Serpent Emperor's Bride

Chapter 153: Bandits, Beasts, and Buried Truths

[Silthara Palace — Zeramet’s Office — Same Time]

The chamber did not sleep. Even when the palace did, low lamps burned in stillness. At the center Zeramet stood, never seated, never at ease. His gaze rested upon the parchments of reports where ink had begun to darken.

And then footsteps approached, measured and certain. Sharukh Varoth entered and bowed deeply.

"I greet the Malik of Zahryssar."

Zeramet turned and looked at him, asking, "Raise your head, Sharukh."

Sharukh raised his head, saying, "I have brought the reports you have asked Malik."

Sharukh stepped forward, unrolling a sealed parchment. "...The first report concerns the merchants of the eastern routes."

Zeramet’s gaze lowered slightly, listening as Sharukh continued, his voice steady. "Caravans have not vanished at once; they are being stopped...intercepted before disappearance."

"...By whom?"

"It looks like the work of bandits." Sharukh said and continued, "There were no organized armies...not rival houses...merely men from nearby villages."

Zeramet’s fingers tapped once against the table. "...Village bandits disrupt imperial trade?"

Sharukh inclined his head. "...They do not attack immediately; they approach as helpers."

Silence.

"...Helpers?" Zeramet repeated, slower. "...Yes, Malik."

Sharukh’s voice lowered. "...They wait along broken roads...near river crossings...places where wheels fail and beasts tire and when the merchants halt... believing aid has come—"

Zeramet finished. "...They strike."

"...Yes."

Silence stretched.

"...What do they take?"

"...Coin. Goods. Supplies."

"...And the merchants?"

"They were left alive," Sharukh said.

And that made Zeramet frown, asking, "Alive?"

"...Yes, Malik."

Zeramet’s gaze sharpened. "...If they were alive, then how and why would caravans still go missing?"

Silence deepened.

Sharukh did not hesitate.

"...Because the bandits are not the end of it." A second parchment was unrolled. "...There is a second report."

Zeramet’s eyes darkened.

"...Beyond the ambush points..." Sharukh continued, "...there are signs of something else, something that does not leave survivors."

Silence.

"...A beast?"

"...We do not know what to call it, Malik." Sharukh placed the parchment forward. "...But we found tracks."

Zeramet’s gaze dropped. The imprint drawn in ink is large and distorted.

"...That is not a serpent."

"...No."

"...Not a known beast either."

Sharukh’s voice lowered further. "... It walks...like a man, but the size is too large."

Zeramet’s eyes narrowed. "...How large?"

"...Larger than any human closer to Orcs."

"...Orcs?" Zeramet finished.

Sharukh inclined his head once. "...That was the closest comparison."

A long silence followed. Zeramet straightened slowly. "...There are no orcs in Zahryssar; there have never been."

Sharukh did not argue. "...Which is why this...does not fit."

Zeramet stepped closer to the map. "...bandits that spare...and something else that does not. It looks like the villagers have no intention to harm them. Either they are working separately...or together."

Sharukh watched him. "...What do you believe, Malik?"

Zeramet’s gaze did not move. "... I believe...that nothing in my territory moves without purpose, and this..." His fingers pressed slightly harder into the map. "...has purpose."

He looked at him, saying, "...Send a unit, not soldiers; send hunters, serpents who do not hesitate, and a mage."

Sharukh nodded, and Zeramet continued, "...To identify the unknown and to bind it or kill it."

Silence fell.

"...And the bandits?" Sharukh asked.

Zeramet’s gaze hardened completely. "...Arrest them alive."

Sharukh bowed deeply. "...It will be done."

He turned and left. Zeramet remained still, watching the eastern map, and for the first time, something unknown entered his land—uninvited and not understood—but soon it would be hunted.

***

[Silthara Palace — The Lawn of Malika’s Private Residency — Later]

The gates did not announce her arrival, but the carriage did. It came to a halt with a dull weight, as if even the wheels carried exhaustion.

The door opened, and Lady Arinaya stepped down slowly and carefully with the help of the knight. Bandages wrapped her side and her arm. Hidden beneath layered fabric but not enough to hide the truth.

"...He truly does not hold back whenever he gets a chance to strike me." She muttered under her breath, a faint grimace slipping through her composure.

Each step forward was measured and controlled. Pain followed her relentlessly. Across the lawn, Raevahn passed by and noticed her. At first he smiled faintly and unconsciously, but soon it vanished completely.

