The Demon of The North-Chapter 140 - 139. Spirit Kings Bearer

Viscount Borough’s Port

Right before Roxanne turned toward the shore with Vivianne in her arms, she caught sight of a magic flare streaking across the distant sky. Her brow furrowed as she slowed midair, eyes narrowing while she followed its fading trail toward the horizon.

Vivianne noticed at once where her wife was looking. The spirits stirred around her in response, answering her silent request, peeling back distance and mist alike. In the next heartbeat, Vivianne shared her vision.

"Three more ships," she said quietly, her voice steady. "Almost identical to the one I destroyed."

Roxanne’s aura rippled outward, a low, dangerous growl vibrating deep in her chest. "That’s—"

She could see them now: three massive vessels lingering far on the horizon, their silhouettes warped and wrong against the line where sea met sky. They were waiting for the scout ship that had pursued the Aerthysian fleets, the very ship Vivianne had erased from existence.

And now, somehow, someone had dared to draw those ships toward land, toward a port, despite the decree Roxanne herself had issued warning every citizen not to interfere. Her jaw tightened as the realization settled, sharp and unwelcome.

"Rothschild territory," Vivianne finished quietly, already knowing where her wife’s thoughts had gone. "The port. About three days from here."

That port isn’t just another name carved into a map; for Vivianne, it’s a place steeped in memory, heavy with beginnings that should have been gentle and untouched. It was where her parents had first met, where a wandering gypsy omega female, silver-haired and violet-eyed, had crossed paths with a nobleman who had never been meant to love her, and yet did so anyway.

A love born quietly, against expectation, fragile as morning mist. A place that should have remained sacred. And now, it stood on the edge of something monstrous.

Roxanne’s gaze remained fixed on the horizon, where the last remnants of the magic flare still burned faintly in her vision, like an insult branded into the sky itself. Her aura tightened, dark and oppressive, the air around her trembling as restrained fury coiled deeper and deeper in her chest.

Someone small-minded and arrogant enough had dared to summon those ships. Had dared to beckon them closer. Had dared to act as though her decree meant nothing.

"That damned beta bastard," Roxanne snarled under her breath, her jaw locking so tightly it ached. "How dare he belittle me this way."

That port isn’t just another name on a map, not merely a stretch of docks and stone marked by banners and tariffs. For Vivianne, it’s a place weighted with memory, fragile and sacred in ways no decree or border could ever define.

It was where her parents had first met, where a wandering gypsy omega with silver hair and soft purple eyes had crossed paths with a nobleman who had never intended to fall in love, yet had done so all the same. A place of beginnings, of quiet defiance against bloodlines and expectations. A place that should have remained untouched.

Now, it stood on the edge of something monstrous.

Roxanne stared toward the horizon; the fading magic flare was still burned into her vision like an insult that refused to cool. Her aura rippled outward, dense and heavy, the air trembling with restrained fury as her jaw tightened.

"That damned beta bastard," she growled, the words vibrating low in her chest. "How dare he belittle me this way."

For her, Valdemar’s action wasn’t simple disobedience. It was presumption of the highest order. She had issued a decree to the entire empire, clear and absolute, warning every noble and citizen not to interfere until she deemed the situation safe.

The unknown fleets drifting in from another continent aren’t merchants, not pilgrims, not something to be greeted with flares and ambition. They are a threat wrapped in uncertainty, and uncertainty isn’t something an emperor could afford to indulge.

Yet Valdemar de Rothschild had gazed at the darkness on the sea and chosen to embrace arrogance. He had not asked for permission. He had not waited for a command.

He had sent a signal into the void as if summoning traders instead of monsters, as if calling opportunity rather than danger. As if Roxanne were a distant symbol to be ignored, not the emperor who ruled the whole continent and the fate of the empire itself.

The wind roared around them as they flew toward Viscount Borough, Roxanne carrying Vivianne with ease, her wings cutting through the clouds. "What should I do with your brother?" she asked, her voice steady.

"Teach him a lesson," Vivianne replied without hesitation.

Roxanne exhaled slowly. "It will probably destroy half of the Rothschild’s territory."

"It’s inevitable. I’m not a saint. If he keeps thinking his actions have no consequences, he will never learn." Vivianne didn’t look away.

"Do you want Liselotte to know about it?" Roxanne glanced at her, knowing there were old wounds beneath that calm resolve.

Vivianne is quiet for a moment before answering. "I’ll talk to her once we land. She’s also a Rothschild. I was also a Rothschild. That blood is something I can’t deny."

Roxanne nodded, tightening her hold as they surged forward. "Well noted, sweetheart."

The moment their feet touched solid ground at the Borough’s territory port, Roxanne’s presence snapped quickly with authority. "Mara," Roxanne said, "you’re going to Rothschild territory. Straight to their port. Valdemar de Rothschild has just summoned a nightmare into his own land."

