JUDICATOR JANE 6 - CHAPTER 21 (Patreon)

The Kingdom of Princess Lily

Inside a throne room painted a sickening shade of pink, Mint stood awkwardly before a child no older than four, seated atop a makeshift throne fashioned from carved wood, draped in ribbons, and lined with wildflowers. The girl’s tiny legs didn’t even reach the edge, her posture haughty despite the slight smear of jam on her cheek. At her side loomed a tall, severe man in black—hands clasped behind his back, spine like a rod of iron.

“Oh, Your Majesty,” Mint began, bowing low with as much sincerity as he could fake. “Might you consider releasing my companion from your dungeons? I assure you, he’s had plenty of time to reflect on his conduct.”

The little girl squinted down at him, nose upturned. “Hmph! He still hasn’t learned his manners. If you meet a princess, you have to bow. Properly.”

Stupid Jeric, Mint thought. Why now, of all times, to be so stubborn?

His eyes drifted to Barnabus Crass, the pudgy man wringing his hands near the back of the room. Nominally the farm’s owner and Lily’s father, Barnabus was little more than a nervous observer in his daughter’s domain. Every decision—every hire, every rule—was enforced by Doctor Rothby Inglet, the man in black, and his wealth. And Rothby only took orders from Lily.

“D-dear,” Barnabus stammered, “m-maybe it’s time to, ah, let the boys go?”

“Oh, Papa,” Lily cooed innocently, “I will let him go. As soon as he shows some proper manners.” She turned to Rothby, eyes shining. “You agree with me, don’t you, Rothy?”

The Doctor bowed his head with solemn reverence. “But of course, Your Majesty. One such as you should never tolerate insolence.”

Lily beamed, then flung her arm upward in a dramatic flourish. “This audience is over!”

The crowd of workers filtered out through the short wooden double-doors, carefully constructed to look like miniature palace gates. Mint followed, jaw clenched. The entire farm was built atop Rothby’s money and Lily’s whims. And Jeric? Still locked in the repurposed storm shelter beneath the fields, guarded day and night. He was just as infuriating as the little girl, his pride refusing to let him bend the knee.

“Psst!”

Mint turned. Behind one of the silos, the tousle-haired form of Gull—Lily’s older brother and the only other child on the property—waved him over.

He jogged over and crouched beside him.

“I asked around like you wanted,” Gull said, eyes darting about nervously. “You can’t go to Grandia.”

Mint’s heart sank. “What? Why not? I told you, the demons aren’t an issue.”

“It’s not demons,” Gull whispered urgently. “It’s that dark cloud everyone’s been talking about. It’s spreading from Grandia—and it’s full of undead. I heard people who step inside get attacked immediately. It’s not safe.”

Mint frowned. Undead? The only ones he’d ever heard of were the creatures Jane had described from Lord Melkit’s castle. “But… no one’s talking about demons?”

Gull shook his head. “Not a word.”

Mint leaned back against the wooden wall, running a hand through his hair. Jeric was still locked up. Getting him out wouldn’t be easy—the “dungeon” was little more than an old shelter, but the men guarding it were well-armed and loyal. Rothby wasn't the kind to make mistakes.

I could leave Jeric behind, he thought bitterly. But even if I did, where would I go?

To the south lay the thickest part of the Trilling Forest—dense, dangerous, and completely uncertain. Even if the demons were on the other side, how could he reach them alone? Alternatively, backtracking through Dawnskeep would put him behind enemy lines. That was even worse.

He exhaled slowly. The situation was spiraling. No good options. No allies to trust. No direction left that didn’t feel like walking into a noose.

What am I going to do?

***

With the city of Glavenholm a day behind her, Eli’va drifted westward along the King’s Road, keeping her distance from the grim columns of human troops trudging toward the ever-darkening border of Lord Melkit’s Eternal Night, and the desperate tide of refugees fleeing the other way. Glavenholm had been a chaos of panic and whispers—no trace of her fellow Infiltrators, only frightened civilians, looted stalls, and the stink of fear clinging to the stones.

A faint tug on her mind drew her westward. The Soul Binding. She followed its pull in measured strides, content for now to use the immaculate King’s Road, though she knew it would soon bend southward, away from her path. When that happened, she would leave it and strike out into the rolling plains. The other demons had surely felt Jane’s return as well. Hopefully they were all moving in the same direction. The distance between them was vast, and while she trusted her strength, regrouping increased their odds.

