Bastian
Chapter 26 - The Hound of Devil

✧The Hound of Devil✧

*.·:·.✧.·:·.*

Bastian sat with unwavering poise, ready for his next words. His cheek still burned from the empress’s blow, yet he wore an aura of serenity, a remarkable display for someone who had been summoned and berated like a felon.

 The emperor gazed upon Bastian with a furrowed brow, struggling to piece together the enigma before him. No evidence of treachery was found. The speculation that Princess Isabelle’s escape would lead her to Bastian Klauswitz’s abode was accurate, but beyond that, nothing else matched the assumptions.

Before the summer palace fell into disorder, Bastian sprang into action and made his way through the busy metropolis. He enjoyed a lavish meal with the influential Ratz bankers before attending a small group of people at a prestigious social club. The fact that his guests had no link to the missing Isabelle was obvious given that they were surrounded by powerful senators, bankers, and navy generals.

As the afternoon sun beat down, Bastian made his way to his doctor for a medical examination, eager to assess the injuries he sustained during the fierce battle of Trosa. With newfound energy, he then sought out the beautiful Odette, eager to continue his exciting day.

Bastian journeyed to the pinnacle of fashion and indulged the young girl in a spree of luxurious gifts. It was an awe-inspiring spectacle to behold, but what truly took everyone by surprise was the sudden appearance of Duke Laviere at Reinfeld Hotel.

Despite having a reputation for being a cunning opportunist who courted both the daughter of a Felia noble and the niece of the Emperor of Berg, it appeared that his relationship with Isabelle was totally accidental. The implications of this information caused the emperor to have a shudder down his spine.

As Bastian Klauswitz lived out a weekend of self-serving pursuits, his daughter played her own game of thievery. Under the cover of night, she slipped sleeping pills into her nanny’s drink and, disguised as a maid, made a daring escape on horse-drawn cart. The Emperor’s heart was heavy as he watched the tale unfold, ending in the Princess’s public disgrace and embarrassment.

Despite the Emperor’s knowledge of Bastian’s efforts, he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of disappointment. By keeping the Princess away, Bastian had effectively squashed any rumors and ended Isabelle’s foolish infatuation, but the damage had already been done. The Emperor couldn’t erase the shame brought upon their family, no matter how hard he tried to silence the whispers.

As the emperor pondered the situation, he realized that it would have been much simpler if Isabelle’s actions could have been portrayed as a tragic outcome of her unrequited love from her youth. Such a scandal, though damaging to the empire’s reputation, could have potentially been salvaged with time.

However, the reality of the situation was far more complicated. It was not just a problem limited to the foolish and impulsive actions of Princess Isabelle. The ambitions of the man who had captured even the heart of the Princess were now unknown, and the depth of their reach was a mystery that troubled the emperor’s thoughts.

The idea that he could not even imagine the full extent of this individual’s ambitions only heightened the ache in the emperor’s heart.

“Ah, Captain Bastian Klauswitz, let us delve into the mysteries of your tangled love life. The First Princess of Berg, Isabelle. The Daughter of Duke Laviere, Sandrine. And the elusive Odette von Dyssen. Are there any other ladies I should be aware of, or is your heart occupied solely by these three enchantresses?” The Emperor’s tone was piercing as he aimed to uncover the truth. “Who, exactly, are you, Bastian Klauswitz?”

“Your wish is my command, Your Majesty,” Bastian replied with unwavering conviction. The honeyed tone of his voice and the unwavering gaze in his eyes added an air of sincerity to his smooth words, making them all the more convincing.

“Will you carry out any command I give, soldier?” The emperor asked with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, as he flicked open the cigarette box.

“Affirmative, Your Majesty,” Bastian replied without a flinch, his unwavering tone befitting of a true hero.

The emperor chuckled dryly, his laughter a cutting contrast to Bastian’s steadfast demeanor. “How fitting. You truly embody the title of a heroic warrior.”

The Trosa Islands were jolted by the sounds of battle as the North Sea descended into anarchy. Berg was caught in the middle of a struggle for power and riches that was started by the ambitious country of Lovita.

The ships sent to inspect the surrounding waters were suddenly set ablaze, leaving the crew with no time to react. The captain, who rushed to the scene, was felled by falling debris, leaving the ship without a leader. In the midst of this chaos, a hero rose to take command. 

Bastian Klauswitz stepped up, a man of action, ready to lead the crew to victory against impossible odds. The emperor, watching in awe, recognized his bravery as he took control of the ship, guiding it through the storm of battle, cementing his place as a hero of the North Sea.

