Serpent Emperor's Bride-Chapter 113: When the Letter Did Not Come

[Veyrhold House — Levin’s Chamber — The Next Day]

Morning light filtered softly through the tall northern windows, pale and cold as it spread across the stone floor of Levin’s chamber. Outside, the wind moved through the snow-covered courtyard, carrying the distant sound of the guards changing their watch, steady and familiar.

Inside, the air smelled faintly of herbs and warm resin.

Levin sat on the edge of the bed, his posture straight, one hand resting lightly over his stomach while the other lay relaxed at his side. His expression was calm, but his eyes remained focused on the small table where Physician Naram had arranged his instruments.

Iru stood a few steps away, his hands folded tightly in front of him, unable to hide the worry on his face. Physician Naram knelt before Levin, carefully preparing the small silver needle.

"It will sting for a moment, Malika," he said quietly, his tone respectful but steady. "Please remain still."

Levin nodded once.

Naram took Levin’s hand gently, turning his wrist upward. The needle pierced the skin with a quick, precise motion, and a small drop of blood formed at the tip of his finger.

He let the drop fall into a shallow bronze bowl placed on the table. The dark red spread slowly across the thin layer of liquid already inside.

Iru swallowed nervously, watching every movement as if even breathing too loudly might disturb the result.

Naram began the same ritual he had performed in the tent weeks ago.

He placed two fingers over the bowl and murmured the low ancient words under his breath. The air inside the chamber grew faintly colder, and the surface of the liquid trembled slightly as a dim reddish glow appeared within it.

Levin did not move; his gaze remained fixed on the bowl.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

Then Naram’s brows slowly relaxed and the glow steadied. He exhaled — a long breath he had been holding since the test began.

"...It is stable."

Naram lifted his hand from the bowl and turned toward Levin, relief finally visible on his face. "Everything is safe, Malika."

Iru let out the breath he had been holding at once, his shoulders dropping in relief. Levin’s fingers tightened slightly over the edge of the bed.

"...Both of them?"

His voice was quiet, but the question carried more weight than anything else in the room.

Naram bowed his head.

"Yes, Malika." He allowed himself the smallest smile. "The antidote has worked. The poison has been weakened enough... and the egg has stabilized."

For the first time since the test began, Levin’s expression softened. His hand moved slowly to his stomach, his fingers resting there with care, as if afraid even his touch might disturb what he protected.

’Thank the heavens...’ His eyes lowered slightly. ’Now... nothing will harm them. I will not allow it.’

Naram stood and wiped the needle carefully before placing it aside.

"You may breathe easier now, Malika," he continued, his voice calm again. "But do not forget... this is still a fragile time."

Levin looked up at him.

Naram spoke more firmly.

"You must eat well. You must rest, and above all... you must avoid stress." He hesitated slightly before adding, "The egg is stable now, but strong emotions... fear, anger, worry... they can still disturb the balance."

Levin nodded slowly. "I understand and...thank you."

Naram blinked faintly. Levin lowered his gaze again, his hand still resting over his stomach.

"Thank you... for saving them."

For a moment the physician did not answer, and then he bowed deeply. "It is my duty, Malika. The heir of Zahryssar must be protected... even before he is born."

Levin gave a faint nod. Naram bowed once more and gathered his tools, then left the chamber quietly, the door closing softly behind him.

Silence returned.

Iru let out another breath and placed his hand over his chest as if his own heart had finally calmed.

"I am truly relieved, Malika," he said softly. "I thought... the poison might have left some harm."

Levin leaned back slightly, still touching his stomach.

"So did I."

A faint pause passed. Then his expression changed slightly, the calm fading into thought.

"...Iru."

"Yes, Malika?"

Levin lifted his eyes, "...Did we receive any letter from Malik?"

The question came suddenly. Iru stiffened, for a moment, he did not answer. His gaze dropped at once, his fingers tightening slightly in the folds of his sleeve.

"...No, Malika."

Levin frowned faintly.

