Chapter seven: Whispers of a Kingdom

The tavern’s old wood creaked as Cid, Harold, and Arthur sat nursing their drinks in silence. Shadows from the fire danced across the walls, flickering like memories they’d rather forget. Tomorrow loomed, heavy and certain.

“So… you’re leaving tomorrow,” Harold muttered, swirling his glass.

Arthur leaned back with a crooked grin. “Come with us, old man. Could use another blade at my side.”

Harold scoffed. “Someone has to stay behind and make sure this place doesn’t fall into sand. Besides—an old dog like me has no business chasing the chaos you lot attract.” His eyes shifted to Cid. “Where are you headed first?”

Cid leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “First to the capital. Arthur wants to show me something. After that… Alfrey. Their capital. I need to find Emily.”

At her name, his voice softened, though his eyes hardened like stone.

Harold raised his drink in a silent toast. “Good luck, kid. Monsters like you don’t get easy roads.”

“I know,” Cid said quietly, his gaze fixed on the fire. “I’ve been one my whole life.”

Arthur smirked. “Still don’t understand what happened back there. Your eyes—they turned purple before you collapsed. What was that?”

Cid exhaled slowly. “It was like… a flow state. Different from the red eye. With the purple, I can move particles freely, without limits. But I can’t trigger it on command. Not yet.”

The conversation dwindled into silence. Bottles emptied. Laughter came slow, heavy with exhaustion. Eventually, they staggered back to the dorms, half-drunk, half-content, and wholly unprepared for tomorrow’s road.

Back in his room, Cid opened the door with a tired smile. “Honey.”

Fenrona lay curled on the bed, silver hair spilling like moonlight across the sheets. Her purple eyes lifted, soft and warm. “You drank again, love,” she teased with a sleepy laugh. “Come here.”

He crawled into her arms, nestling against her chest. Her warmth wrapped around him like a blanket against the world.

“Gods, you’re so soft,” he murmured.

Her arms tightened around him. “You can sleep like this as long as you need, my love.”

Sleep came quickly.

Morning bled into the chamber, pale light cutting through the stone slit in the wall. Cid stirred first, blinking blearily—only to realize where his head rested. He groaned.

“Honey…”

Fenrona’s eyes fluttered open. She smiled lazily. “Good morning, love.”

“Did I do it again?” he muttered, face red.

“Yes,” she giggled, her tail swishing against the blankets. “You must really like them. You keep using them as your pillow.”

He groaned louder, hiding his face in embarrassment. “I guess I do.”

She leaned down, kissing his forehead. “I love you, you know that?”

“I love you too,” he whispered.

The washroom door creaked, and Sith emerged, rubbing her eyes. “Good morning, you two.”

“You awake already?” Fenrona asked with a smile. “I’ve already washed—you’re after Cid.”

“He was that drunk?” Sith asked, tugging on her shirt.

“Yes,” Fenrona answered with a giggle.

“You both know I’m still here,” Cid muttered, covering his face again.

Sith grinned and hugged him from the side. “You have to leave, don’t you, big, big brother?”

Cid sighed, resting a hand on her head. “I’m sorry. But yes. I promise I’ll visit.”

Her eyes softened. “Fine. But when you come back, I’ll be stronger than you.”

Cid chuckled, ruffling her hair. “We’ll see about that.”

They finished dressing and made their way to the mess hall for their last breakfast in Shadow-Lair.

“Eat fast,” Merly said, already stacking plates. “We’ve got a long day ahead.”

Laughter and teasing filled the room, warmth carrying them through the meal. But when silence settled, it was heavier than any farewell.

“How far is the capital?” Fenrona asked softly.

“Two days normally,” Merly said. “But there’s a teleporter not far from here. Cuts the journey short.”

“Good,” Cid said. “We’ll stay in the capital a few days. Then Alfrey. Full speed, we should reach the village in a week.”

After breakfast, they gathered their packs. Harold waited by the gates, coffee still in hand.

“Goodbye, kids,” he said, voice gruff but his eyes soft. “Watch your backs.”

