Imperator: Resurrection of an Empire-Chapter 399 - 394 -

"...then I’d let the Root have their chance."

The words lingered in my mind as I pushed the heavy oak door inward with my shoulder, Yuri’s weight balanced in my arms.

The hinges groaned softly—too softly for a door leading down into a dungeon—but then again, this was a noble’s private villa, not a fortress.

Even the shadows felt apologetic.

A breath of cold air slipped up from below, brushing against my face like the exhale of some hibernating creature.

Damp stone, old iron, a hint of mildew—nothing foul, merely the natural smell of neglect.

The torches along the stairway flickered, though no draft should have reached them.

I tightened my grip on her.

Her head rested against my upper chest, her hair draping warm against my collarbone.

And though I knew the moment she awoke she would not greet me with that gentle, mischievous smile that once made my chest flutter, I carried her as if she were still the same woman... because she was, buried somewhere beneath whatever they had forced into her mind.

My boot touched the first stone step.

The descent echoed—slow, steady, each footfall sending a dull thump through the narrow stairwell.

I adjusted my hold on her, careful not to jostle her too much.

She was unconscious now, but Saint Joan was not fragile; if her altered instincts sensed a threat when she awoke, she would break bones—hers or mine—without hesitation.

At the bottom of the stairs, a single torch sputtered beside the iron-banded door.

I nudged the latch open with my foot.

The hinges shrieked this time, properly offended.

Inside, the dungeon was small—only three cells, each barely enough for two men to lie down shoulder to shoulder.

The walls perspired faintly; old stone sucked in the cold like it was hoarding it.

Chains hung from wall-rings left by the manor’s former owners, the iron lightly rusted but intact.

A lanternglow cast a dim halo over one cell’s straw-strewn floor.

It would have to do.

I lay Yuri down gently, letting her head rest on the folded cloak I had prepared earlier.

The moment her body left my arms, a faint tremor passed through her fingers—a tiny twitch, more like a forgotten impulse than a movement.

My pulse jumped.

She wasn’t waking.

Not yet.

But something in her Aura stirred, faint and cold like moonlight striking steel.

I took a slow breath, flexing my fingers before reaching for the padded restraints I had ordered brought down.

They were soft against the skin but reinforced with steel wire inside—an ugly compromise between care and necessity.

"Forgive me," I murmured as I gently guided her wrists into them. "If you were awake... you’d break the door before I could finish a sentence."

Her breath was soft.

Even.

Almost peaceful.

Almost.

A faint bruise marked her neck from our duel—my doing, but the safest way to end it without needing to harm her further.

My stomach twisted around itself before I forced my focus back to the straps.

They clicked into place, not tight enough to hurt, just enough to stop Saint Joan from snapping her arm to dislocate a shoulder in an escape attempt.

When I finished securing the last restraint, I pulled the chair beside the cell door toward me, scraping its wooden legs over stone.

I set it down not outside the bars, but inside the cell.

Close enough that if she awoke confused, the first person she would see would be me—dangerous, perhaps, but calculated.

I sat.

The lantern’s glow swayed gently, casting slow-moving shadows over her sleeping face.

For a moment, I simply watched her breathe.

Then boots clattered distantly—someone descending the stairwell.

Not hurried.

Not panicked.

Just confident, disciplined steps.

Sabellus.

His silhouette appeared in the doorway before his face did.

"Caesar," he said quietly, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb her. "The last pockets in the resistance within the castle have been dealt with, aside from those hiding like vermins the city has been pacified. and even those who elude us so far they wont for long."

He lifted one hand, palm downward, and made a brief chopping motion.

I nodded once. "Good."

He stepped closer, glancing at Yuri bound to the cot.

His jaw tightened, though he tried not to show it.

"Elheat reports the cavalry is sweeping the outer farmlands. No resistance left. The capital is ours in full, and they are asking permission to head for the contested borders with Britannia to search for any holdouts that remain."

Another nod.

My gaze didn’t leave Yuri.

Sabellus hesitated, shifting his weight.

"The men are celebrating above. They want to see you. Hear from you."

I finally looked up at him.

"Later," I said.

He accepted that without argument.

"A messenger from the Root passed me on the stairs. They are beginning their sweep of the castle looking for any records of what was done to her, perhaps the prince was gracious enough to leave a method for curing her behind."

"Good."

He hesitated again, then stepped back toward the door.

"I’ll leave you to it, Caesar. Call if you need anything."

The door closed behind him with a soft thud.

His footsteps withdrew up the stairs until only the faint dripping of distant water remained.

Silence settled thickly.

I exhaled through my nose, resting my elbows on my knees, leaning forward.

Yuri’s fingers twitched again, ever so slightly.

Her eyelids quivered.

The faintest crease formed between her brows—the first sign of a struggle behind those eyes.

Her Aura spiked, a brief shimmer of silver-tinged hostility rippling through the air like distant thunder.

My hand drifted to the hilt at my waist—not to draw it, merely to rest my palm against it.

The restraints rattled softly as her arm jerked once.

Then stillness.

I leaned closer, eyes searching her face, waiting for the moment... the moment I knew would come sooner than I was ready for.

Her breathing hitched—half a gasp, half a choke.

A faint, hoarse sound escaped her throat. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

Her eyes fluttered.

And then—

They snapped open.