Then she stopped mid-step. A shiver prickled her spine.

What is that?

The sensation—sharp, sudden, oddly nostalgic—was unmistakable. A Soul Binding. But not one woven into Jane’s vast web. This thread stood apart. Different. Eli’va’s eyes narrowed.

Could it be true? Had a demon been bound by someone other than Jane King?

She hadn’t felt anything like this since that brief, jarring moment in Lord Melkit’s castle—when she had sensed the connection between the dark lord and the demon Erzael.

Intrigued, she pressed on. What she sensed was already in the direction she was traveling. She quickened her pace. Jane had made her position on Soul Binding abundantly clear—she would not suffer others to be bound. If this was the work of one of the so-called Demonologists… well, they had overstepped.

Structures began to take shape on the horizon: a large agricultural complex, rows of crops rolling like waves beside it. The rogue Soul Binding’s pull grew stronger, vibrating in her mind. It came from within.

At the edge of the farm, Eli’va checked her appearance, confirming her human guise—Lady Vanesh of Grandia—was active and intact. Then she turned off the King’s Road and followed a dirt path toward the main cluster of buildings.

She didn’t get far before she was intercepted by three men with wary eyes and rusting pitchforks, their shoulders hunched with fatigue and suspicion.

“Who are you?” one of them barked, stepping forward. “Another stray from Glavenholm? We’ve got no food, no room. Move along.”

Eli’va didn’t flinch. She lifted her chin, voice cutting through the late afternoon air like a drawn blade. “I am no refugee. Take me to whoever runs this farm—and quickly.”

The men hesitated, glancing between her fine clothes, her commanding tone, and her imposing level, all of it screaming at them not to challenge. Finally, the one in charge exhaled and gestured for her to follow.

Despite the chaos to the east, the farm was both tidy and well-run, almost serene. She noted it with satisfaction. A good source of provisions, when the time comes to dominate the rest of Arcadia. She filed the detail away for later.

They led her toward the most unusual structure on the property: a castle-like building constructed entirely of wood. Odd choice. While the men stepped inside to announce her, Eli’va scanned the exterior for dangers or traps. The rogue binding—sharp and strange—throbbed just beyond the walls.

She took a step forward, determination hardening within her, ready to uncover the truth when—

“Eli’va! It’s you!”

The voice struck like lightning.

She turned, slowly, disbelief crackling through her as if time itself had fractured. A figure hurtled toward her and collided in a tight embrace.

Mint.

He wrapped his arms around her like a drowning soul clinging to the shore.

Eli’va stood frozen, too stunned to respond. Alive? Her mind reeled. He had fallen in battle. Or so Gral’gor had reported.

She raised her hand—slowly, uncertainly—and placed it on his back, half expecting her fingers to pass through nothing but smoke.

But he was warm. Solid. Real.

Still not trusting her own senses, she activated her General Identification skill.

Mint (Level 49)

Human

Slowly, Eli’va relaxed the trembling hand on his back. Somehow, impossibly, the boy was alive. The realization struck her with such force that she almost staggered, her composure unraveling beneath the surface. Yet, though every part of her felt fractured, she summoned her discipline and drew herself together, spine straightening, expression relaxing.

“Mint,” she began, her tone measured, “it is good that you survived the battle. Gral’gor and I were… deeply disheartened when we believed you to have fallen. Your loss struck a heavy blow to Jane’s forces.”

Mint’s head snapped up at the name. “Then—Gral’gor… is he okay?”

Eli’va studied him for a moment before gently setting him back on his feet. Her expression hardened, not unkindly, but with the gravity of one who had seen too much death to indulge hope easily. “I have not seen him for many days. But it would take more than a pitiful human to bring down a Voidwalker. As far as I know, he lives. But we’ve more pressing concerns. Jane has returned.”

The words hit the boy like a thunderclap. Mint’s mouth fell open, his entire face lighting with disbelief and joy. “Jane’s back?!”

“She has returned to Alur,” Eli’va said, already turning as if momentum alone would carry her toward their next objective. “But she is far from here, in a remote location. We must leave at once. She will undoubtedly require your healing abilities again.”

But before she could take more than a step, Mint called after her. “Wait—there’s… someone else. King Jeric is with me. He’s stuck in this little girl’s dungeon, and I can’t just leave him behind.”

That stopped her. Eli’va turned back, one sharp eyebrow arched, her curiosity piqued. “You’ve captured the enemy king?”

Mint hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Captured? Uh… not exactly. But yeah, I guess he’s with me now.”