His eyes dropped to the bandages, to the way she walked, and to the blood that had not fully hidden itself, and in that moment, something inside him tightened.

"Lady Arinaya—" He rushed towards her and stopped just short of her as if afraid even the air might hurt her. "...What...what happened?"

His voice was low, but it carried something he rarely showed. Worry.

Arinaya glanced at him for a moment—

Her expression softened. Just slightly. "Nothing, I could handle it all."

A lie, which he saw instantly, and his tone sharpened, not harsh but desperate. "...Do not say that to me."

His gaze moved again, tracing every bandage, every hidden wound. "...Who did this? Do not tell the high ensi had the audacity to harm you again?"

Silence.

Arinaya exhaled faintly. "...I challenged him, Rakhane, for a duel."

That stilled him. "...You—what? You fought him?"

She did not look away.

"...Yes."

"But why?"

Her gaze shifted just slightly. "...Because I needed to know something."

He stepped closer to her, too close for formality. "It looks as if you nearly died for it, my lady."

His hand lifted and stopped midway as if unsure whether he had the right. "...You should not have gone alone; you should have told me."

That lingered longer than it should have. Arinaya’s eyes flickered. "...And what would you have done? stopped me?"

Raevahn’s jaw tightened. "...No...I would have stood beside you."

Silence, the kind that did not pass easily. Arinaya looked at him fully now. "...You would have been killed."

"...Then I would have been killed with you."

No hesitation, no performance. Just truth that broke something small between them or perhaps revealed it.

Arinaya looked away first. "...Foolish."

Raevahn exhaled slowly. "...You are injured severely; please tell me exactly what led you to duel with High Ensi."

A pause.

Arinaya met his gaze and then turned. "...We will not speak of this under open sky."

He did not argue; he stepped closer, arm lifting slightly. "...Lean on me."

A hesitation, and then she did. Her hand rested against him, light and careful but enough, and together they walked slowly. Through the carved corridors of Silthara, where even whispers carried weight.

"...Do you remember," Arinaya spoke at last, her voice lower now, measured, "...our discussion of the illusion spell within House Karzath?"

Raevahn nodded. "...The illegal one."

"...Yes." Her gaze remained forward. "...I believed...someone wore my brother’s face, so I forced truth from steel."

Raevahn’s grip tightened—just slightly. "...You challenged him...to confirm it."

A beat. Arinaya nodded, saying, "Yes, because that’s the only way to find whether he is Rakhane or not because—"

He cut in, quiet and certain. "...Because High Ensi Rakhane would wound you...severely, but never kill you."

Silence.

Arinaya looked at him, and for the first time since the duel, she smiled faintly but tiredly. "...Then you already understand."

They stopped, just for a moment. Raevahn turned to her fully now.

"...My lady..." His voice faltered not from weakness but from restraint. "...Why must you go this far?"

The question lingered heavily, but she did not let it settle.

"...Because I must." Her voice sharpened. "...I will go as far as required...as far as necessary...to preserve House Karzath."

Silence answered, long, heavy and suffocating. Then she spoke again. "...You know him."

No name needed, Raevhan’s jaw tightened as he nodded because they both knew.

Rakhane.

"...He does not stop." Her voice dropped further. "...He does not yield and what he desires—"

Silence cut her off but the meaning remained clear and dangerous. Raevahn’s gaze darkened, because to desire—Levin—was not ambition.

It was death, and not just for one for all.

"...The bloodline would be erased," he said quietly. "...Every name, every heir."

Arinaya nodded and continued, "...And so...to save House Karzath from fall one day...I believe Malika will standing beside us."

Her gaze steadied.

"And to do that....we must serve the Malika, with everything we have."

Silence.

"And If I bleed for that—" Her fingers tightened slightly against his arm. "...then it is not loss...It is cost."

Raevahn stared at her longer than he should have because in that moment she was not just noble, not just strategist. She was willing to burn everything to save House Karzath.

"...Then live." The words came suddenly quiet but unyielding. "...Do not speak to me of cost if you do not intend to survive it."

A pause.

"Please stay alive."

That was it no grand vow, no declaration. Just the truth, raw and unshielded. Arinaya looked at him and something in her expression shifted and softened.

"...I will try." A faint smirk followed. "...Though survival, it seems...is not easily granted in this palace."