With lightning-fast reflexes, Bastian Klauswitz took command of the situation, navigating his damaged ship through the raging waves of the North Sea. Despite the odds stacked against him, he refused to surrender, instead using his ingenuity to outmaneuver the enemy fleet. As Lovita’s mighty admiral charged forward, unrelenting in his pursuit of victory, Bastian saw an opportunity.

With a flick of his wrist, he deftly changed the course of his battleship, executing a daring frontal breakthrough that left the enemy fleet reeling. The panicked enemy ships were thrown into disarray as Bastian led the charge, his unwavering determination and quick thinking turning the tide of the battle. It was a moment of pure heroism, as this daring naval officer took the fight to the enemy and secured a victory for his beloved country of Berg.

Bastian Klauswitz maneuvered his battleship through the conflict with expert accuracy, dealing an immediate and severe damage to Admiral Lovita’s command ship. As Klauswitz’s audacious gambit penetrated the enemy ship’s bow, the unrelenting bombardment ended. His methodical approach, which avoided impulsive attacks that would endanger ally ships, turned out to be a brilliant one.

With swords drawn and hearts pounding, the Berg army fought with ferocity and finesse. Amidst the chaos, the supporting fleet made their grand entrance, raining down a barrage of firepower that left the enemy forces reeling. With their line completely disrupted, the cunning and confident Captain Klauswitz made his move, apprehending the aging Admiral Lovita and accepting his white flag surrender in a triumphant victory.

The news of the Trosa Battle left the emperor in a state of stunned disbelief. While it was a victory that brought pride to the Empire, it was also a confusing and overwhelming realization. The idea of war waged on the tumultuous waves of the sea was both awe-inspiring and bewildering.

The emperor stood in awe, as if he was witnessing a page ripped straight out of the history books come to life before his very eyes. He beheld the spectacle of a naval battle unlike any he had ever imagined, with weapons that had long been relegated to the annals of military science and lore.

Grenades, swords, rifles, and pistols all clashed in a melee of steel and fire. The enemy screamed in outrage, as if Berg had unleashed the very demons of the North Sea onto their ships. It was a surreal sight, with the chaos and violence of hand-to-hand combat throwing the North Sea into a frenzy.

And yet, despite the horror and shock of it all, the emperor couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement and wonder. This was a moment that would be forever etched into the annals of history, as the devil’s hounds of Berg roamed the North Sea, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake.

The thought echoed in the Emperor’s mind, like a haunting melody. If the one behind the glorious victory at the Battle of Trosa had been on the other side, 

What kind of terror could he have unleashed? 

The might of Bastian Klauswitz was unmatched, his strategies unparalleled, and his cunning incomparable. 

Yet, what if those same qualities led him down a path of destruction?

For now, however, the Berg army’s hold over the North Sea had only grown stronger, and the defeat at Trosa had dealt a critical blow to Lovita’s navy. There was no denying that Captain Klauswitz was deserving of the title of hero, his deeds already etched in history books. Yet, the Emperor couldn’t help but wonder, what if the future held something far more sinister for this formidable warrior?

As the emperor gazed out the window, his mind weighed heavily on the formidable presence of Bastian Klauswitz, like a fierce dog that could turn and bite at any moment. The more he learned of Bastian’s unyielding spirit, the deeper his apprehension grew.

Bastian was a force to be reckoned with, unyielding in his refusal to bow to authority, but also cunning enough to manipulate it to his advantage. The emperor couldn’t help but wonder what kind of leash would be strong enough to tame such a beast.

With a worried sigh, the emperor rose from his seat and approached the window, peering out at the lush gardens and the tranquil Prater River beyond. Though he could sense Bastian’s silent presence behind him, he refused to turn and face him.

“The stain on the honor of my daughter and the imperial family is not a mere trifle, but a weighty matter that carries the weight of the entire empire,” the emperor spoke with a regal bearing, his voice echoing in the grand hall. The warmth of a loving father was now replaced by the solemnity of a ruler, and Bastian felt the weight of his words as he lowered his head in understanding. 

The emperor’s gaze was firm, a reflection of the unyielding spirit that governed the vast reaches of the empire.

The union of Princess Isabelle of Berg and Crown Prince Leo of Belov was a necessity. Bastian, a seasoned warrior who had faced the tumultuous tides of international politics, understood this better than anyone else. In order to counteract the ever-growing naval might of Lovita, a partnership with Belov was crucial. The sacred bond of matrimony between the princess and the prince was the cornerstone of this alliance, built to withstand the storms of time.

“Your Majesty, I share in your hope for a successful military alliance with Belov,” Bastian spoke firmly. The emperor pivoted on his heels, hands clasped behind his back, his piercing gaze fixed upon Bastian. Sᴇaʀᴄh the N0vᴇlFirᴇ.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.

