Lord Theodore's Favorite Ritual
Chapter 181: Daring Lord Theodore.

Chapter 181: Daring Lord Theodore.

Night.

King Chambers, Ice Castle.

Critic Citadel, Critic-Ishire.

***************

Sir Noah, the cutest yet malicious knight in the kingdom, marched briskly down the stone corridors of the castle, his gleaming armour clinking with each quick stride.

His helmet, slightly too large, bobbed with every determined step he took, it gave him an endearing and almost comical appearance.

The morning light filtering through the narrow windows highlighted his earnest face, rosy cheeks flushed with excitement and purpose.

In his small hand, he clutched a scroll, the parchment crinkling as he tightened his grip.

As he approached the grand oak doors of the king’s chambers, Noah’s heart raced.

He had discovered something peculiar in the dungeons, a hidden passage that could have put the kingdom’s security in crucial jeopardy.

With a swift, confident motion, he knocked on the heavy door. The guards by the door bowed in greeting.

The sound echoed through the hallway, blending with the soft rustle from the maids and castle life.

The doors creaked open, and Noah stepped inside, his armour glinting in the warm glow of the chamber.

The king, seated on his majestic couch, looked up with curiosity.

Bowing deeply, Noah cleared his throat, his voice steady yet filled with anticipation. "Your Majesty, I bring important news from the dungeons." His heart swelled with hope, eager to see a proud smile grace the king’s face.

"Noah," Salvadore acknowledged.

Noah with his head down in respect, he announced. "Your majesty, Lord Theodore is in the dungeons"

"Noah, Let him see his wife." The king sighed, he appeared exhausted and slightly tipsy.

"It would be clumsy of me to assume he is there merely to say hi," Noah pointed out.

Salvadore turned to him with pressed lips and an elegantly raised brow.

"He is going to take his wife," Noah announced solemnly.

Salvadore paused and slowly turned to meet the cute knight’s eyes.

No.

He had to stop his brother however way he could and violence wasn’t the way.

Theodore must concur.

*

* *

*

Dungeons Back.

Somewhere in Critic-Ishire.

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As the moon cast its silvery glow over the cobblestone grounds of the Citadel in Critic Citadel, Lord Theodore cradled his wife, Lady Theodore, well, Lydia as one could call her in his arms. He carried her gracefully and firmly.

Her delicate form lay limp against his chest, her pallor stark against the darkness of the night despite what she had gone through.

With every step, his heart clenched with worry, his only concern was to get her to safety.

Red had transformed back to his decieving form, as he rushed after his masters.

Theodore’s strong strides carried them swiftly through the deserted pathways, the echo of their footfalls reverberating against the ancient dungeon stone walls.

His mind raced with concern for his beloved, her sudden loss of consciousness a mystery that gnawed at his very being, while Tom whispered Conan’s ears away.

As they neared the outskirts of the surrounding area, closer to Blanc, the Lord’s carriage awaited them, its dark silhouette looming against the moonlit sky like a sentinel in the night.

Relief flooded through Theodore at the sight, his only thought was to get his wife to his territory, his safety. Conan hopped on his horse, Ebony, while Tom waited for the lord to step inside the carriage, but just as they reached the carriage, a commotion erupted from behind in the shadows through the main castle.

The flicker of torchlight illuminated the figures of the King and his guards, their imposing presence blocking the path before them.

Theodore blinked and drew patience into his lungs as he realized they were not alone.

With a furrowed brow, Salvadore stepped forward, his gaze stern and unyielding as he surveyed the scene before him.

His guards flanked him, their swords drawn and ready, their expressions unreadable beneath the shadows of their helms. While councilmen and officials stood around him with curious glares.

"Lord Theodore," the King’s voice rang out, commanding and authoritative. "What is the meaning of this?"

Theodore’s jaw tightened as he turned and met Salvadore’s gaze, his arms tightening around his unconscious wife’s form. He noticed Salvadore taking a formal approach and he was trying to humiliate him which Theodore believed would only be humiliating to Salvatore but he would respect the title.

