Lord of the realm

Chapter 206: Leave for County

The rider pulled a sealed letter from his saddlebag and handed it over.

"From the Coven Council. I was instructed to deliver this directly to you and await your response if needed."

He frowned as he watched the man; Morgana looked worried.

Jaenor broke the seal, the Mother Supreme’s personal mark, and unfolded the letter. Morgana appeared at his shoulder, reading over his arm with the familiarity of someone who’d helped raise him.

Lord Arkwright,

Intelligence has reached us regarding a critical situation developing in County Barok’jnar, northwestern territories. Matriarch of Ladraella, head of the Northern Covens, and a member of our council, has apparently turned traitor.

She has seized control of coven forces under her command and is using them to lead a demon legion—coordinating with our enemies rather than fighting them. The scale of this betrayal is unprecedented. We estimate she commands approximately two hundred witches and three thousand demons, all organized and moving with clear purpose.

Her forces are currently positioned in Barok’jnar, using the county’s defensive geography to fortify their position. We suspect she’s preparing either to strike at nearby imperial territories or to establish a permanent foothold from which to launch further operations.

You are hereby requested to respond to this threat. Your capabilities, particularly your divine beast and your ability to engage powerful opponents directly, make you uniquely suited to this mission.

Coordinate with local imperial forces and eliminate the traitor Elizabeth along with her corrupted coven. Restore order to the region and ensure demon forces are driven out or destroyed.

The Council will provide support where possible, but our forces are stretched thin with the northern demon incursions. You will be operating largely independently, with authority to make tactical decisions as circumstances require.

Respond immediately.

Mother Supreme Wendelina

Jaenor read it twice, then looked at Morgana.

"This is what Gwendolen warned me about. Exactly what she said was happening in Barok’jnar."

"How could she possibly know before the Coven Council?" Morgana asked quietly.

"This letter implies the intelligence is recent, just reaching Wendelina. But Gwendolen’s been tracking this for a week."

"Her networks," Jaenor said.

"She has sources the official channels don’t. People reporting directly to her rather than through normal imperial intelligence structures."

He thought about the implications. Gwendolen had known this was coming and had positioned herself to give him advance warning. That suggested both impressive intelligence capabilities and concerning levels of pre-planning.

She’d wanted him in Barok’jnar. Had known he’d be sent there. Had made sure to establish their relationship before events forced them into cooperation.

Calculated and unsettlingly effective.

"Do we go?" Rena asked, having approached while he was reading.

Jaenor looked at the letter again, at the request that was really a command, and at the threat that was undeniably real, whether Wendelina or Gwendolen had warned him first.

"We go," he confirmed.

"This is exactly the kind of threat we set out to address. Witches coordinating with demons, betraying their own people, that can’t be ignored."

"And more importantly, the witch sisters who kidnapped you are present there. We need to payback for what they done to you."

He turned to the messenger.

"Tell the Mother Supreme we’re responding immediately. We’ll reach Barok’jnar within the day and assess the situation. If we need reinforcements, I’ll send word."

The messenger bowed and departed quickly, clearly relieved to have delivered his message and be free to return to safer locations.

Jaenor looked at Morgana, Rena, Taeryn, Darian, Baren, and Raelana. They were exhausted from yesterday’s battle and should have been resting for days to fully recover.

But they were also looking at him with determination, ready to follow wherever this path led.

"I won’t ask anyone to come," Jaenor said.

"This is dangerous, possibly more dangerous than anything we’ve faced. If you want to stay, to rest and recover, I understand."

"Don’t be stupid," Rena said immediately.

"Of course we’re coming."

"Someone needs to keep you from doing something heroically idiotic," Taeryn added.

"It’s what we do," Darian said simply.

Morgana just smiled and squeezed his shoulder.

"Then lets move," Jaenor said.

"Gather supplies, rest for a few hours, then we leave. Barok’jnar is at least a day’s flight on Ba’narussa, maybe more if weather turns against us."

*

Preparations took the rest of the morning. Supplies were gathered, weapons checked, and armor repaired where possible. The village came together to support them—providing food, offering what equipment they could spare, and expressing gratitude for everything Jaenor and his companions had done.

