Chapter 114 – The Runaway Princess (4)

The sound of the wind scratching the walls of the ship could be heard.

Cyra looked blankly at the wall of her room. She was listless. Her eyes would sometimes look at the ring in her left hand. It was a ring made silver with a little gem carved by Zola through some means she didn’t know

She was fond of the ring. She could recall the day Silo gave it to her. It was a bliss getting the ring. She could not forget it for the rest of her life. Yet it may be the last good memory she will have. She was no en route to her father’s demesne. Soon she would live the life of a caged bird again.

Just like that she felt like the days of running away have come back. She thought that when she settled down in Edawick it would be all over. Yet through some cosmic joke, she was now flying straight to the hell she did everything to escape.

She heard footsteps coming outside. She stared listlessly only to see the door swung open. The pious pope softly walks inside with his hands on his back. He looked at Cyra, his eyes showing deep concern for her.

“I am truly sorry,” said the pious man. “I am only doing my holy duty of taking you back.”

Cyra looked at him and sneered. “Pity, didn’t know that you folks had that.”

“We do,” The pious man wryly smiled. “But we were ordered to secure you. We do not mean you harm and it may be hard to do so after treating your beloved like that.”

Cyra looked up. “You know my answer.”

“I do,” The pious man nodded. “Still we will not force you to forgive us. We do what we do for the sake our homes. You at least understand how your demesne could help the Holy Midland in our fight against the Bali and Cagan natives. We are spread thin and having our backs watched by the steam-powered machines of the Maltius La Fende will secure our victory.”

“And after that victory, you’ll eventually turn your sights at the Freelands and betray the demesne. My Lord Father’s no fool, and the alliance you Templars seek off will not last.”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But if the short alliance would allow us to tame the two native nations then it will be worth in the end. If forcing a maiden back to her despite her reluctance, I would do it, no questions asked.”

“Well aren’t you a good patriot?” Cyra snarled.

The pious man shrugged his shoulders. He kept silent and watched Cyra who was hugging her knees. The pious man stood still like a statue. He looked at the round window. The clouds were moving past them. “Humans sailing boats up the clouds. Things have started to change. If only there was no need for war.”

Cyra looked at the pious man. “The Templars could always stop and try to talk.”

“Talk?” the pious man laughed. “After all the killing and slaughter, do you think they would share the same table with us?”

Cyra inclined her head. “You could have done it differently.”

“And bow our heads to the invaders and let them subvert us? They are different from us. They can speak but their forms and natures are different. We cannot sleep with rabid dogs who suddenly goes berserk in the middle of the night when the moon is up.”

“And the only way is to slaughter them?”

“It is our right to defend ourselves. We cannot change the post and we cannot surrender. And in order to wind, we will use to get that favor from your father’s demesne.

“You silly people, do you really think my father would easily do that? Remember, I am a runaway, and given the time, my father should have already sired another son or daughter. He doesn’t need me at all.”

“Yet he still insists to have you back,” said the pious man. “You are a fully grown woman, a beautiful woman, and your father will have uses for you.”

Cyra hated to admit it but he was right. Her father can use her as a political a chip. A card he can play to further his interest. It was a sad reality and Cyra hates thinking that.

“In the end, I shall become a slave to my father again,” She said meekly. The pious man could not help but feel pity at Cyra. But he held that pity back. He hardened his heart and steeled his mind. Not letting emotions overtake his duties to his home.

“Sadly, that is your fate,” the pious man said. “I do not like doing this. My Homelands forbids slavery but for the good of my people I will throw you to the worst of fate.”

Cyra looked up. She couldn’t even bother to entertain the pious man before her. She just looked down and gaze at her ring.

The pious man didn’t say anything. He swung the door open and went outside. He looked at the hall of the ship. It was wooden and there were a few planks holding the hull. He crossed the hall and turned to the right to enter a room. He looked at the room. There was a chair. There was a table, filled with documents, there was a rack and the symbol of the Cross nailed near the cabinet. He sat down and reclined. He closed his eyes and thought of what he was doing. He despises these kinds of mission. Particularly, he hated separating people who loved each other. It disgusts him but what can he do? This was an important duty and if the alliance between the Holy Midland and the Maltius La Fende Demesne happens, then victory will be at their hands. There will be no need to send young men and women to their death. There would be a need for blood. There are still many factors to it but this was their best chance to have one of the strongest factions in the Livia Continent to join their side.

They would be able to defeat the Bali and Cagan natives who they were fighting for too long. He wasn’t foolish enough to think that there would be a lasting peace. But a respite from all the bloodshed and all the killing, would not hurt anyone.