OWNED BY THE DEVIL のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 81 - チャプター 90

The ground shook beneath our feet as the second army descended the ridge.Dust swallowed the horizon. Their banners; black threaded with silver, snapped violently in the wind. They moved in formation, disciplined and precise.This had never been a reckless attack.This was calculated annihilation.Dominic’s hand remained firm around mine as he cut down another soldier blocking our path.“Fall back!” he roared to our men. “Inside the gates!”But retreat is never clean.Not when blood has already been spilled.Our soldiers fought to disengage, shields locking as they moved backward. Arrows rained down from the enemy’s second line. Screams tore through the air as men fell.I forced myself not to look at the bodies.We were almost to the gate when something shifted in the enemy formation.They parted.Not chaotically.Deliberately.A single rider emerged from between their ranks.He wore no helmet.His dark hair whipped in the wind, his armor polished silver rather than black.And when he

The battlefield smelled of iron and smoke long after the fighting stopped.Bodies were carried away. The wounded were tended to. The siege machines that had nearly shattered our gates lay broken under Valencrest’s counterattack.But victory did not feel triumphant.It felt heavy.Dominic refused to be taken inside until every injured soldier had been seen to first. Even leaning slightly against me, even pale beneath streaks of ash, he stood in the courtyard issuing calm, steady orders.“Stabilize the eastern wall.”“Double the night watch.”“No executions,” he added firmly when one captain asked about Lucien’s captured officers. “They are prisoners, not examples.”The words carried.And so did the message.Queen Isolde dismounted near us, removing her gloves with composed efficiency. Up close, she looked exactly as I remembered; sharp, observant, unflinching.“You took your time calling for help,” she said coolly to Dominic.“And you took your time answering,” he replied.A faint smil

The Northern Citadel stood on a cliff carved by winter winds and unforgiving sea.It had once been a monastery.Then a fortress.Now, it was Lucien’s prison.Four days after the trial, Dominic insisted on overseeing the transfer personally.“You don’t need to go,” I told him as his armor was fastened carefully around his healing side.“I do,” he replied. “If I send him away unseen, it becomes rumor.”“And if you go?”“It becomes fact.”I knew that tone.Measured.Unyielding.So I dressed in travel leathers instead of silk and rode beside him at dawn.The journey north was cold and silent.Not because there was nothing to say, but because too much had changed too quickly.Lucien rode between guards, shackled to the saddle.He had not spoken since the trial.Not to Dominic.Not to me.But I felt his awareness constantly, like a blade resting just out of sight.When the Citadel finally appeared on the horizon, its stone towers pierced through fog like jagged teeth.Even from a distance,

By morning, the storm had passed.The sea was calm again, deceptively so.Seven ships still rested on the horizon, their dark silhouettes sharp against pale blue sky.Three days.That was the window Cassian had given us.But by noon, Lord Maren forced our hand.A rider arrived from the Southern Marches, bearing Maren’s own seal. Not a private message.A declaration.Dominic read it once.Then handed it to me.To His Majesty King Dominic,It is with regret that I announce the Southern Marches will suspend tax contributions and military support until the Crown restores decisive leadership befitting Ardenthal’s legacy.We do not rebel.We correct.The audacity was almost elegant.“He’s choosing his words carefully,” I said.“He’s daring me to call it treason,” Dominic replied.Because technically,It wasn’t.He had not declared independence.He had not raised banners.He had simply… withdrawn support.A slow strangling.The council gathered within the hour.Voices rose immediately.“This

Silence did not arrive loudly.It settled.Like dust after collapse.Two weeks passed without incident.No southern unrest.No western fleet.No eastern sightings.Ardenthal prospered, visibly.Markets expanded under reduced tariffs. Grain flowed steadily. Patrols with the Western Coalition began without friction. Reports were clean. Predictable.Too clean.Dominic stood over a stack of dispatches one evening, brows drawn faintly together.“You don’t like quiet,” I observed.“I distrust patterns that smooth,” he replied.I crossed the chamber and scanned the top parchment.Border reports. Trade tallies. Naval coordination logs.No anomalies.Which was the anomaly.“They’re waiting,” I said softly.“Yes.”“For what?”He didn’t answer immediately.“For confirmation.”“Of what?”“That our strength is permanent.”The words lingered.Because strength tested once is coincidence.Strength tested repeatedly is structure.And structure attracts challengers.A knock interrupted us.Captain Rhae