Chapter 89

A hundred knights from Eisenwald were selected to join the allied army. The decision came only after long deliberation, and among them, there was but one commander of higher rank. The rest were mostly young lower knights—men still ruled by their own vigor and pride, eager to prove their worth where their elders preferred stability over risk.

The mercenaries, too, stirred like hornets. Each guild was forming new alliances, expanding their ranks as though the war were a lucrative festival. Their frenzy was understandable. For them, the battlefield was not a place of death—it was a marketplace of opportunity, where every swing of a sword might earn a fortune.

And the enemy? The barbarians—at least that was what everyone called them, with the same carelessness one might use when naming a pest. The consensus was that these foes were dangerous, yes, but not too dangerous, not the sort to truly threaten one’s life. That blend of arrogance and ambition—of wanting to make a name for oneself without the real fear of losing it—drove a staggering number of mercenaries to Anatolia, eager to bathe in glory and blood in equal measure.

“It’s going to be chaos,” Malena muttered, her tone dry as dust. “A proper circus. This is the biggest commission in years—every glory-hungry fool with a blade will want in.”

She knew the mercenary trade far too well, and her prediction came with grim certainty. Once mercenaries joined a war, order disintegrated. Private bands had no loyalty to anyone but their coin purses, and whichever side paid more was the one they served—until a better offer came along.

“Some will go after officers,” she continued with a shrug, “but most are just after prisoners. Doesn’t matter whether they’re from the alliance or the barbarians—hostages fetch good ransom. You’ll see. The real war will be in who can sell faster, not who can fight better.”

Odelliana felt her jaw tighten. She still remembered the last time she had dealt with such chaos—supply wagons raided by their own hired swords, weapons stolen in the night, food disappearing before dawn. Even imagining it again was enough to raise her temper.

“Seems there’s no shortage of men who don’t value their own necks,” Malena remarked, with that half-amused smirk of hers. “Not me, though. I like living too much to chase death for a bit of silver.”

“Really?” Odelliana arched a brow. “That’s unexpected. Judging by your reputation, I would’ve thought you’d taken your fair share of dangerous commissions.”

Malena gave a small laugh. “I specialized in intelligence work. Sure, I’m taller and stronger than most women, but next to a squad of mercenary brutes? I’d be trampled before I even drew my sword.”

“True enough,” Odelliana said with a faint smile. “Female mercenaries rarely see the front lines.”

Much like me, she thought. Even as a knight, my place hasn’t changed that much. Still working from the shadows, slipping through cracks where no one else dares.

“Honestly,” Malena said, lowering her voice, “it still doesn’t feel real. The allied army, all these banners under one cause—it’ll be over quickly, right?”

“We can only hope,” Odelliana murmured.

Malena studied her for a long moment, her eyes narrowing slightly. “My lady,” she said carefully, “forgive me for asking, but… do you have the gift of foresight?”

Odelliana blinked. “What?”

“Well,” Malena began, embarrassed by her own words, “when you first came to Eisenwald, you were quite concerned about the state of the walls. You insisted they be reinforced, almost obsessively so. At the time, everyone thought it excessive. But now—well, with all this—one might wonder if you saw it coming.”

She flushed, clearly aware of how absurd she sounded. But Odelliana couldn’t deny that her question struck a nerve. Life had a way of humbling skeptics—she had lived enough of it to know.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Odelliana replied with a small laugh. “If I had such a gift, I’d have saved myself a great deal of trouble by now. Eisenwald’s walls were an obvious problem. Anyone could see that.”

“Then maybe you’re not a prophet,” Malena said slyly, “but something else—perhaps a beast wearing human skin?”

Odelliana gave her an incredulous look. “So I’m not even human now?”

“I’m saying,” Malena countered with a grin, “that there’s something unusual about you. Always has been. I felt it from the moment we met.”

Odelliana tilted her head, recalling their first meeting. “Unusual? In what way?”

“It’s hard to explain,” Malena admitted. “You have this air about you—as if you’re holding the world in your hands and watching it turn.”

Odelliana frowned, half in disbelief. “What?”

“Detached from it all,” Malena said softly. “Like someone who stands outside the chaos and sees it for what it is. It’s… strange, but I found it almost divine. You weren’t at all the woman I expected. I’d imagined someone cruel, severe, even violent—just like the gloomy annex where you lived. But instead…”

“Instead?”

“Instead, you were calm. Too calm. Like someone who already knew how everything would end.”

Odelliana chuckled. “So the infamous rumors didn’t live up to your expectations?”

“Exactly. Your reputation was far worse than the truth.”

