thick with muscle, he was shorter than Rava but still towered over most men—a statement that meant little when her sheer height was absurd.

His fur was a stormy grey, covering his arms and shoulders in a dense layer, while his hands bore a more bestial shape, clawed fingers drumming idly against the stone. A thick mane of dark grey hair ran down his back, framing a strong, square jaw covered in a neatly trimmed beard. Wolfish ears flicked slightly at Caelum’s arrival, and sharp eyes regarded him with mild curiosity.

The resemblance was uncanny.

Another of Korriva’s children, without a doubt.

“Are you going to get in, or are you just going to stand there gaping, whelp?” The man’s voice was deep and commanding, carrying easily over the quiet hum of the bathhouse. It wasn’t just loud—it was heavy, like a boulder dropping into still water.

Caelum snapped his mouth shut, realizing he had, in fact, been standing there staring like an idiot. “Ah, sorry,” he said hastily, quickly unfastening his towel and stepping toward the bath.

The heat wrapped around him the moment he sank into the water, a welcome contrast to the cool air clinging to his skin. He exhaled sharply as the warmth seeped into his muscles, the tension he hadn’t even realized he was carrying melting away. It was the first real bath he’d had in… longer than he wanted to admit. The road had offered little in the way of comfort, and this—this was bliss.

The aches and fatigue from months of travel, combat, and sleepless nights uncoiled bit by bit as he settled deeper into the bath. For a moment, he almost forgot he wasn’t alone.

Caelum let himself soak in silence for a few moments, eyes half-lidded as the warmth eased away the stiffness in his joints. But the weight of the other man’s presence was impossible to ignore. Kavren lounged across from him, arms draped over the edge of the bath, watching him with an unreadable expression.

Now that Caelum was up close, the resemblance to Rava was even stronger—same sheer size, same powerful build, the same air of absolute confidence. But where Rava was all sharp edges and prowling intensity, this man felt like a mountain. Immovable. Unshaken.

Caelum cleared his throat. “I, uh… I take it you’re one of the High Fang’s sons?”

Kavren snorted. “Figured that out all by yourself, did you?” He smirked, baring sharp teeth. “Took you long enough.”

Caelum bristled slightly but held his tongue. He wasn’t about to start something when he was finally getting a chance to relax. Instead, he just nodded. “I spoke to your mother earlier. She told me to find her second eldest. Said he could help me track down some people I sent here.”

Kavren’s ears twitched, and for a moment, he simply studied Caelum, golden eyes sharp and weighing. Then, he rolled his shoulders, the water rippling around him. “That’d be Narek,” he said at last. “He’s the one you’ll want to bother.”

“Yes. I already asked one of the servants to arrange an appointment with him.”

“Good luck.” Kavren snorted. “Mother likes to keep us all swamped in work. ‘Cept Torin, of course. Boy doesn’t have a talent for war or politics.” Despite the words, his tone carried no malice—just a simple statement of fact.

Caelum hesitated, then asked, “What do you do, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Kavren let out a short, barking laugh. “Psh, don’t get formal with me. You aren’t one of mine.” He stretched his arms over the edge of the bath, the movement emphasizing his sheer bulk. “I’m the general of Serkoth’s army. Have been for forty years. Keep the city safe, train the soldiers, make sure no one gets any bright ideas about knocking down our walls.”

Caelum blinked. Forty years? He didn’t look old, not by any stretch. He didn’t look a day over thirty five but that meant the lekine had to be pushing sixty at the least, yet he still had the build of a seasoned warrior in his prime.

“But enough about me,” Kavren continued, fixing Caelum with an expectant look. “I wanna hear details about the new champion.”

Caelum hesitated for a moment, then exhaled, leaning back against the edge of the bath. "Not much to tell," he said. "I deserted the army then I was trained as a paladin, but never truly one of them. Just a cover to get close, to see what was happening behind closed doors. The deeper I looked, the more I realized how rotten it all was." His fingers drummed idly against the water’s surface. "So I tore it out at the root."

