Claimed by the vampire prince

Chapter 553: Chapter 553

The remaining days of the campaign were methodical.

Without Gerard and Remin, the militia’s structure collapsed quickly. Both men had been the pillars holding the rebellion together after its funding had dried up, and once they were gone, it became painfully clear that no one remaining possessed either the authority or the competence to replace them. What resistance remained fragmented almost immediately.

There were two more skirmishes in the eastern territory, both significantly smaller than the battle in the ravine. Casilo handled each of them, effectively crushing the remaining pockets of resistance.

Ragnar stayed behind this time, still recovering from the injuries he had sustained during the fighting. Though frustrated by his inability to take the field, he focused his efforts on managing the camp, overseeing logistics, and ensuring the army’s operations continued without disruption.

The spy who had been identified was dealt with around that time as well. He was dragged through the campsite with his hands bound, paraded before the gathered soldiers as a warning to anyone who might consider following the same path. At the end of the grim display, another soldier stepped forward with a sharpened sword. In a single swift motion, he drew the blade across the traitor’s throat.

The man collapsed almost immediately, his body hitting the ground as blood spilled from the deep wound in his neck.

It was a relatively quick affair. By the time it was over, the soldiers had already begun returning to their duties, and it was as though nothing had happened at all.

Ragnar oversaw the execution with a grim look on his face and after it was over he returned back into his tent to continue reading through the recent reports he received. The eastern villages targeted by the rebels began the long and difficult process of recovery. Supply caravans arrived daily, bringing food, tools, livestock, and construction materials. Families slowly returned to settlements that had been abandoned during the conflict, while plans were drafted to rebuild those that had been destroyed entirely.

And regional lords who had remained suspiciously quiet throughout much of the campaign suddenly rediscovered their loyalty, sending letters reaffirming their commitment to the Crown and offering assistance for reconstruction efforts.

Morana spent the remaining days in the camp.

At times, she visited Ragnar’s tent to check on the progress of his recovery. Once she was satisfied that his wounds were healing properly, she was careful not to intrude on his responsibilities. She gave him space to conduct his duties as he normally would, stayed away from military councils and strategic briefings, and never demanded his attention.

Yet she remained close.

In the evenings, she often took her meals near the camp’s central fire whenever Ragnar did. She also spent hours visiting wounded soldiers, helping where she could with a competence and confidence that gradually earned the respect of those around her. At first, many of the men had watched her with understandable caution. They had witnessed powers unlike anything they had ever seen at the ravine, and such things naturally inspired unease in people.

But as the days passed, the wary glances became less frequent. The soldiers grew accustomed to her presence. They saw her helping the injured and moving through the camp without any expectation of special treatment. Eventually, she became simply another familiar face among them.

Several soldiers had begun greeting her by name and title. Some addressed her as ’Lady Morana’, while others showed even greater respect by calling her ’Duchess Silhara’.

The first time it happened, she had been genuinely surprised. She had never formally introduced herself to any of them.

When she eventually asked Ragnar about it, he informed her, without preamble, that he had personally instructed his soldiers and officials on who she was, how they were to address her, and that she was his mother.

The revelation had left her momentarily speechless. ƒree𝑤ebnσvel.com

Naturally, she asked why and Ragnar’s answer had been characteristically straightforward.

"It was useful for them to know who you are," he had said. "Otherwise they might become suspicious of you remaining among us. Especially after what they saw at the ravine."

The explanation had been practical, delivered with the same matter-of-fact tone he often used.

Even so, Morana could not stop herself from smiling as she thanked him sincerely.

Ragnar, meanwhile, still had no idea how to react when confronted with the full force of her gratitude. The warmth in her expression made him visibly uncomfortable. In the end, he had simply given an awkward nod before changing the subject entirely.

Morana found his slightly flustered reaction strangely endearing.

She and Ragnar never had another conversation like the one they had shared inside his tent. Both of them seemed to understand that the things said then required time before either of them could revisit it. There were wounds between them that could not be healed in a single conversation, no matter how honest it had been.

What developed between them instead was something smaller and easier. Something they could both manage.

Over the days they spent together in the camp, they learned how to exist comfortably in one another’s presence.

For Morana, it was more than she had dared hope for.

Ragnar stopped growing stiff whenever she entered a room. He no longer looked for excuses to leave whenever she approached. Conversations ceased to feel forced.

Likewise, Morana stopped rehearsing every word in her mind before speaking to him. She spoke more freely with him and no longer felt compelled to carefully control every expression or hide every emotion. Little by little, she allowed herself to relax.

Some evenings they sat near the same fire and spoke about inconsequential things. Like stories from previous battles that he fought, memories of places he had visited. And in turn, she told him about her kin, about her father, the side of his family that he had never gotten to know.

Nothing too important and yet, somehow, those conversations felt important all the same.

They were building familiarity where there had once only been distance.

The army departed the eastern region a week after the battle in the ravine.

Ragnar rode at the head of the group, with Casilo positioned at his right. Above them, Morana traveled through the open sky, just as she had during the journey east.

She did not fly high enough to disappear among the clouds. The soldiers could see her clearly whenever they looked upward.