NOVEL NEXT 95. A Note In The Darkness
The sound of footsteps echoed through the dimly lit halls of a conquered building. Barely a whisper echoed in the corridors, and the candles flickered in the wind. Soldiers from the Empire happily chatted amongst one another, indulging in their victories. They clicked their cups against each other and raised them in the air, cheering with smiles on their faces. Yet, amidst the celebration, two guards focused on the storage building in front of them. It was several meters ahead, and over two hundred dead bodies were rotting in the open. Their armor gleamed beneath the candlelight, briefly reflecting the flames as they stood still with their spears in hand.
"Tsk, why do we have to keep guard?" the first Empire soldier asked, peering through the blinds of the window on the second floor.
"It happens. We drew the short end of the straw, so let's just focus on our job," the second guard said. He gazed at the fortified building and sighed. "This is just to raise morale before the next attack."
The second guard slowly inhaled before releasing a long, drawn-out breath. They had seized the surrounding buildings, and now only one remained. Their commanders were content with the results so far and, despite losing a portion of their forces, the losses were considered minimal.
"Shit… I just hope we take that fucking building tomorrow…" The first soldier scratched the back of his head. "Those damn knights said they would join us in the morning, but they didn't say when."
"Tell me about it? Why are those nobles so stubborn and want to live in their tents?"
"Cause they're assholes, that's why."
Both of them let out a sigh, barely fighting back their discontent. The night's cold breeze brushed against their faces, cradling away the warmth. They were displeased with the current situation, but there was nothing they could do. They had no choice but to accept their fate as an eerie silence took over. Both of them slowly glanced back into the dimly lit halls. The cheerful atmosphere from the main room had faded, and not a single sound escaped.
The first guard narrowed his eyes. "Hey… is it me or is it really quiet now?"
"It is…" The second guard gazed back at the storage building. "Did something happen? We haven't seen a thing since we took watch."
"No, I don't think so. We would have noticed those bastards crossing the streets, and if we didn't, then the other guys would."
"Then what happened? Those guys should be partying right now." The second guard clicked his tongue. "Should we check?"
"Fuck it, it wouldn't hurt."
Both guards stepped away from their posts, passing by the candles one by one. Their footsteps echoed in the deserted halls of the building, growing louder as they neared the room where their comrades had been celebrating. But as they approached, a chill crawled down their spine. Not a single noise escaped the doorway ahead, not even a whisper or the sound of chairs scraping against the floor.
A trace of worry flashed across the first guard's face. He leaned in to peer through the doorway, but the sound of metal tearing flesh rang out in his ears. Blood gushed out of his throat as the dagger punched through bone. His body slammed back against the cold stone walls. He tried to react, but it was already too late, and he soon collapsed onto the cold wooden floor.
Before the second guard could scream, a figure dashed out from the doorway. A dark green cloak concealed most of their body, and from the lack of armor and light attire, it was clear the individual wasn't a knight. This meant there was a chance for a counter. Without wasting a second, the guard lunged with his spear, but the figure leapt forward, stepping on the shaft and driving it deep into the wooden floorboards. Wood splinters danced in the air as he drew their blade. A flash of silver sliced through the open space.
With a loud thud, the guard's head rolled on the floor. In one motion, the cloaked figure swung their blade to the side. Blood slid off the surface, streaking across the wall in a wide arc. Behind him were two more figures wearing similar attire with dark clothes and leather boots.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
"Captain, we're done here as well." Jones wiped the blood off his blade with his green tabard. He stared at the corpses in the dark room. To make sure there were no mistakes, Nemo was delivering the last strike through each of their foes' hearts. They couldn't afford to leave a single one of them alive.
But seeing this, he couldn't help but feel as if it was a bit too excessive, even for his captain.
"Is this really necessary?" Jones asked.
Tucker nodded without batting an eye. "It's better to be safe than sorry."
Nemo rubbed the back of his neck while sheathing his sword. "This is our third building, and there's hardly any resistance."
"Yeah… it seems most of them are drunk or celebrating." Jones kicked the half-filled mugs aside. "It makes it easier for us, but aren't they too careless?"