Sith stood beside him, waving with a forced smile. “Next time I see you, I’ll be stronger than all of you!”

“We’ll hold you to that,” Cid said, grinning.

The group hiked through the forest until the teleporter’s stone platform came into view near the edge of the White Desert.

“Finally,” Merly sighed.

“Getting soft?” Arthur teased.

“Keep talking, and you’ll sleep alone tonight,” she shot back.

They stepped onto the runes. Light shimmered, wrapping around their bodies like living fire.

In a single blink, the world twisted.

And Shadow-Lair vanished behind them.

The capital awaited.

The capital was vast—grander than anything Cid had ever seen. Marble towers stretched into the sky, their spires crowned with banners that caught the sun like fire. The castle at the city’s heart shimmered, veiled in gold, its walls engraved with centuries of triumph and blood.

“Welcome to the capital,” Arthur said calmly, though his voice carried a weight only Cid seemed to hear.

Before Cid and Fenrona could marvel, armored boots thundered against stone. A phalanx of guards surged forward, spears gleaming with magic-infused steel. The air prickled with killing intent.

“Your Majesty—are you unharmed?” a golden-armored commander barked, moving to block Arthur’s path.

Cid stepped in front of Fenrona, Clain half-drawn, his voice low and cold. “Stay behind me, honey. Touch her, and I’ll kill every last one of you.”

The commander scowled. “Silence, stranger”

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But Arthur’s voice cut like a blade. “Patrick, what in the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The soldiers froze.

Arthur descended the stairs, his glare fixed on the commander. “If Cid decided to fight, not only would all your men fall, but so would Merly and I. Lower your weapons—unless you want him to make that choice for you.”

“Are you certain, Your Majesty?” Patrick asked, his grip tightening on his spear.

Arthur turned his back on them. “Find out the hard way, if you must.”

Patrick hesitated. Then his gaze met Cid’s. For a moment, the commander’s breath caught the weight of something monstrous pressed against his chest. His knees nearly buckled.

“What will it be, Patrick?” Cid asked, his hand resting casually on Clain’s hilt.

Patrick’s throat bobbed. “Release them. Now.”

The soldiers backed away, muttering uneasily.

Cid and Fenrona walked forward, hand in hand.

“Was that necessary, love?” Fenrona whispered.

“It never is,” Cid answered quietly. “But I’ll be the monster they fear if that’s what it takes to protect you.”

Her tail brushed his hand, a gentle sway. “Just don’t forget the man I love—the one only I see.”

“Never, honey,” he said softly, patting her head.

At the castle gates, two guards crossed their arms, blocking the way.

“You don’t have permission to enter,” one growled. “Leave, or be forced to.”

“We are friends of King Arthur and Queen Merly,” Cid said evenly.

The other sneered. “Lies. The king would never befriend filth like this beast-girl.”

Cid’s eyes sharpened. His voice dropped to a growl. “Watch your mouth. She’s my wife.”

“Of course she is,” the guard spat. “Filth breeds filth.”

Above, Arthur’s voice rang out from a balcony, calm yet merciless. “Cid, you have my permission to punish that man.”

Fenrona tugged Cid’s sleeve gently. “Just a punishment, love. Not death.”

Cid nodded. Clain flashed once. A hand fell to the ground. The guard screamed, clutching the bleeding stump.

“Now may we pass?” Cid asked coldly.

The second guard dropped to his knees. “Yes, sir. Thank you… for your mercy.”

Inside the throne room, Merly greeted them with a weary smile. “Apologies. Nobles here can be… sour.”

Cid dropped to a knee, smirking. “My queen.”

Merly rolled her eyes. “If you’re going to kneel, at least mean it.”

Arthur appeared at her side, descending the marble steps. “Cid. Come with me. There’s something you need to see. Underground.”

Before leaving, Cid kissed Fenrona’s forehead. “Whatever happens, don’t feel guilty. That’s my choice alone. I love you.”

“And I love you too,” she whispered, clutching his hand before letting him go.