Mara straightened at once, crimson eyes sharp, excitement and duty colliding in her chest. Roxanne continued without pause, already calculating every possible outcome.

The moment their boots touched solid ground, Roxanne’s presence seemed to press down on the port like an invisible weight. The air itself stilled, as if the land recognized its ruler and held its breath. Dockworkers, knights, refugees—everyone froze, instinctively bowing before they even realized they were doing it.

Roxanne doesn’t waste time.

"Mara," she said, her voice calm, dangerously so, "you will go to Rothschild territory. Straight to their port." Her crimson eyes flicked briefly toward the horizon, where the fading trail of magic flare still lingered like a scar across the sky. "Valdemar de Rothschild has just summoned a nightmare into his own lands."

Mara straightened at once, her expression sharp, all levity gone. "Understood."

"There is no need to rush blindly," Roxanne continued, folding her wings back as if restraining an urge to take flight herself. "Let the consequences arrive first. Maxim will move to reinforce you once you’re there." Her lips curved faintly.

She remembers what Vivianne asked from her: to teach Valdemar a lesson. Not rushing to save them means letting a nightmare come to the Rothschild territory first. "Leonhart will likely follow. That man has been restless ever since the fleets appeared—itching for a fight. Let him have it."

Mara almost smiled at that.

"Red will remain here," Roxanne went on, already calculating a dozen outcomes ahead, "with Marvessa. Secure the refugees, lock down the docks, and make sure no one panics. I don’t want chaos spreading faster than the truth."

Mara bowed deeply, fist pressed to her chest. "Understood, Your Highness."

Vivianne, meanwhile, moved herself out from Roxanne’s arms. "I’ll be resting in the carriage while talking to Lise." She said as she kissed Roxanne’s cheek before turning toward Marvessa.

The aftermath of Tempest’s power still weighed heavily on her body; her steps were steady, but the strain lingered beneath the surface, a dull ache humming through her veins. She just wanted to lie down for a while, and Roxanne nodded at Marvessa to make sure she took care of Vivianne.

"Get me a communication orb," Vivianne said quietly. "Connect it directly to Liselotte."

Marvessa nodded immediately, already moving. "It’s ready, Your Highness."

Vivianne gave her a brief glance of gratitude before continuing toward the waiting carriage. The world felt slower, heavier, as if gravity itself had grown more demanding.

She climbed into the carriage with careful movements, allowing herself to sit back at last. The cushions cradled her, soft and cool, and for a moment she closed her eyes, breathing deeply. Not sleeping, just enough to keep her upright.

"I’ve prepared refreshments for you," Marvessa said gently as she followed her inside the carriage, setting a chilled vial of restorative essence beside a glass of lightly infused water, along with a small tray of bite-sized food.

Her movements are careful, the way one tends to someone who has pushed far past what their body should comfortably endure. "You overextended yourself."

Vivianne let out a quiet breath as she sank into the plush cushions, the softness finally reaching her bones. "I surprised myself too," she admitted, her voice faint but amused. "It seems they were... truly angry toward those orcs."

"The Spirit Kings?" Marvessa asked politely, remaining just inside the carriage, her posture attentive but unobtrusive.

"Yes." Vivianne nodded, closing her eyes for a moment before opening them again, pale lashes fluttering.

"I could feel their wrath. Tempest, especially—he didn’t just answer me. He roared." She picked up one of the small bites, bringing it to her lips with a slow, almost languid motion. "It was sudden. One moment I was listening, and the next..." She chewed thoughtfully, then gave a soft, incredulous chuckle. "The ship was gone."

Marvessa said nothing at first, only watched her empress with quiet reverence. To hear it spoken so lightly, "destroyed the whole ship," still felt unreal, even after witnessing it with her own eyes.

Vivianne leaned deeper into the cushions, the edge of exhaustion finally showing in the way her shoulders relaxed and her breathing slowed. "They’ve been holding that anger for a long time," she continued softly. "What the Calonians did... it wasn’t just violence against nature. It was an offense against balance. Against the spirits themselves."

She reached for the infused water, taking a small sip before setting it aside. "I didn’t direct Tempest to kill them all," she added, almost absently. "I only opened the path. He chose the rest."

Marvessa lowered her gaze, understanding, her tone turning reverent without meaning to. "Then it wasn’t just your power that answered," she said softly. "It was theirs as well."

Vivianne smiled faintly, the exhaustion in her body dulled by the comfortable plush pillows in the carriage and the lingering warmth of spirit mana around her. "I’m a bearer of the spirits, just like you, Marvessa," she replied, her voice calm, almost gentle. "The difference is simply this—I bear the kings."