Kavren snorted, a short, amused sound. "Bold move, whelp. I imagine that made you some enemies."

"All of Aegis," Caelum admitted, his voice dry. "But it needed to be done."

“Aye. I can respect that.” Kavren nodded with a deep rumble, as if to himself. His golden eyes narrowed slightly as he studied Caelum, the air around him heavy with an almost palpable presence. Then, with a grin that revealed sharp teeth, he gave Caelum an appraising look. “I want to fight you.”

Caelum blinked in surprise. "Sorry?"

Kavren leaned forward, his broad shoulders shifting with the movement, and the playful glint in his eyes shifted to something more challenging. "You, me, fight. Maybe break a few bones. We got healers though, so no need to worry.” He cracked his knuckles, the sound echoing in the steamy room like the distant crack of thunder. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a proper challenge, and you’ve got that look about you. No tricks, no magic. Just the two of us, man to man."

The request was strange, out of the blue, but there was no mistaking the seriousness behind Kavren’s words. He wasn’t asking for a sparring match, but a test. A test of strength, endurance, and will.

Caelum hesitated for a moment, his heart rate kicking up at the prospect. He wasn’t exactly eager to risk injury, but there was something about the way Kavren spoke that made it clear this wasn’t about animosity—it was about respect. Kavren was sizing him up, gauging his resolve.

"You're sure about this?" Caelum asked, not entirely sure how to respond. The idea of facing this beast of a man, someone who looked as though he'd been born for battle, was both terrifying and exhilarating. “I am a champion.”

"Yeah, and I would’ve killed Darius if he wasn’t assassinated," Kavren grumbled, his tone low and serious. His golden eyes were intense, and his muscles rippled beneath his thick fur as he shifted his stance. "Point is, don’t let that divinity go to your head. You might have a touch of power, but I’ve got more years in battle than your parents have been alive."

Caelum flinched at the mention of his parents. The loss of them—especially at the hands of those he once trusted—was still a fresh wound in his heart, a pain that never quite faded. "Yes. They didn’t survive the clergy."

Kavren’s face softened for a moment, and he grunted in sympathy. "Sorry to hear that."

Caelum’s voice grew quieter. "I am too."

The room fell into a heavy silence as the steam swirled around them. Caelum let the warmth of the bath soothe his aching muscles, trying to let the conversation settle in his mind. But soon enough, a question arose, one that had been gnawing at him ever since he’d heard the whispers of the past.

"It was Tarric that wiped out most of that force, correct?" Caelum asked, his voice steady but still carrying an undertone of curiosity.

Kavren blinked at the question, his brows furrowing for a brief second before a loud, booming laugh echoed through the bathhouse. "So, you deserted from that army, then?" he asked, the amusement in his voice clear.

Caelum nodded, his expression somber. "It was terrifying. It felt like the world was ending." He stared at the ripples in the water, his mind drifting back to those dark days when the battlefield had seemed like the end of everything. "Made me question a lot of things. Not just the battle, of course!" He added hastily, his voice rising slightly in embarrassment. "There were too many lies. We were even told you don’t have cities but are just roaming bandits. That’s clearly untrue."

Kavren gave a low chuckle, his golden eyes glinting with amusement as he leaned back, relaxing into the warmth of the bath. "That’s the kind of crap they tell to keep people scared of us," he said, his tone more reflective now. "Serkoth is a well-established city. We’ve got walls, we’ve got laws, we’ve got a place for everyone. Hell, I bet it’s more organized than some so-called ‘noble’ places in Aegis. But I don’t blame you for not knowing. Not many people are brave enough to see past the lies."

“It’s hard to see past lies when you’ve never been told the truth.”

Kavren grinned at him. “Didn’t catch your name.”

“Caelum. You?”

“Kavren.”

“Well met.”

“Likewise.”