Chapter 46
Rewards and the Road Ahead
The main command tent of the victorious Rose army was a world away from the muddy, blood-soaked field. Scented candles warred with the smell of leather and polish. Renly felt the shift in air the moment he stepped inside, a pressure far greater than any battlefield.
Three pairs of red eyes fixed on him, and for a moment, his instincts screamed of danger.
Count Rose stood, his brown hair streaked with silver at the temples, his famous dark rose eyes holding a weight of gratitude and weary calculation. To his right was Lady Elara. The girl he'd met years ago was gone, replaced by a mature woman with sharp, intelligent features and hair as black as a starless night. Her own dark rose eyes assessed him coolly. He noticed a delicate tattoo of a rose on her wrist, its petals seeming to pulse with a faint inner light. He'd seen it during the siege's climax—when it had glowed a fierce red, sending waves of revitalizing energy through the soldiers defending the gate, sealing minor wounds and renewing their strength.
But it was the woman in the center who commanded the room. The Princess. She sat with an innate regality, her blonde hair like spun gold beneath a narrow, serpentine circlet. Her eyes were not the dark rose of her family, but a bright, burning red, like banked coals. An immense, unconscious pressure emanated from her, the aura of a Grand Knight, making the very air around her feel dense and hot. Renly had watched her during the battle, a whirlwind of fire and steel, a true fire serpent cutting through the Duke's ranks until their own Grand Knight was forced to intervene. Seeing all three of them together, their gazes locked on him, made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
Before the Count could speak, the Princess's voice cut through the silence, clear and resonant. "Ser Renly of Bluestone. The Crown thanks you. Your actions beyond the wall were pivotal. And the capture of my… brother," the word was laced with frost, "has saved the realm from a prolonged conflict."
Count Rose nodded, his expression grave. "You have the thanks of House Rose as well. Your service, from the Serpent's Pass to this field, will not be forgotten." He gestured, and an attendant brought forward a heavy, clinking chest. "Fifty gold coins, from my personal treasury. A tangible thanks for now."
Lady Elara's gaze was more personal. "And you have my thanks, Ser Renly, for saving Anya from Loras's treachery. You avenged a betrayal that cut deeply." She did not look at her father, but Renly saw the Count's jaw tighten slightly, a flicker of pain and regret in his eyes for the son of his late, trusted friend.
The Princess then gestured to an older woman standing silently in the shadows—a maid by her dress, but who moved with the coiled grace of an Official Knight. The woman presented Renly with a single, heavy scroll.
"The 'Manuscript of the Deep Well' you practice," the Princess said, her fiery eyes boring into him. "This version includes the 'Grand Path' chapter, guiding the way to the peak of the Senior rank and outlining the principles of breaking through to Grand Knight." She paused, letting the significance sink in. "The path is arduous, Ser Renly. It consumes decades without an external catalyst." Her gaze shifted briefly, warmly, to Count Rose. "It is a small token of my gratitude for the Count's unwavering loyalty."
"It was my duty, Your Highness," the Count replied smoothly.
"As for your future," the Princess continued, her eyes back on Renly, "should you continue to serve the Crown with such distinction, greater rewards may yet find you. For now, we have much to discuss. You are excused."
Dismissed, Renly bowed and retreated, the scroll feeling heavier than the chest of gold.
Inside the command tent, after Renly had left, the Princess turned to Lady Elara. "Your assessment of him?"
Elara's fingers traced the rose tattoo on her wrist. "He remembers favors and pays his debts. But he is not a blind idealist. He is… profit-oriented. He weighs risks and rewards. A practical man."
"And his potential?" the Princess asked, her fiery eyes intent.
"There is a chance, however small, that he could reach for Grand Knight one day. His growth has been… unnatural."
The Princess raised an eyebrow. "Without a catalyst?"
"I can only guess, and cannot be sure," Elara admitted. "But the will is there. And he has a knack for creating his own opportunities."
Count Rose, eager to move to more immediate matters, interjected. "And what of your brother, Your Highness?"
The Princess's expression hardened, the smolder in her eyes brightening. "I will take him to the capital, to our father. I do not have the authority to pass judgment on a Prince. I will need your help, Count, and a strong escort of your troops for the journey."
"It would be my pleasure, Your Highness," Count Rose said with a deep bow. "The stability of the kingdom is all that matters."
Back in his own camp, the sounds of celebration felt distant. He sat by his fire, the two rewards before him. The gold was freedom—resources to rebuild, to train, to live without want. But the scroll… that was a path. A dangerous, all-consuming path.
Kaelen's mind, ever-analytical, began to dissect the situation through Renly's eyes. He needs stability now. A quiet place to train, heavy daily resources. Can Bluestone provide that? It's a backwater. And what was the Princess's true meaning with 'greater rewards'? A title? Land?
His thoughts turned to the immediate problem: the Lightning Lunge. The fiery ache in his muscles was a stark reminder of its cost. It was a magnificent, battle-ending technique, but it left him vulnerable. The aftereffects can be reduced with increased proficiency, he reasoned. Mastering it will train my Electric Surge, force it to evolve. And ability evolution is critical for rank promotion. He had not even reached the limit of the Senior Knight stage; there was still a vast ocean of power to cross before he could even think of touching the shores of Grand Knight.
His new focus was clear. Not just the slow, steady cultivation of the 'Deep Well,' but the fierce, demanding mastery of his own unique creation. He would hone the lightning until it obeyed him without complaint.
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A jolt, not of electricity, but of reorientation. The scent of woodsmoke was replaced by sterile, recycled air. The weight of the scroll in his hand vanished.
Kaelen's eyes opened to the soft glow of his cabin ceiling on the Pioneer's Dawn. The deep immersion into Renly's world receded, leaving behind the ghost of strategic plans and the burning ambition for power.
A cheerful, insistent knocking came at his door.
"Kaelen! You alive in there? The ship's comm just went off! We're a light-year out! A month and a half left! Come on, I'm starving!"
It was Jax. Always Jax.
Kaelen sat up, stretching muscles that felt oddly sore, a phantom echo of Renly's exertions. "I'm coming," he called out, his voice slightly hoarse.
He rose, the dual realities settling into their familiar compartments in his mind. Renly had his path—master the lightning, climb towards Grand Knight. And he, Kaelen, had his—a new world waiting, just over a month away. Both journeys were nearing their next, critical phase.