Where Ashes and Oaths Collide

Chapter 21: Midnight Blue

Luz froze mid-turn, his crimson eyes locking onto her form in the midnight blue fabric. The fabric clung to her curves in a way that sent a jolt of heat through him, awakening parts of himself he had though dead long ago. His breath caught in his throat. “I– of course,” he managed, his voice dropping an octave. He strode forward with deliberate steps, the metallic sound of his armour sharp in the quiet tent. “Turn around.” His gauntleted hands moved with practiced efficiency as they sought the strap of the leather waist cincher, pulling the strap through a buckle and tightening it with a firm, practiced motion. Amelia turned around and adjusted the skirt, lifting and letting the layers fall so the slits sits where she wanted.

“Thank you,” she said calmly as the slid on for the leather brown bracers onto her forearm, tightening the straps one by one, each pull snuggling the leather into place. “So, how does it look?” she asked as she repeated the process on the other arm, until both bracers are secure. Luz’s crimson eyes swept over her form, taking in the way the fabric hugged her figure, his gaze lingering on the curve of her breasts visible through the low-cut neckline. His jaw tightened, a flicker of amber appearing in his left eye before he ruthlessly suppressed it. “It looks like you belong in a royal court, not on a battlefield,” he answered gruffly, his voice strained. “Lady Escuridade has excellent taste.”

Amelia smiled softly and picked up the midnight blue cloak, lifting it behind her and settling it over her shoulders. The fabric cascaded down her back and she reached up to adjust the collar, ensuring it frames her properly. Luz took a half-step back, creating distance that felt both necessary and agonizing. His gauntleted hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Now put on the boots,” he ordered sharply, forcing himself back into commander moder. “We need to be ready to move when the time comes.” Amelia nodded and walked over to a pair of brown leather knee high boots at the foot of the cot. “What is Cidade dos escravos like? She asked curiously as she leaned against the cot and gathered the top of the boot with both hands, sliding her foot inside.

There is a brief pause as she adjusted her foot before pulling the second boot up her other leg. Luz’s expression shifted instantly, the mention of Cidade dos escravos striking a chord of bitter memory. “The riches city on this coast,” he replied flatly, his crimson eyes hardening with purpose. “Its walls are built to withstand assault from pirates.” His gauntleted hands gripped the hilt of his sword tightly. “The nobles hoard wealth in vaults while their guards patrol the streets barely knowing how to hold a spear. He paused significantly before adding, “And when panic spreads through those narrow alleys tonight… many will choose gold over loyalty.”

“So, do you think the siege will go well?” Amelia asked as she approached Luz wearing the brown knee-high leather boots. His crimson gaze swept over her form; the brown leather complementing the midnight robes and make her look like she belonged in a commander’s tent. his expression remained grim as he considered her question. “No,” he answered bluntly, crossing his arms over his armoured chest. “Sieges rarely go ‘well’. they become a slaughterhouse where strategy falls apart under panic and despair. Out advantage lies in terror– Corrompido screaming through the streets while the wealthy barricade themselves behind locked doors.” He moved closer, his voice lowering to a more confidential tone. “The real challenge begins after victory when we sort through the survivors for useful information or potential hostages.”

“I see,” Amelia said deep in thought. “I heard that Cidade dos escravos was a city of slaves… what will happened to the slaves?” Luz’s jaw tightened at the mention of slavery– a practice he had always despised, even before handing himself over to darkness. The black veins on his neck pulsed violently, mirroring the disgust roiling beneath his controlled exterior. “They will either be incorporated into our ranks as labourers or sold off,” he answered grimly, his crimson eyes flashing with something darker than mere military strategy. “Those who resist will be executed publicly as examples.” He turned away abruptly, pacing toward the tent flap with restless energy.

“Mestre Escuro cares only for profit and control– human lives mean nothing except as assets to be exploited.” His gauntleted hands clenched into fists at his sides, the metallic sound echoing in the confined space. “In another life, I might have tried to free them. But now…” Amelia went to stand beside him. “Hey,” she said softly and wrapped her arms around his arm. “Do not blame yourself.” Luz’s entire frame tense at her touch, the armoured plating suddenly feeling too thin against her comforting presence. His crimson eyes darted to where her hand rested on his forearm. “How can I not blame myself?” he countered roughly, his voice cracking with emotion he had held back for years.

“Every slave I pass today will be evidence of my failure to protect this country.” His free hand moved instinctively toward the hidden white ribbon beneath his gauntlet, a nervous tic revealing how deeply her words affected him. The amber in his left eye flickered desperately as if trying to break free from its crimson prison. “You do not understand what I have become,” he continued urgently, turning to face her fully. “I am no longer the knight who would have freed those slaves.” Amelia sighed in irritation. “The Santo knights are not freeing them either,” she said stubbornly. “They gather there but do nothing about the slavery…” the stubbornness in her voice struck something deep within him, chipping away at the carefully constructed wall of guilt and duty he had built around his heart.

Luz’s crimson eyes searched hers intently, seeking validation for the anger that had simmered beneath his armour for months. “You are right,” he admitted quietly, the words tasting like ash. “They gather their strength while Cidade dos escravos suffers. The Santos order has become just another faction calculating gains and losses.” His armoured hand covered hers where it rested on his arm. “While I stood by and watched villages burn, they debated politics in their gilded halls. While I sacrificed my soul to save lives, they condemned me as a traitor.”