And they began walking again slower and closer now. And though neither spoke further between them, something had already been said, something neither could take back or afford to.

***

[Silthara Palace — Malika’s Office Chamber — Moments Later]

The chamber breathed in parchment and silence. Scrolls lay stacked layer upon layer, truths waiting to be uncovered...or buried again.

At the center Levin sat upon the lower diwan still and reading. Listening to what ink refused to stay and then footsteps slower than usual, measured and weighted.

The doors parted and Lady Arinaya entered Injured and wrapped, yet standing.

She bowed. "...I greet the Malika."

Levin’s gaze lifted and paused. Then he narrowed just slightly.

"Did you has duel with someone?"

Arinaya allowed a faint smile. "...Yes, Malika, with High Ensi."

Silence settled. Levin nodded once—as if confirming something already known, then his gaze shifted to iru.

"...Iru."

Iru stepped forward immediately. "Yes, malika."

"...Call the healer."

Arinaya stepped in—"...There is no need, Malika—"

"...There is." Levin did not look at her, his gaze had already returned to the parchment. "...I do not allow those who stand before me...to bleed unnecessarily."

Silence.

"Take a seat and wait for the healer." Levin voice was not harsh, not loud but absolute.

Arinaya did not argue again, she inclined her head and took a seat. Across the chamber Raevahn exhaled quietly in relief.

Moments passed and then the doors opened once more. A figure entered. Clad in pale robes—embroidered with threads of gold and ancient script.

He bowed deeply. "...I greet the Malika...Mother of the Empire."

Levin inclined his head faintly. "...You came swiftly."

"...At your call, Malika...there is no delay."

Levin nodded saying, "...Attend to her."

Healer turned and his gaze settling upon Arinaya, not startled, not alarmed but aware.

"...These are not light wounds." He stepped closer. "...May I?"

Arinaya nodded once and the healer knelt before her, his hands lifted hovering above the bandaged wounds—not touching yet.

Listening and sensing.

"...Steel cut deep..." he murmured softly. "...and intent followed the blade."

His fingers moved unwrapping the first layer carefully. Revealing crimson beneath. Raevahn’s gaze shifted—jaw tightening—but he did not interrupt.

Healer exhaled slow and measured, then his palm hovered over the wound and he began, low and ancient.

"...Ur’zal en’thar...Sahri vel’eth...Narum...esh’kai...Bind what is broken...Return what is taken..."

The air shifted subtle at first then deeper. A faint glow gathered beneath his hand, not bright, not blinding but alive like embers beneath ash.

The wound responded, flesh knitting slowly and deliberately. Pain easing not vanishing but yielding. Arinaya’s breath caught—just slightly not from weakness but from the sensation.

His other hand moved tracing symbols in the air—ancient sigils that shimmered then dissolved into her skin.

The glow deepened then softened like tide withdrawing and she was healed.

Arinaya flexed her fingers testing and breathing. The pain had lessened significantly. "...You have my thanks."

Healer bowed his head. "...It is my duty."

Across the chamber Levin turned a page calm and unmoved. Yet aware of everything. "...You may leave."

"...Yes, Malika."

Silence returned but it was no longer tense. It had shifted subtly because wounds had closed but questions had not and Levin was still reading.

Then—

TAP. TAP. TAP.

The sound broke the stillness.

Levin’s gaze lifted Toward the window and saw an Owl tapping their window.

"...An owl..." He murmured faintly. "...at morning light?"

Across the chamber Lady Arinaya straightened slightly, her gaze sharpened not surprised but expecting. "...That is no ordinary bird, Malika...It is the answer."

Levin’s eyes narrowed just slightly. "...From the shadows we called?"

She inclined her head.

"...Yes."

Without hesitation Arinaya stepped forward and unlatched the window. The owl slipped inside silent. It perched for less than a breath and then—It dissolved not into feathers—but into ash.

Grey dust scattering through the air like something that had never truly lived, and then—

FLOP.

A parchment fell Landing upon the stone beside Levin and he reached for it slowly, unfolded it. His eyes moved across the words once.

Then they stilled. "...They answer quickly."

Arinaya watched him. "...What do they say?"

Levin lowered the parchment slightly. "...They accept but not blindly, arrange the meeting....we shall meet them personally."

Silence settled once more but this time—It carried direction, because somewhere—between a burned chamber...a hidden serpent...and a name buried too deeply—The truth had drawn closer, and Levin—was now only one step away from it.