 “Let me make this clear,” he said, his tone brooking no argument. “Should Isabelle’s feelings for you interfere with this crucial alliance, should they pose a threat to the security of the empire, I will not hesitate to hold you accountable. It matters not whether it is your fault or whether you bear any guilt. Simply put, your presence has already caused irreparable damage to the imperial family.”

“I have made plans to return to the frontlines, Your Majesty,” announced Bastian with determination. “While approval from superiors is expected to come later this fall, a simple command from Your Majesty to the Admiralty would see me setting sail tomorrow.”

The emperor’s piercing gaze hardened as he questioned, “Do you truly believe this situation can be remedied so easily?”

*.·:·.✧.·:·.*

As the carriage approached the city limits, the number of passengers dwindled. Odette stood, clinging to a pillar by the door, as the lights of the sprawling metropolis flickered over her blank expression. 

The seats around her were largely unoccupied, yet one person was notably absent – Bastian Klauswitz. The captain was still with his beloved, far from the lonely carriage and the night-shrouded city.

However, Odette, unable to depart, implored for a mere answer to the mystery of whether her father had ever graced the halls of the mansion. The kind-hearted old butler, taking pity on her, granted her request. Her father was nowhere to be seen today. Although the news provided her with a sliver of relief, it was quickly shattered when she learned that her father had once encountered Bastian Klauswitz without prior notice. Her heart plummeted at the unexpected revelation.

Odette was happy that she had avoided encountering the man. She wouldn’t have been able to handle it if she had actually met Bastian.

She left a message in hopes that he would respond shortly. No, it was okay if she went unnoticed indefinitely. That was something she had kind of hoped for.

As the carriage approached the final stop, Odette gathered all her courage and stepped out. She nervously smoothed out her dress, which she had fidgeted with several times during the ride, and brushed her hair back, trying to rid herself of any signs of distress. 

The effort was in vain, as the creases in her heart could not be erased so easily. But she knew that if she at least put on a brave face, she might be able to carry the burden of this life with a little more grace.

With the pieces slowly falling into place, Odette realized the reason for the man’s sudden mention of her father. She had long since been acquainted with her father’s tempestuous ways, but the man’s faith in a future promise left her grappling with confusion.

 Why had he placed so much trust in an uncertain future?

The enigma that eluded a solution only served to plunge Odette deeper into despair. Regrettably, she realized she should have been forthright from the start.

Odette was done with the charade, done with the thought of ever laying eyes on him again.

“Not this again! I can’t take it anymore!” 

With a heavy heart, Odette trudged down the moonlit avenue and entered the townhouse, only to be greeted by a loud, annoyed voice. It was none other than the spouse of the building superintendent.

“For heaven’s sake, go up to your unit and do something about the racket!” The building manager’s wife let out a groan, her frustration palpable.

“What’s going on?” Odette replied, taken aback.

“Oh no, they fight again!” Mrs. Palmer exclaimed, her eyes growing wide with frustration. However, Odette could no longer listen to her litany of complaints. She had to take swift action and put an end to the scuffle between her father and Tira. It was time to tidy up the chaos.

With determined steps, Odette raced up the staircase, ready to intervene and restore peace to the household.

She was all too familiar with this scene, one that had played out time and time again, yet her feet refused to budge. A fierce yearning to flee took hold of her, to spin on her heels and escape into the welcoming embrace of the night streets. To leave behind the familiar turmoil, to forget her father and Tira, and to cast off the chains of her societal standing that weighed her down. To wander far, far away, free at last.

“I apologize, ma’am. I humbly request your patience,” Odette said, with her head hung low, taking the place of her father and Tira in offering contrition.

Mrs. Palmer, who had unleashed a barrage of complaints upon her, stalked away with discontent written all over her face, her steps echoing her dissatisfaction. With a heavy sigh, Odette quickly scampered up the staircase.

“No way, Let go!” 

Tira shrieked, just as Odette arrived at the top floor landing. The force of Tira’s scream was so intense that it took Odette’s breath away. In the next moment, her father burst through the front door, with Tira clinging to him for dear life. 

“Let go!” Tira implored.

“My money! Give it back to me! It belongs to me!” Duke Dyssen demanded with a roar.

The argument between Duke and Tira over the box filled with their emergency funds escalated into a full-blown fight.

“Father!” Tira cried out, using all her might to push him away as he lifted his hand to strike.

With a harrowing howl, Duke Dyssen stumbled and tumbled down the steps, his fall a blur of motion. In the next moment, he lay motionless, his form twisted and contorted. 

Rushing to her father’s side, Odette crumpled to the ground, unable to utter a sound. The dark red blood, pulsing and alive, spread across the wooden floorboards and stained the hem of her skirt. Tira , trembling out of fear, let out a fierce, guttural cry, shaking the very foundations of the aging building.

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