Beneath the castle, the air grew cooler, damp with ancient age. They stepped into a hidden garden—untouched, lush, glowing faintly with an otherworldly shimmer. At its heart stood a single stone, a sword buried deep within. Its hilt gleamed faintly, but its blade seemed asleep.

“This place…” Cid murmured, eyes wide. “It feels alive.”

Arthur gestured toward the stone. “That is a Soulless Weapon. Neither regular nor bound. Forged to receive a soul—but never did. It waits… for someone, or something. Rarer than any other.”

“So there’s a fourth category,” Cid said, staring at it.

Arthur’s grin was sharp. “One day, I’ll pull it. I can feel chaos drawn to this blade. If I do—and chaos takes me—you must kill me. Only you could.”

Cid’s jaw tightened. Then he extended his hand. “I promise, my friend.”

Arthur clasped it firmly. “Thank you.”

They turned back toward the halls. “Come,” Arthur said. “I’ll show you your rooms.”

Later that night, in Arthur and Merly’s chamber, Patrick entered, bowing stiffly.

“Who is that man, Your Majesty?” he asked.

Arthur sipped his tea calmly. “So you felt it too. That weight.”

Patrick nodded uneasily.

Arthur set his cup down. “Then start a rumor. About a cursed man who walks the Middle Lands with an empty core. A man who fought and defeated the celestial Time itself. With nothing but his hands.”

Patrick’s eyes widened. “He truly did that?”

Arthur leaned back, a shadow of a smile on his lips. “Yes. And I want the world to tremble when they hear his name.”

In the morning at great hall buzzed with low whispers when Cid and Fenrona entered at Arthur’s side. Gold light streamed through tall windows, catching on polished steel and noble silk. Dozens of eyes turned toward them—curious, wary, hungry for gossip.

Arthur rose from the high table, his voice ringing with command.

“Everyone. Today I’d like to formally acknowledge our honored guests. Cidolfus Lynvern—last survivor of Moonlight Village—and his wife, Fenrona, daughter of King Cency of Linter. From this day forward, you will treat them with the respect they deserve.”

A ripple of shock moved through the crowd. Murmurs rose. Some stared at Fenrona’s ears, others at Cid’s calm composure.

Cid stood, his hand brushing Fenrona’s. He bowed, voice steady.

“It is an honor to be here. I thank His Majesty for the invitation—and for his friendship.”

The hall stilled. A child in years, yet his words carried the weight of a seasoned man. Several nobles straightened, as though realizing they were in the presence of something they could not yet name.

Arthur smiled faintly. “One more thing. The rumor you’ve all heard—it’s true. I saw it with my own eyes. This man fought and defeated the celestial Time itself. With nothing but his hands.”

The silence shattered into cheers and applause, voices rising until the vaulted hall rang with it. Some raised cups in salute; others called his name.

Fenrona’s hand tightened in his. He gave her a small smile.

Then Merly rose, cheeks touched with color. “And… since the king insists on sharing news, I’ll add mine. I’m pregnant.”

The cheer doubled. Nobles laughed, toasted, clapped each other on the back. For a moment, the hall glowed with joy.

Week passed.

Cid and Fenrona wandered the marble streets together, exploring markets heavy with spice and song, gardens that smelled of roses, and taverns alive with laughter. At first, people whispered when they passed. Some muttered about curses. Some sneered at Fenrona’s ears.

But the whispers changed.

They became cautious. Then respectful. Then reverent.

When Cid and Fenrona walked the avenues hand in hand, people began to bow. Children pointed and called him hero. Old merchants pressed gifts into Fenrona’s arms, muttering blessings for her child yet unborn.

The rumor had become legend.

And the legend walked among them.

That night, back in their chamber, Cid held Fenrona close, his head resting against her chest. Her heartbeat calmed him more than any ale ever could.

“You drank again, love,” she teased, fingers combing slowly through his hair.

“Just wanted to be close to you,” he murmured.

She smiled faintly. “Rest, my monster.”

But Cid shifted, his voice low. “We need to do something special tomorrow.”

“Why?”

He looked up with a grin. “Because it’s your birthday, silly.”