"It works to our advantage. But that being said, it doesn't mean you should lower your guard. Make sure to control your aura so that it protects your body." Tucker glanced at Nemo. "Also, clean your blade before you sheath your weapon."
Nemo stared at his sword. "Why? It's just a bit of blood."
"It ruins the blade and makes it dull." Tucker pointed out. "If we keep moving at this pace, you'll have difficulties in the next fight."
"I see, I see." Jones nodded his head, amazed at Tucker's insight. "Who did you learn this from?"
"My mentor, he's a bit of a stubborn old man, but he taught me what I know," Tucker replied.
"No, wait… we're still going to keep moving?" Nemo asked.
Tucker stared at Nemo's worried complexion. His hands were trembling, and the fatigue was finally building up. They were only out for a few hours, but after all the fighting, it made sense for some strain to build up. Even Jones was suffering from the effects, but kept it hidden.
If it were Luka, Ray, or Eric, they would have been able to keep going, but to hold the same expectations for those who weren't watchmen was unrealistic. He could only be thankful that they volunteered to help. Despite the current situation, they had accomplished a feat that most would consider treacherous. The results from the first building were nothing more than luck. The second? A coincidence. But the third… it couldn't be considered a fluke.
Jones and Nemo were talented. They just weren't properly cared for until now. The soldiers they faced were three-star aura users, even if they were drunk and distracted. It didn't mean they were weak by any means. The fact that Jones and Nemo swiftly dealt with them meant they were just that formidable.
They had taken out fifty or sixty soldiers from the surrounding buildings. If the knights had joined them, then they could have increased the number greatly. There were others from the Thirty-First that wanted to come, but for them to survive the upcoming fight, they needed to conserve their strength. Everything needed to be perfectly balanced, and since their fatigue had built up, this was their limit.
"We'll return for now." Tucker gestured for the two to fall in. "Stick to the plan and don't make any unnecessary movements."
Both of them nodded. The determined light in their eyes shined brightly in the darkness. The pools of blood beneath their feet, along with the sharp metallic tang in the air, filled their nostrils. They had done their job, but something didn't make sense. Even Tucker knew their mission had been far too easy. The Empire had put up a fierce fight during the day.
Was it because they didn't expect us to launch a night assault?
Tucker quietly stepped on the wooden stairs and moved towards the first floor. He wanted to bury the thought, but it wasn't possible. His senses were going out of control and the hair on the back of his neck stood. The Empire's methods were practical and precise. They didn't make mistakes like these. Loss without merit would never be tolerable by their standards.
They carefully moved through the first floor, peering through the window for any signs of life. The soldiers patrolling the area had increased, but so far, it didn't seem like they discovered their handiwork. Nemo and Jones were standing by the windowsill, glancing through the curtains.
"Sir, they're blocking the way we came from," said Jones.
"Should we take them out?" Nemo asked.
"If it doesn't draw attention," Tucker replied.
The three of them walked over to the fallen corpses. Most of them were the same, except for a single one that had a series of ribbons draped over its shoulder. Tucker stopped before the body and knelt down, causing Nemo and Jones to stop. They both stood guard while their captain examined the corpse.
There wasn't a particular reason for him to check the body, but it was good practice to check those that seemed to differ in rank from others. Tucker flipped the body over, eyes falling on the pouch attached to their waist. His hands pulled it free, and after popping open the button, a single note caught his attention.
He held the page in his hand. "Defend the buildings…" He muttered.
Why?
The thought crossed his mind. They didn't plan to attack them at sunrise, but instead planned to defend the buildings? It didn't make sense. Why would they leave unexpected variables alive? Tucker played out the scenarios in his head. It would be the third day since the siege started, but if they gave up on taking the storage building, then that meant they were after something much greater.
Could it be their remaining forces?
No, most of them had already united with them.
Was it another bastion they were after?
Unlikely since they had already breached the fourth bastion.
Tucker crumpled the page in his fist. There was only one explanation—they were planning to attack the inner walls.