She laughed outright at that. “Well, I was quite the spectacle back then.”

“Yet now,” Malena said with a hint of mischief, “they call you a saint.”

Odelliana groaned, her smile fading. “Saint? Honestly, I preferred ‘the mad lady’ to that. Who on earth came up with such a repulsive nickname?”

“The people at the charity house you supported, of course. Speaking of which,” Malena added quickly, “I made inquiries about that embroidery instructor you mentioned. It turns out Lady Winterke has some skill with the needle.”

“Lady Winterke?” Odelliana repeated, thinking.

“The wife of Sir Winterke—the quartermaster of the knights,” Malena explained.

“Ah. Was he excluded from the allied expedition?”

“Yes, he stayed behind as part of the garrison.”

Odelliana nodded. The quartermaster’s post placed him directly beneath the commandant, making him one of the key figures in the local defense. “Send word to his wife,” she said at last. “I’d like to meet her as soon as possible.”

***

Lady Winterke agreed without hesitation.

“Lady Winterke has arrived, my lady,” the maid announced.

“Please, bring her to the drawing room.”

Odelliana changed into a clean gown, brushed her hair, and made sure she looked as proper as possible before entering. When she opened the door, Lady Winterke rose immediately and curtsied deeply.

“Thank you for coming,” Odelliana said, offering her hand.

“The honor is mine, Lady Odelliana. I’m told you seek an embroidery tutor. I’m grateful you thought of me.”

Lady Flintess Winterke was around the same age as Blair. She had married Sir Winterke less than two years ago—a match that made her, in technical terms, old enough to be Odelliana’s aunt.

“I hope it’s not too much trouble,” Odelliana said. “I’ve never learned to embroider.”

“To start with a handkerchief, then?”

“Yes. I’m afraid I’ve never been gifted with delicate hands. I can handle a sword or a spear, but needles…” She gave a rueful smile. “Let’s just say I’ve never been good at anything requiring fine detail.”

“That’s perfectly fine,” Lady Winterke replied kindly. “Do you have a particular design in mind? If you describe it, I can prepare a pattern.”

“What’s most common?”

“Flowers, usually. Or family crests—symbols of heritage or honor. Some embroider motifs that represent the person they’re gifting it to.”

Something that represents Mathias… Odelliana thought silently.

“Or,” Lady Winterke added with a conspiratorial smile, “a secret mark known only to the two of you. Lovers often do that.”

“A secret mark?” Odelliana repeated, startled.

“Yes. Something private, meaningful only between you two.” She pulled out a folded handkerchief and showed it to her. “My husband and I share this design. It combines both our family emblems into a single crest.”

Odelliana studied it closely. The craftsmanship was exquisite, the threads forming a delicate entwined pattern—unity expressed through silk and patience.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured.

Lady Winterke smiled. “Would you like something similar?”

Odelliana hesitated. “Perhaps… a black wolf?”

Her teacher looked up, intrigued.

Jocelyn’s words echoed in her mind—Mathias’s true form, cloaked in black fur, fierce and untamed. The wolf suited him perfectly: proud, dangerous, loyal to none but his own. Even in his human guise, there was something wolfish about the man—the sharpness in his eyes, the way he watched her as though ready to strike or protect, depending on his mood.

“A black wolf, then,” Lady Winterke said warmly. “That can be done. I’ll bring the materials and a simple pattern tomorrow, if that suits you?”

“So soon?”

“Of course. You’re a beginner, and I imagine time is short. We’ll keep it simple—outline work, mostly. Nothing elaborate, but enough to make it personal.”

“Thank you,” Odelliana said softly.

Despite Lady Winterke’s assurance that it would be an easy task, Odelliana felt as though she were preparing for battle. She spent the next day hunched over the fabric, her brow furrowed, fingers pricked raw. The needle slipped more often than it landed true, and she cursed under her breath more times than she could count. Still, she persisted, the faint outline of a wolf slowly emerging beneath her hands.

When dawn came—on the very morning the expedition was set to depart—she finally knotted the last thread and sat back, exhausted, staring at her handiwork. The “black wolf” she had envisioned looked… less than majestic.

Malena, ever tactful, leaned over to inspect it. After a long pause, she said, utterly deadpan, “Is that… a lump of coal?”

Odelliana could only stare at her, speechless, before bursting into helpless laughter. The sound echoed through the chamber, rich and unrestrained—the laughter of someone who knew that perfection was the least of her concerns.

Even if it looked like a smudge instead of a wolf, the sentiment was hers alone. And perhaps, she thought, he would understand that.