229. Council of Otto

The first light of dawn spilled through the balcony doors, pale and golden, gliding across the tangled sheets and bare skin. The faint sea breeze carried the scent of salt and rain, making the curtains flutter like ghosts against the morning sun.Ravenna lay half-draped over Kenric, the silk coverlet tangled about their waists, her hair fanning across his chest in a dark cascade. The warmth of his body still clung to her, and for a rare moment, she allowed herself the illusion of peace. Her fingertips traced idle circles along the line of his spine, following each slow rise and fall of his breath.

“Do you feel relieved now?” she murmured, her voice a low hum, half teasing, half tender. Her lips brushed against the curve of his ear, and Kenric’s breath hitched softly in reply.

He turned to face her, eyes half-lidded with the contentment that came only after sleepless night shared in whispered sin. A lazy smile tugged at his lips as he pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, light, reverent. “I think so,” he murmured, his tone both tired and full of something unspoken. His fingers caught a strand of her hair, twirling it between calloused fingers. “This reminds me of the palace… of those days before everything fell apart.”

Ravenna chuckled quietly, the sound smooth as wine. “Peaceful, weren’t they? When Mother was alive, the world felt almost tame.” She propped herself on an elbow, the sheet slipping down her shoulder as she looked at him with that familiar smirk that made every word feel like a test.

Kenric’s gaze softened as he reached up to tuck the stray strand of her hair behind her ear. “If I can find my sister… if I can finally put that chapter to rest,” he said quietly, “then maybe I can stand by your side without reservation.”

For a moment, Ravenna didn’t speak. Her hand came to rest on his chest, fingers splayed over his heart, feeling the steady rhythm beneath her palm. The faintest hint of emotion flickered behind her eyes, too fast to name. Then, as always, she hid it behind her grin.

“You always say such noble things after you’ve sinned,” she whispered, her tone laced with amusement. “Makes me wonder if that’s your repentance or your excuse.”

Kenric laughed softly, the sound low and fond. He caught her wrist and kissed the inside of her palm. “Maybe both, Your Highness.”

“Mm.” Ravenna hummed in response, brushing her lips against his once more, slow, deliberate, the kind of kiss that carried more promise than tenderness. But as she pulled back, her eyes sharpened again, the ruler returning where the woman had been moments before.

“Now,” Kenric said, his tone turning serious, “I know you’d love to stay here and pretend the world doesn’t exist for another hour, but…” He smirked as she arched a brow at him. “We have a council meeting to attend. And I’d rather not test the patience of every merchant lord in Otto City even if we are in state of dread."

Ravenna groaned lightly, flopping back onto the bed for a brief, exaggerated sigh. “Ugh, responsibility, my least favorite lover.”

Kenric laughed again, standing as the morning light caught the lines of his back. “And yet it’s the one that keeps you alive.”

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“Barely,” Ravenna muttered, though the corner of her mouth twitched upward as she rose, gathering her robe from the chair. She fastened it around her waist, the rich black fabric sliding against her skin like a second shadow.

Within minutes, both were dressed, her in her traveling gown of thick wool of imperial shade trimmed in gold, him in a dark leather doublet that marked him as both gentleman and mercenary.

Few Hours Later, The underground path, The Gilded Loom, Otto City, Free Cities, Southern Islands, Eastern Continent

The air below the inn was heavy with the scent of candle wax, wine, and sea-salt damp. The chamber that had served as Kenric’s safe house now bore the weight of authority, its once-empty benches occupied by the most powerful lords and ladies of the Otto Council. Lanternlight gleamed on jeweled fingers and rings heavy with merchant crests. Behind every noble sat an attendant or interpreter, each one clutching a scroll or ledger, their faces marked with careful neutrality.

At the head of the table sat Ravenna, legs crossed, posture regal, her dark gown pooling around her like liquid shadow. To her left sat Kenric and his men; to her right, Marie, Hughes, and the Knights of Kim City, their armor polished to a mirror finish.

The murmurs of Hilde and Ancorna tongues intertwined through the air like competing melodies, the clicking of quills and shuffling of parchment filling the silences between words. One by one, the remaining council members arrived, taking their seats with practiced politeness and veiled suspicion. Every single one of them had brought their own interpreter.

Ravenna couldn’t help but smirk at the sight. “Merchants are always extra careful, aren’t they…” she murmured under her breath, watching as one particularly nervous merchant’s interpreter leaned forward, whispering translations that would likely never be needed.

When the final arrival, Councilman Nathan, a broad-shouldered man with a merchant’s measured gaze entered the chamber, the atmosphere tightened. He bowed with restrained formality before taking his seat near the far end of the table.

Kenric leaned toward Ravenna, his expression composed. “That’s everyone,” he said quietly.

Ravenna nodded once. Then, in the calm tone of someone who commanded the room simply by existing within it, she said, “Let us begin.”

Her voice carried through the chamber, sharp yet fluid, every syllable like a blade wrapped in silk. Kenric translated it into Hilde with perfect clarity, and the gathered council straightened instinctively, eyes turning toward her.

The customary introductions began, each lord and lady offering a polite greeting through their interpreter, their words smooth but measured. Kenric returned the formalities on Ravenna’s behalf, switching between languages like a diplomat born to it.

Once the ritual pleasantries were complete, Councilman Nathan rose slightly from his chair, resting both palms on the table.

“Your Highness,” he began in accented Ancornan, before nodding for his interpreter to continue in Hilde for the others. “We were told by Mister Kenric that you wished to discuss a potential solution to Otto City’s current… predicament with Bolita.”

Ravenna tilted her head slightly, watching him like a cat watching a bird test the limits of its own courage. Her fingers tapped the table once, twice, a deliberate rhythm that echoed faintly against the stone. Then, with that disarming smile of hers that always preceded something dangerous, she spoke.

“Before I answer that…” she said, voice smooth as oil, “why don’t we begin with something simple?”

Her gaze swept across the table, from the jeweled hands of the merchant lords to the gloved fingers of the Hilde interpreters, pausing on each pair of eyes that dared meet hers.

“An oath,” she continued, her smirk deepening. “That none among you are spies for the Conley Empire, nor agents of those who seek to undermine Otto City’s freedom.”

A murmur ran through the room, soft, uncertain laughter from a few, silence from the rest.

Kenric leaned forward, translating every word into Hilde. The reaction was immediate: whispers, sideways glances, the nervous tightening of shoulders.

Ravenna rested her chin lightly on her hand, amusement glimmering in her eyes as she observed them. “Surely,” she said sweetly, “none of you have reason to fear such a simple oath?”