Chương 46: The Queen of Stone & the Rut of Blood — Part V

As Galan's mind returned to the present, the image of Lucilla contorted, replaced by the fiery, impatient face of his dwarven wife, Meredith. She wore the practical white uniform of an engineer, and his mindcast confirmed that she was leading a ship repair business on the island.

"Come on, spit it out," she said in Old Irish, her voice a familiar, welcome growl.

"Read my mind if you have to, Bloodsucker."

"I still remember you, Meredith. Who do you take me for?"

"Someone that's had more ale than water for dinner." What, can she read my mind now? Galan thought. He remembered their first meeting in the Rock Crevice Fortress. He had expected a stone-faced diplomat for his arranged marriage, but instead, he got a pickaxe-wielding princess who challenged him to a drinking contest and debated military strategy with him until dawn.

"So what are ye doing this far from home?" she continued.

"Shouldn't you be on the throne in Rome?"

"I could say the same about you," he grinned.

"How do the poor rocks feel without their pretty queen overseeing them?"

"Hah! You sure haven't lost your charm." Her smile faded slightly.

"But to be honest... I genuinely missed ya, y'know?"

"I missed you too," he said, his tone somber.

"Sorry I wasn't there for your father's funeral."

"It ain't all bad. Ye possessing our son to give the eulogy was more than enough to show that you cared." Oh, right. I forgot she's as blunt as me.

"So... how's everybody?"

"Mostly the same. Just with bigger bones and more drinking trophies." She shot him a seductive grin.

"We make a great pair, ye and I. Shame you still can't have enough with someone that can do everything ye could ever ask for.""'cept for reaching the high shelf," he whispered.

"What's that? You mumbling something about wanting to die in a volcano?"

"Nah, just regretting not being able to spend more time with you due to all the whining and misbehaving of my people."

"Hmph. I can relate." Her expression turned serious.

"But why are ye here, anyway? And answer honestly." They passed through the village gate, the festive atmosphere washing over them.

"I got bored and wanted to hunt ghosts in a new land," Galan sighed. She stopped, turning to face him.

"And what's the real, real answer?" His eyes dropped to the path, his broad frame sagging under the grief that led him here.

"Theara died. And I wanted to run away from it all."

"What?! Theara died?!" The crowd around them went silent, staring. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

"Sorry," Galan said to the onlookers.

"She just heard something surprising." He knelt, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"So her disease got her in the end," she whispered, her voice hollow.

"Yeah. I couldn't get over it. Sorry for not telling you sooner."

"And I would've only known from your book in a year if I hadn't met you here, eh?" Sharp as always, he thought.

"I suppose... yeah." His eyes flickered with regret when they found hers.

"But I decided to handle her funeral myself. I'm really sorry for not inviting any of you."

"I understand," she said, looking up.

"If ye were capable of returning to the soulstream, I wouldn't have wanted others to visit your funeral either."

"Sorry for making this heavy." He released his hand. She smiled warmly.

"Wow, three sorries in a row. If ye didn't try to dig through my patience earlier, I would've thought you were an impostor."

"Well, I'm trying to be a better man," he smiled back, scratching the back of his head.

"I thought that maybe this land could give me what I seek after all of this ghost hunt is over."

"That must mean ye need a ride for the hunt, right?"

"As a matter of fact, I do."

"Then let's pass the village. The Deliverer of Dreams is at the hangar." She said, reminding him of their flying ship.

"Lead the way." As they walked, he asked, "You still haven't told me why you're here."

"Didn't ye already read my mind when we met?"

"What? I, uh…" She chuckled.

"You're so predictable." Satanvubo, I forgot about this side of her.

"Could you just answer the question?"

"Alright, alright. I'm here to help the Council get their ships in working order. The pay is good."

"And just abandon the mines?"

"Ye say that as if the kids can't handle it on their own."

"Eeh… a bit too young for that, no?"

"You were how old when you made your village, again?" she asked, her voice carrying a judgmental tone.

"Ah, well, uhm… yes, you are correct," he bowed, but his mind was screaming in pain.

"Please forgive my misgivings, my fair lady."

"You are forgiven," she smirked.

"By the way, you caused a lot of trouble back at the theater."

"I assume you apologized for me."

"Yup, and you owe me for that," she said confidently.

"I had to offer free ship repairs to calm the angels down."

"Fine, I'll do whatever you want for that. Just nothing too crazy, alright?" She grinned.

"Don't worry. You know I'd never ask you to do anything like that." Galan rolled his eyes, remembering the time she tried to redirect a river of molten metal with a fireproof shield and pure stubbornness, all while he helped with its movement using his elemental powers. This all happened because she couldn't wait for the sluice gate controller to be repaired for the big metallurgy fair in Rock Crevice Fortress.

"For a dwarf's standard, sure," Galan retorted.

"Oh, quit whining." She slapped his knee.

"Burning down rival kingdoms with ye was far out of line for most people. Not to mention helping ye find more wives as you spent less time with me…" Galan felt it, a sharp needle of pain she had been holding inside. He stopped and knelt, opening his arms.

"Alright, come here." Mareduth's eyes widen at the offer.

"How much ale did you drink?!" she whispered, looking at the crowds.

"There are folks around!"

"Honestly, I could carry you through the whole village and they'd think I was just hauling a very angry rucksack."

"Now you're making it even more weird!" Meredith hissed.

"So... no?" Meredith hesitated, but she knew that the needs of her heart outweighed the pride of a mountain.

"You win," she sighed. Galan embraced her with the force a dwarf gives a favorite pickaxe, and she let out a contented sigh. He stood, lifting her into his arms.

"Hey, this is too far!" she panicked.

"You sure you want me to put you down?" he said, smirking.

"... No," she muttered, surrendering to his warmth.

"Just... put me down near the hangar. If anyone sees, you'll be testing the next stone crusher with your own body."

"Understood." He nodded.

"Now relax. You deserve this." She settled into his arms, a muffled but firm reply escaping her lips.

"Just know that this doesn't count. You still owe me, ye hear?"

"Hmph, I know," he smiled. He carried her down the mountain, the laughter of the passersby melting away. For a moment, she allowed herself to enjoy the rare, vulnerable union. But the warmth did not last. The weight in his arms became lighter, more fragile. The festive night faded, and Galan's mind returned to the moment when he used his mindcast to witness the work of the Bloody Twilight.