Rosaine found him as he was finishing his preparations.

"You’re leaving again," she said quietly. Not an accusation, just a sad acknowledgment.

"I am," Jaenor confirmed.

"There’s a threat that needs addressing. Witches who’ve betrayed their oaths, demons threatening innocents. I can’t ignore that."

"I know."

Rosaine moved closer, reaching up to cup his face with both hands—a gesture she’d done countless times when he was young, usually before scolding him for some childhood mischief.

"I am so proud of who you’ve become."

"I hope so," Jaenor said, voice rough with emotion.

She pulled him into a fierce embrace, and Jaenor held her tightly, drawing comfort from the physical connection.

"Come back," Rosaine whispered.

"Promise me you’ll come back. This village needs you. I need you."

"I’ll come back," Jaenor promised.

"However long it takes, whatever I have to do, I’ll come back."

They held the embrace for several more moments, then Rosaine pulled back, wiping at her eyes.

"Now go. Before I change my mind and try to lock you in a cellar to keep you safe."

Jaenor smiled despite the circumstances.

"I don’t think that would work."

"Probably not. But a mother can dream."

Other farewells followed.

Valara embraced Rena with the fierce protectiveness only mothers understood. Natina gave Taeryn a pendant she’d worn for decades, something to remember her by. Ryanna held Baren for long minutes, whispering words Jaenor couldn’t hear but could guess at—come back safe, remember what you’re fighting for, don’t be a hero if it means not coming home.

Finally, they gathered in the village square where Ba’narussa waited. The divine beast had been resting, but she rose as Jaenor approached, her head turning to focus on him with perfect synchronization.

Through their bond, Jaenor communicated destination and urgency. Ba’narussa understood immediately, her massive form shifting as she prepared for extended flight.

The companions climbed onto her back, finding their positions and securing themselves for the journey ahead. Jaenor took his usual place at the base of her neck, where he could maintain the closest connection.

The village had gathered to watch them depart, hundreds of people, from elderly lifelong residents to children who’d been born since Jaenor left. They stood in respectful silence, bearing witness to something that would become legend in the years to come.

Jaenor looked at them all, at the home he’d thought he’d never see again, at the people.

Then Ba’narussa’s wings unfurled, and with a single powerful thrust, they launched skyward.

The village fell away below them, growing smaller as they climbed. Jaenor watched until Frostvale was just a collection of buildings in a snow-covered valley, indistinguishable from a dozen other settlements.

Then he turned forward, toward the northwest, toward Barok’jnar and whatever waited there.

Traitor witches. Demon legions. Battles that would test everything they’d learned and everything they’d become.

But they flew toward it together.

*

The small village of Hesthara had been peaceful that morning.

Located in the western reaches of County Barok’jnar, it was home to perhaps three hundred people, mostly farmers, with a few craftsmen and traders. The kind of place where everyone knew everyone else, where children played in the streets without fear, and where the biggest concerns were crop yields and marriage prospects.

That peace shattered when the legion arrived.

They came from the north, moving with military precision that spoke of extensive training and a clear command structure. Not the chaotic swarm of typical demon raids, but an organized force with specific objectives.

At the vanguard rode three figures that the few survivors would remember with horror for the rest of their lives.

Elizabeth and Katerina, the witch sisters who’d once served the Covens with distinction. Their grey and silver robes were gone, replaced by dark armor marked with symbols that made the eye slide away from them, corruption given physical form. Their faces showed no remorse, no hesitation.

Only cold determination.

Beside them rode Lady Maude Peanna, the noble who’d sought membership in the Imperial Court and found a different path to power instead. She wore armor as well, practical and functional, and the sword at her hip was stained with blood that hadn’t been properly cleaned.

Behind this leadership came the legion itself.

Two hundred witches—women who’d sworn oaths to protect the realm, who’d spent years training to fight demons—now marching alongside them instead. Their origin energy blazed with corrupted signatures, tainted by whatever dark bargain had turned them from defenders to destroyers.

And surrounding them, integrated into their formations, were demons. Perhaps three thousand strong, with Black Orcs providing discipline and lesser demons filling out the ranks. They moved in coordination with the witches, a hybrid force that combined magical capability with demonic fury.