She considered this with a measured nod, something like pride flickering in her eyes. “Very good. Jane will be pleased by your initiative. Where is the boy? I’ll fetch him myself, and then we go.”

Before Mint could answer, the wooden doors of the odd castle-like structure creaked open, their hinges groaning against the frame. A man clad in black stepped out, his movements wary but deliberate. He was followed by a child—a young human girl with wide, alert eyes.

Eli’va’s breath caught, and she froze mid-step. The Soul Binding. It was here. It pulsed from the man, stretched invisibly, yet unmistakably, to the girl at his side.

Her eyes narrowed, and she triggered her General Identification skill on the both of them. She had to know exactly who—and what—these two were.

Rothby Inglit (Level 47)

Human

Lily Crass (Level 3)

Human

“Who are you?” the young girl demanded with a regal frown—then, just as swiftly, her entire demeanor shifted into radiant delight. “Oh! A lady! Finally, a beautiful lady has come to visit me again!”

Eli’va froze, taking a careful step back as her gaze swept over the strange pair. The man in black—tall, composed, and confident—stood slightly behind the girl, his stance deferential. Subservient. The Soul Binding was real. The tether between them pulsed faintly in her senses. But how? The girl was barely level three. The man was level forty-eight. Jane had made it clear: humans shouldn’t be able to use Soul Bind at all. Was one of these humans an Infiltrator in disguise? Were both of them? As her mind raced, it was Mint who acted.

“Uh, hello, Your Majesty,” Mint said awkwardly, gesturing between them. “This is my friend—Lady Vanesh.”

The girl beamed and skipped forward, her eyes sparkling with unfiltered joy. “You’re so beautiful… I’ve only ever met one other person as pretty as you. My friend Jane. Do you know her too?”

Eli’va’s heart stuttered. “Jane King?” she asked, cautious.

“That’s right!” Lily chirped. “I do hope she comes back to visit me. Are you her friend too?” She spun toward the man in black with the flourish of someone used to being obeyed. “Rothy! This is Jane’s friend! You remember her, don’t you?”

The man—Rothby—inclined his head with a controlled nod. “I don’t imagine I shall ever forget.”

Eli’va’s eyes flicked rapidly between them, still struggling to piece together the bizarre hierarchy in front of her. Whatever had allowed this Soul Binding to form, it was beyond anything she had encountered. But if the girl knew Jane, there had to be some link, however obscure. “I am proud to serve Jane,” she replied, keeping her tone regal. “At this moment, I am on an urgent mission and must take both this boy and the young king currently held here.”

“Oh…” Lily’s smile faded, lips trembling. “So you’re not staying? I’ve waited so long for a lady to come see me.”

Mint blinked rapidly, clearly caught off guard by her emotion. He stepped forward with a panicked nod. “W-we’ll come back. Once we’ve finished helping Jane with… really important things.” He turned sharply to Eli’va, eyes pleading. “Won’t we?”

Eli’va considered it, then offered a faint shrug. “I suppose. It would be beneficial for Jane to witness the potential of the human farming operations here.” Then she turned briskly. “Lead me to the young king.”

Before she could move, Rothby stepped forward, barring her path with a silent authority. “The boy remains in the dungeons until Her Majesty grants his release.”

Eli’va clenched her fist—if this Rothby was an Infiltrator, she would have to act quickly and not give him time to harm Mint. She prepared to invoke her Silent Blade skill to incapacitate both the man and the girl in a single strike.

Lily, still sniffling, waved a delicate hand. “No, Rothy. If that nice lady says Jane needs him, then… he can go.”

Instantly the tension in the air deflated. “As you wish, Your Majesty.” Rothby gave a shallow bow and stepped aside. “Follow me.”

He turned on his heel and led them past the wooden castle to the fields beyond. Moments later, two iron doors embedded in the ground were hoisted open, and a scowling boy was escorted out—young, proud, and bristling with indignation.

“Who is this?” Jeric snapped, his voice rough with suspicion. “Mint, what’s going on? I told you—I’m not bowing to anyone!”

Eli’va moved before he could finish the next breath. She seized him by the wrist, her grip unyielding, and in an instant her human guise vanished in a shimmer of heat. Her true form emerged—tall and imposing, her skin shadow-dark, except for her pure white face, eyes pools of endless black.

“Oh,” she said, voice like smoke curling from a flame. “You will bow. When you meet Jane King, that will be the least of what you do.”