Her golden eyes widened. “You remembered?”

“Of course I did.”

Her arms tightened around him. “You’re too good to me.”

They drifted to sleep like that—her arms wrapped around him, his warmth pressed into her chest.

The morning sun dragged Cid from sleep. He blinked, realizing his face was buried deep between Fenrona’s breasts.

“Honey!” he groaned.

She opened one eye lazily. “What is it, love?”

He blushed hard. “Happy birthday.”

Her smile lit the room. “Thank you, my love. I love you.”

He kissed her slowly, tenderly, and for a fleeting moment, curses, kingdoms, and looming storms melted away.

They rose together, the castle light pouring golden through high windows. They showered, letting the warm water wash away months of blood and battle. For once, they were just man and woman—allowed to be soft.

Later, wrapped in robes, they stepped onto the balcony of the castle’s top floor. Cid poured steaming tea into two cups.

“It’s been too long since we’ve been this at peace,” he murmured.

“We deserve it,” Fenrona said, accepting her cup with a smile.

“You deserve it more,” he whispered, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him, her head against his shoulder.

“Thank you, my love,” she breathed.

“Today is yours,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Tomorrow we move—but today, whatever you want.”

“Then I want to spend it with Arthur and Merly,” she said softly.

“Then that’s what we’ll do.”

Arthur and Merly came. No crowns, no armor—just two friends. They sat with Cid and Fenrona, drank tea and beer, laughed until their sides ached. For a few hours, they weren’t legends, or cursed, or feared. They were simply four souls who had survived too much, clinging to youth before it slipped away again.

When the night grew late, Merly tugged Arthur up by the arm, scolding him gently.

“Majesty, you drink like a farmer. Let’s get you to bed.”

“Bye, Fen. Good luck with him—and in Alfrey,” Merly said warmly.

Back in their chamber, Fenrona lay on the bed with her arms wide. “Come, love.”

“Only if I can sleep on you again,” Cid teased, already half-drunk.

She laughed softly. “I’m starting to think you drink just for that.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, collapsing against her chest.

“You’re so cute,” she whispered, curling her tail around him. “And you’re mine.”

Together, they sank into a peace too rare for their kind.

At dawn, they rose for their last breakfast in Camelot. Tomorrow, Alfrey awaited—and with it, fate.

The roads stretched endlessly, silent beneath the weight of unseen things. Not a merchant’s cart, not a traveler’s step, not even the song of a bird touched their path. The silence was uncanny, heavy—as though something ancient stirred beyond hearing.

Arthur’s warning echoed in Cid’s mind. “The quieter the road, the sharper you stay.”

Cid and Fenrona walked hand in hand, their cloaks pulled by the restless wind. Days melted together—one, two, five, then seven. At last, the ridge broke, and beyond it lay the village. Small. Quiet. Waiting like a memory long-buried.

“We’re close,” Cid said, his voice low but steady.

Fenrona halted. Her hand moved to her side.

“Honey?” Cid asked, stepping toward her, worry in his pale brown eyes.

She smiled faintly. “I’m fine, love. Just… the child. It’s growing faster than I thought.”

Cid reached out, cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing softly against her skin. He kissed her forehead, lingering there a heartbeat longer than usual. “Then we don’t rush. Tonight, we rest here.”

By sundown, a small fire burned. Fenrona lay curled against him, wrapped in their blanket, her ear pressed to his chest, listening to the rhythm that had become her safest lullaby.

“Sleep, honey,” he whispered, his lips brushing her silver hair. “I’ll keep watch.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, her breathing falling into peace. Cid sat still, gaze fixed on the horizon, the weight of the sword at his side, the warmth of her body against him. For once, both burdens felt the same—something worth guarding until his last breath.

Dawn spilled gold over the hills, scattering the night. Cid woke to find her still sleeping beside him, her face soft in the morning light. He smiled and kissed her gently awake.

The village lingered on the horizon—not as a wound, not as a memory of fire and blood.

This time, they did not return as cursed children.

This time, they came as something more.

Together.