NOVEL NEXT 91. Do We Have Terms?
Dust fell from above and into the tunnels below. The smell of sewage was thick in the air, but the men of the Thirty-First remained vigilant. The soldiers worked in teams of four, securing various intersections of the tunnels under their vice-captain's orders. About fifty soldiers of the Thirty-First had failed to evacuate in time. However, not a shred of fear showed in their eyes.
"Knight Slayer, please, for the love of Solas. Could you just remember what I told you?" Luka asked.
"I do remember, I really do, in fact," Benjamin said.
"Then what did I say?"
"I don't know?" Benjamin tilted his head, nearly causing Luka to fall over
"You… you're messing with me, right?" Luka watched as Benjamin shrugged his shoulders with a blank expression. He released a tired sigh and covered his face with the palm of his hand.
The Knight Slayer was old, so it wasn't uncommon for his memory to falter now and then. But when they were defending the walls, it seemed like his illness didn't exist.
"Knight Slayer, please—just focus for me." Luka's voice was calm, but strained. He had grown used to the old man's scattered memory but hoped Benjamin would be a reliable anchor in their time of need. Yet, in the aftermath of the battle, that wasn't the case. Not when everything else was already falling apart.
Could it have been from instinct that Benjamin fought so well?
The thought lingered on Luka's mind, but he didn't have the luxury to dive deeper into it. His gaze drifted to the other soldiers from the Twenty-Eighth and the Twenty-Ninth. They were in tatters, and the knights comprising their main force had fallen. It was a tragedy, and nothing he could say would lessen the pain that came from losing one's comrades. They had been lucky that the Thirtieth had supported them. If not for their sacrifice, there was no telling how many of the Thirty-First would have fallen.
"Vice Captain, Captain Maystone has awakened," said Luther with a troubled gaze.
Luka glanced at Benjamin, watching as the old man curled his mustache. He slowly exhaled while holding his forehead. "Alright, lead the way, Luther."
Their footsteps reverberated through the cobblestone tunnels. The stream of water running down the center left a putrid smell in the air, and the moss on the pathway was crushed beneath their metal boots. He tightly clenched his hands. Tucker was nowhere to be seen. When he came back with reinforcements, their captain was missing.
I ran away again.
Luka bitterly cursed at himself. He knew Tucker wasn't the kind of man to die so easily—but his opponent was Igneel. The odds were stacked against him. If John had been here, he would've stayed. He would've fought. A sharp ache twisted in Luka's chest. No matter how he tried to justify it, the truth was in plain sight—he had left his friend behind. Once again, he did the same thing, and that made him nothing more than a coward.
"Sir, we're here." Luther's voice brought Luka back to reality.
Luka's eyes fell upon the wounded knight on the ground. Blade marks etched into the broken runic armor and heavy cylindrical helm. A long gash split the golden decoration around the eye slit, tearing into the perforated holes near the bottom. From the gash, a look of anger and rage filled the Captain's gaze, but Luka paid no heed to it. Instead, he glanced at the other knights of the Twenty-Eighth and Twenty-Ninth to the side. Their conditions were far more severe, and even with all the potions they had used, it would still take several days for them to regain full strength.
"You bastards of the Thirty-First, don't you have anything to say after causing this mess?"
Luka raised a brow and glared at the Twenty-Eighth's captain. His charcoal hair was visible through the gash in his helm. The ember eyes pierced through the narrow slits but Luka didn't care how furious the Captain was.
"You're saying we caused this mess?" Luka scoffed with a disgusted look on his face. "Did you forget who it was that saved your sorry asses?"
"Yeah, but it was your asses that made us follow this plan." Captain Max Maystone forced himself to stand, meeting Luka's gaze with equal resentment. "If your captain and the Thirtieth had also opposed the plan with us, then we wouldn't be in this shit hole!"
"What?" Luka narrowed his eyes. "What the hell do you mean? Tucker and Captain Morgan would have never agreed to this bullshit."
"Don't fucking lie to me." Max rose to his feet, towering over Luka. "For any plan to be set into motion, all platoons must cast their vote and sign off on it."
"We were never given the option to vote. We were just given orders."
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"Outrageous." Max shook his head. "There would have been an advisor who delivered the news."
Luka stood still and fell deep into thought. "There was an advisor, one wearing a white cloak with blue embroideries. He said his name was Nox, and the commander sent him to deliver orders."
"He's the same fucker that proposed the plan!" Max gritted his teeth and struck the wall with his fist. Bits of dust and stone fell to the ground with a heavy thud. "If what you're saying is true, that means we've been had."
"But why? Why would an advisor set us up for failure?"
"How would I know? But I'll tell you what, once I find that bastard I'll kill him myself!"
Luka examined the bitter expression on Max's face. If what he said was true, then the advisor would have skipped through the procedure by having the Thirty-First deliver the news to Captain Morgan. Then the Twenty-Eighth and Twenty-Ninth platoons would have no choice but to move as well.
Something was wrong, severely wrong.