"No?"

Iru shook his head slowly, "Except for the letter sent by Lady Arinaya... no other message has arrived from Zahryssar."

Levin’s brows drew together. His eyes moved toward the window, his thoughts turning quickly.

’That is strange. He never misses a week...Not since I came to Thalryn...’ His fingers pressed lightly over his stomach without him noticing.

’Did something happen...? In Zahryssar...?’

His voice lowered.

"...Bring me the letter from Lady Arinaya."

Iru bowed at once.

"Yes, Malika."

He turned without another word and left the chamber, his steps swift yet soundless against the cold stone floor.

Levin did not move.

He remained standing near the window, his hand resting lightly against the carved frame as pale winter light spilled across the chamber. Beyond the walls, the wind howled low and restless, as if the mountains themselves whispered warnings no man wished to hear.

The door opened again. Iru returned, placing the folded parchment carefully upon the small table beside Levin.

"The letter from Lady Arinaya, Malika."

Levin took it without haste. His eyes moved across the lines once... then again.

A faint breath left him.

"...So it is as I thought," he murmured. "All of this... about the reports."

He lowered the parchment slowly, his gaze drifting toward the window once more. For a long moment he said nothing.

Then, almost to himself—

"...A week." His fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the letter. "Zer has not sent word for a week..."

The wind struck the wall with a hollow sound.

Levin’s eyes narrowed faintly, "...Why does my heart find no rest in this silence...?"

Iru looked up at once, sensing the shift in his lord’s voice.

"Malika?"

Levin turned from the window, "Iru... bring parchment and ink."

"At once."

Iru moved quickly, setting the writing tools upon the small desk near the wall. Levin sat down, the chair creaking softly under his weight. He took the brush, paused for a breath, then began to write.

The scratching of ink on parchment was the only sound in the chamber.

Slow. Careful. Measured.

When he finished, Levin let the ink dry, then folded the parchment with deliberate precision. He held it for a moment... as if weighing more than words.

Then he handed it to Iru, "Send this to Lady Arinaya."

Iru bowed deeply.

"Right away, Malika."

He turned to leave, but as the door opened, Levin’s voice followed him—quiet, almost lost in the wind.

"...May the heavens keep him under their sight..." A pause. "I hope... he is unharmed."

Iru did not reply; he only bowed once more... and left.

***

[Later — Hallway of Veyrhold House]

The long corridor lay silent beneath the pale glow of winter light pouring through the high arches. Levin walked slowly along the stone floor, his cloak brushing softly behind him.

Captain Varesh and Raevahn followed at a respectful distance, their steps steady, their eyes watchful.

Iru walked slightly to the side, carrying a bundle of sealed scrolls. As they passed the open archway leading to the outer courtyard, Levin stopped.

His gaze shifted outward.

Snow covered the ground in a thin silver sheet, sparkling under the cold sun.

In the middle of the courtyard, Asha and Lyresaph were laughing, their paws sinking into the snow as they chased one another in careless circles. A few maids stood nearby, smiling as they tried — and failed — to keep the two from throwing snow at them.

For the first time that morning, Levin’s expression softened. A faint smile touched his lips.

Iru chuckled quietly.

"It seems the young ones have declared war upon the winter itself."

Raevahn crossed his arms, watching them with a calm face, "They fear neither cold nor rank... a dangerous kind of courage."

Varesh gave a low breath of amusement. Levin watched a moment longer; he turned away from the window.

His expression returned to its usual calm as he began walking again toward the Duke’s office. They had barely reached the middle of the corridor when hurried footsteps echoed from the far end.

Butler Macrane appeared, moving faster than his age usually allowed, his robe slightly disordered, his breath uneven. He was heading straight toward Levin’s chamber — but when he saw Levin himself standing in the hallway, he stopped at once and bowed deeply.

"My lord...!"

Levin frowned slightly.

"You were seeking me, Macrane."

"Yes, my lord... I was."

