NOVEL NEXT Chapter 418: Odd
Morning came bitter and dark over Carthage.
The mountain's deep halls seemed quieter than usual, the silence sitting like the calm before a storm. There was a kind of anticipation in the air, as if everyone was waiting for the hammer to drop.
No army had ever attacked Carthage in its entire history. It just hadn't happened before. The Elders were always on the lookout for such things, squashing them before they could even form.
But now, most soldiers were waking up to a new reality. Six of their Elders were gone. Dead. They'd heard rumors that it was a coup, but this was not the time to dwell on that.
While the soldiers fretted in their positions, something different was happening deeper down.
Torches burned low along the corridors of the Elder's Hall, their flames restless in the cold drafts sweeping down from higher chambers.
Aurelius pushed open the massive double doors of his war room. The chamber was vast, its high ceiling arched like the ribs of some slumbering beast, lit only by a scattering of lanterns and the faint glow of light orbs embedded in the stone walls.
A polished table of darkwood stood at the center, carved with the layered maps of Carthage.
As always, his wine waited for him. A crystal carafe stood to the side, the glass catching faint reflections of the pale lantern light.
Aurelius lifted it in silence, poured a full glass, and downed it in one slow motion. The wine was cold on his tongue, and he savoured its taste. It was exceptional as always.
He set the empty glass down with a soft click against the table, then lowered himself into his chair.
With nothing more than a small gesture of his hand, the clerks scurried in. They carried satchels of parchment, their robes fluttering as it brushed against the stone floor. Nervous eyes flicked to him before quickly lowering. They knew better than to test his patience with hesitation.
"Summarize." Aurelius said as he adjusted his silver half mask, his voice flat. He did not even glance at the stacks of parchment. "I've no desire to hear every petty detail."
One of the clerks, a thin man with wide eyes and a trembling hand, stepped forward. He unfurled a scroll but did not read directly. Instead, he spoke quickly, his tone clipped and deferential.
"My lord. The majority of Carthage's standing army has been successfully repositioned to the upper layers, as ordered. The upper four layers are heavily fortified. The mid layers have a sparse presence with skeleton garrisons only. As for the final, deepest layer, your elite guard has been stationed in full force. They await further instruction."
Aurelius drummed his fingers once against the armrest. "And the walls?"
The clerk licked his lips nervously. "Some of the wall guards have been withdrawn, my lord. As you commanded. Enough remains to give the appearance of strength, but gaps have been left… gaps the invaders will surely notice. It will make it easier for them to press the gates."
Aurelius nodded, humming in approval, eyes narrowing behind his silver mask. "Good. Let them taste a false victory, right before they rush down to their deaths."
The clerk's voice wavered as he continued. "The reports also state… that the invading army has fully assembled. They stand before the gates of Carthage, but…" he hesitated, "but they're not attacking, my lord. Not yet."
That drew Aurelius' full attention. His head tilted slightly. "You mean to tell me that Death's army already assembled and formed up, and yet no one seemed fit to inform me?"
His voice was low and dangerous, and the clerks cowered in fear.
But Aurelius had already moved on, his mind settling on something much more important. "You said they're not attacking, right?"
"Yes, my lord. They seem to be waiting for something."
Aurelius sat in silence for a long moment. His fingers kept tapping against the armrest of his chair as he thought about it.
"Odd," he said at last. "Death is not a man of patience. His aura alone eats at those around him. For him to gather his army before our gates and not strike…" He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the carved map table. "What does he wait for?"
The clerk dared a glance upward. "Perhaps reinforcements, my lord?"
"Reinforcements." Aurelius let the word roll across his tongue with disdain.
"Or maybe," he trailed off, his voice sinking into a murmur only for himself, "he waits for us to grow uneasy. To commit our forces too early. He wants us to make the first mistake."
He straightened again, his mask angled down at the clerk. "Tell me, are there movements along the flanks?"
The clerk swallowed hard. "None so far. Scouts report no sign of secondary forces in the valleys."
Aurelius exhaled through his nose. "Then either Death grows cleverer than I gave him credit for… or he is stalling for something else entirely." His voice rose slightly. "And I do not enjoy mysteries."
He waved his hand. "Enough. You've done your part. Leave the reports."
The clerks bowed hastily, depositing their parchment onto the edge of the table before retreating as quickly as they had entered.
The heavy doors of the chamber shut behind them with a low thud, leaving Aurelius alone in the room.
He sat there in silence, digesting the information he had just received. His masked face turned towards the carved maps of Carthage, his gaze tracing the fortifications, the troop placements, the false weaknesses he had left for the invaders. His hand tightened on the armrest of his chair.
Finally, he stood.
"Bring me my armor." Aurelius commanded, his voice echoing around the empty room.
His words carried through the walls. Outside the chamber, guards snapped to attention. Messengers ran to obey.
Aurelius walked toward the tall window that overlooked the inner layers of Carthage, the glow of the light orbs shimmering faintly below.
His reflection gleamed faintly in the glass. Silver mask, broad shoulders, and cold posture. A commander. A warden.
But more than that, soon to be the one who decided Carthage's fate.
He clenched his fist at his side, already feeling the familiar weight of his armor in his mind.
"It's time." Aurelius murmured to the empty room. "If Death waits at our gates… then let him find me ready."