As the ground above them rumbled from the distant explosions, a gnawing unease crept into Luka's mind. His captain wouldn't have noticed something like this since he had far too many responsibilities to tend to. The only one who could get to the bottom of this was him and no one else.
.
.
.
"Is it that bad?" Brian asked.
"It is… besides a handful of buildings between us and the inner walls, most of the surrounding area has already been conquered," Tucker replied.
"And the Empire hasn't begun moving on to our position?"
"Not yet. It seems like they're making sure their flank is secure before then."
Brian leaned back against the pillar supporting the platform on the second floor. He ran through the various scenarios in his head. There was nowhere for them to run, and the men who regrouped with them were hardly enough to establish a powerful fighting force. Their numbers were now roughly a hundred and fifty. A decent number of common soldiers and a handful of knights had made it to the storage building.
Luckily, it was easy to confirm their identities since most of the soldiers recognized each other. But if a situation arose where they couldn't, then the only option would be to lock them out.
A heavy sigh escaped Brian's lips. No one from the Thirtieth had met up with them. He would be lying if he said he wasn't worried, but right now, they were busy reorganizing the men into functional squads. The men of the Thirty-First were quick to adapt, but the problem was the knights, who refused to set aside their pride.
"Should we give the knights free rein?" Tucker asked.
"No, those guys need to fall in line." Brian glanced at the knights who were resting. "I can lead them, but the problem is that the other soldiers will get caught up in our battle."
"Would the archers still be fine on the second floor?"
"They should be, but with knights fighting in such an enclosed space, even the slightest pressure can break the stances of normal soldiers."
Tucker adjusted the hat Alex gave him and furrowed his brows. After fighting Igneel, he knew Brian was right. If the Thirty-First were even close to their battle, it would only hamper them. But they needed to conserve their strength. The idea of having their strongest force fight waves of enemies while depleting their aura was beyond absurd.
"Sir… you should come to the rooftop." Nemo's voice broke their conversation, but instead of criticizing his junior's behavior, Tucker held his tongue. The once sharp and steady gaze from Nemo now flickered with unease. He kept his hands clenched behind his back, but even the smallest tremble was noticeable to Tucker and Brian. A quiet tension gripped the captains, and without further ado, they both followed Nemo.
They walked up the stone stairs leading to the third floor, then onto the rooftops. Countless soldiers stood in silence, awaiting their captain's arrival. The first thing they noticed was the suffocating silence—no cannon fire, not even a whisper. Then it was the grim expressions carved into the soldiers' faces and the unmistakable dread in their eyes.
Jones and the other soldiers of the Thirty-First immediately saluted them. In a hushed voice, Jones said, "Captain Welford, there's a messenger from the Empire in front of the building."
"A messenger?" Tucker raised a brow. "Did they state their terms?"
"No, they wanted to deliver it to the leader of this garrison."
Tucker turned to Brian, watching as his comrade smirked.
"You're the leader here, Captain Welford," said Brian.
Tucker cursed silently beneath his breath. He glanced at Nemo and Jones, whose eyes seemed to sparkle along with the others in the Thirty-First. With no other choice, he stepped forward and peered over the ledge. Below stood a small group of soldiers, all clad in dull steel armor with crimson capes draped over their shoulders. Their helms were adorned with two horns jutting out from the sides, curling forward like the horns of a beast.
The knight at the center stepped forward with a spear in hand. The tip pointed towards the sky, its flag fluttering boldly in the wind. His voice rang out in a loud and commanding tone. "Are you the leader of this garrison?"
"I am. What's your reason for approaching us?" Tucker asked.
"The request is simple, surrender yourselves and we shall treat you fairly under the treaty of nations."
Hearing this, Tucker couldn't help but laugh. The Treaty of Nations was a document that was signed by every nation on the continent of Arcadia. During times of war, it was nothing more than guidelines as to how each country should conduct itself. But a nation like the Avalon Empire only wanted to dominate their home. If they truly believe in such a thing, they wouldn't have declared a surprise war on the Everheart Kingdom.
"Do we have terms?" The knight asked.
Tucker glanced at the men behind him. Rage filled their eyes, and not a single one showed a hint of agreement. From below, he could sense that the knights on the first floor listening in, likely enhancing their hearing through aura. Judging by their temperament, he didn't need to see their faces to know they were seething at the smug proposal laid before them.
If Tucker were down there himself, he was certain he'd hear someone curse at the knight or, better yet, try to drive a fist through the negotiator's helm. After all, they had all lost someone they knew in this war, and after seeing so much bloodshed, they had already gone past the point of no return.
With a deep breath, Tucker stared down at the knight with eyes filled with resentment. His men watched and stood firm while awaiting his response. But those of the Thirty-First knew their captain well.
Tucker wanted to scream and spit at them for such a proposal. There wasn't an ounce of respect from them, and beneath their helms, the knights were smirking like they already won. In a calm and decisive voice, Tucker spoke in an unyielding voice. "No, go fuck yourselves."