"Your Majesty, my wife has fallen ill," he replied, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him. "I seek only to get her to safety and seek aid for her condition." he let out.

But the King’s expression remained impassive, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. "And where do you intend to take her?" he demanded, his voice laced with a hint of menace.

Theodore hesitated for a moment, weighing his words carefully because the action he felt inclined to take was too drastic with his Gooseberry in his arms. "To our mansion, Your Majesty," he replied, his voice unwavering. "It is the safest place where she can receive proper care," he added.

Salvadore’s gaze bore into his brother, his silence hanging heavy in the air like a palpable threat. For a moment, it seemed as though he would agree, but Theodore knew him and his ever-punctured ego and his authority unyielding in the face of his plea.

He shook his head and stepped forward, the councilmen eager for drama like ladies at a tea. "No," he barked, his voice brimming with authority. "She has to be seen for questioning tomorrow and the dungeon physician will take care of her here"

Theodore scoffed. "Do you even know me, Salvadore?"

"Theodore you cannot leave just like that" Salvadore complained through gritted teeth.

"Stop me if you dare" Theodore bellowed.

Salvatore loves power and politics, and he hates this act from Theodore, but fighting him will only lead to a much larger humiliation and he must really need Theodore for something because Theodore saw the resignation in his brother’s eyes.

"Tell me when you find the crown" the lord said adjusting his lady further comfortably in his arms.

Salvadore stood rilling with contempt.

"You should have done something when I gave you the power" Theodore taunted.

With gritted teeth and a clenched jaw, Salvadore waved them off and with a curt shake of his head, he stepped aside, his guards parting to allow them passage. "Very well," he conceded, his voice brimming with authority.

"But see to it that she receives the care she needs, Lord Theodore. I will be watching." Salvadore gave his last remark still as by the book as possible.

Resisting an eye-roll, Theodore stepped past the King and his guards, his wife still cradled in his arms he reached the carriage where Conan and Blanc stood ready.

As they climbed into the waiting carriage Blanc started to ride and they disappeared into the night, a sense of relief washed over Theodore.

He carefully settled Lydia onto the plush cushions of their royal carriage, ensuring she was comfortable before taking his place beside her.

As the carriage began to move, the rhythmic clatter of hooves against cobblestones echoed through the night, carrying them away from the tense encounter with the King, Theodore felt confused, he refused to believe history wouldn’t attempt to repeat itself but he didn’t understand why nothing is happening still. It’s like the enemies are bidding their time and he couldn’t be too relaxed.

MOMENTS LATER.

Inside the carriage, the atmosphere was hushed, save for the gentle rustle of fabric and the occasional soft murmur of concern from Theodore as he tenderly brushed a lock of hair from Lydia’s forehead.

’I am sorry my love’ he murmurs.

Outside, the city streets passed by in a blur of shadows and moonlight, the towering buildings casting long, dark silhouettes against the night sky.

But within the confines of the carriage, time seemed to stand still, and the only focus being Gooseberry lying unconscious in his arms, her fragile form a stark reminder of their precarious situation.

As they journeyed on, the night air grew colder, seeping through the cracks in the carriage windows and chilling the occupants within. If Lydia was here she would ask how the knight and Tom were doing in this chilliness outside the carriage, Theodore mused. But she wasn’t up yet and no one cared about everybody enough to ask.

But he paid the weather no mind, his sole focus on his wife’s well-being, his thoughts consumed with worry and uncertainty. He knew it was exhaustion and shock but that didn’t help keep him satisfied with her absence and the same could be said about the white cat who kept hovering around her and mumbling.

Hours passed in silence, the only sound the steady clip-clop of the horses’ hooves as they carried the carriage ever closer to their destination.

As the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, casting a soft golden glow across the landscape, Theodore felt a glimmer of hope stir within him.

Lydia would wake up soon.

For though their journey had been fraught with danger and uncertainty, they would emerge unscathed, their love and determination guiding them through the darkness.

Two days left to be home.