The butler lifted his head, his face tense in a way that made Varesh’s hand instinctively move closer to the hilt of his sword.

"We have received a letter... from the Imperial Palace."

Silence fell at once.

Levin’s eyes sharpened.

"...From the Palace?"

Macrane swallowed.

"Yes, my lord. The message bears the Imperial mark... and the red seal of urgency."

Varesh and Raevahn exchanged a glance.

Levin furrowed, asking, "What does it command?"

Macrane lowered his head again, "My lord... you are summoned to the palace at once... with the Duke."

The wind outside struck the arches with a long, hollow sound. Levin’s eyes darkened slightly, and today the hallway felt colder than before.

Levin turned without another word and began walking toward the inner corridor.

Varesh and Raevahn followed at once, their steps instinctively falling into guard formation behind him, while Iru hurried after them, clutching the letter nervously.

The hallway felt colder than before.

Even the lantern flames seemed smaller, by the time Levin reached the door of Duke Aren’s office, the door was already open. The duke stood inside, fastening the clasp of his cloak, as if he had been preparing to leave the moment the message arrived.

He looked up the instant Levin entered, for a brief moment, father and son simply stared at each other.

Levin spoke first.

"...Father."

Aren stopped adjusting the cloak.

His eyes moved over Levin’s face, then past him—to Varesh... to Raevahn... to Iru... as if measuring how much should be said in front of them.

Then his gaze returned to his son.

"...We were about to leave."

Levin stepped closer.

"Did something happen?"

Aren did not answer immediately, his expression grew heavier, the kind of look he wore only when the matter concerned more than family... more than house... more than Thalryn itself.

He walked past Levin toward the door, then stopped beside him.

His voice lowered.

"...News arrived from the borders."

Levin’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"What news?"

Aren hesitated, only for a moment. Then he spoke.

"...Zahryssar has made its decision."

The words felt like stone dropping into water. Varesh’s shoulders stiffened. Raevahn’s hand tightened slightly at his side.

Levin did not move.

"...Decision...?"

Aren looked directly at him now.

"The Serpent Empire has declared its support." A pause. "For the Western Empire... in the matter of the vault."

Silence.

Total and heavy. The wind outside struck the windows again, louder this time. Iru’s eyes widened in disbelief.

Varesh stared at the floor as if he had heard wrong. Raevahn’s jaw tightened, his expression hardening, but he said nothing.

’Malik... chose the western side...?’

For a moment, even the guards forgot to breathe.

Levin stood completely still, no anger, no words, only stillness. His eyes remained on his father, as if waiting for him to say it was a mistake... a rumor... a lie.

"...Zahryssar... supports the western empire...?"

Aren nodded once.

"Yes."

Another long silence followed.

Varesh lowered his voice under his breath, almost to himself.

"...Impossible..."

Raevahn did not answer, but his eyes had already moved to Levin, waiting and watching.

Levin did not react at first, his fingers slowly curled into his palm. His throat moved as he swallowed once.

Hard and for a moment, it looked as if he might speak, but nothing came. Inside his chest, something tightened.

His voice finally came, quiet, controlled... almost too controlled, "...We should not keep the emperor waiting."

Aren watched him carefully.

"...Levin."

Levin shook his head faintly.

"Let us go."

He turned toward the door before anyone could say anything else, his steps were steady. Perfectly steady.

But the air around him felt colder than the winter outside. Varesh and Raevahn followed in silence. Iru hesitated for a moment before hurrying after them, his eyes full of worry.

Behind them, Duke Aren took a slow breath, then pulled his cloak tighter and walked out as well.

Outside, the wind howled across the courtyard as the carriage was prepared.

And as Levin stepped down the stairs of Veyrhold House, his gaze lowered slightly, his thoughts heavy, tangled, and silent.

The carriage door opened, and without another word, Levin stepped inside. The wind slammed against the gates of Veyrhold.

And far away, in the desert of Zahryssar, the choice of the Serpent Emperor had already begun to tear the world apart.