Chapter 606 - 606 Beginning the Prodson Invasion

606 Beginning the Prodson Invasion

After a good laugh, Hurman waited a moment before getting serious again. “... Regarding your proposed plan, I won’t ask if you’re sure about putting yourself in danger. That’s already certain. But are you sure you want to be the only one there?”

Oli nodded. “Who else would be there? Lambier and Marsel will be busy elsewhere. I guess there’s Opal and Ceela, but that wouldn’t work well. Opal might get recognized as a military deserter.”

“Then why not help Ceela tag along?” Hurman asked. “With light essence, Ceela should be at least as fast as you.”

But Oli shook his head, saying, “It’s not that. The reason I like our plan is because it’s simple. Just because you add more cogs to a clock doesn’t mean it will tell time faster. In plenty of cases, you’ll just end up breaking the clock.”

Shrugging, Hurman replied, “That’s fair. Then you have my full support. Though, I have changed one small detail. So listen closely.”

*********

Late into the night, the second and final moon was already visible in the sky. Dawn was only a few hours away.

Hurman stood at the head of the command table and his task force was gathered around. All eyes were on Lambier, though, as well as the drake standing in Lambier’s shadow. When the drake eventually sank into the shadow, everyone smiled.

“He’s right. I can’t sense a thing,” Opal laughed.

.....

Ceela’s eyes were slightly squinted. She said, “I can’t sense Vero. But… if I keep focusing on it, I can sense that something is strange about your shadow, Lam.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Lambier said. “So long as we’re fast, there shouldn’t be a problem.”

At the far end of the table, Kuldar Libarn stood at attention with a vengeful frown. Beside Kuldar, Reuben Mottz had an equally menacing expression, filled with rage and sorrow.

However, Trantor Forell’s expression showed a bit of nervousness.

Due to possible threats to the city and keeping the morale of the populace, Hurman had ordered Leader Tranton to remain in Forell City. In Leader Tranton’s place, acting as the heir of the Forell Family, Trantor retained his charge as leader of the Forell Family’s subservient and hired troops. It was impossible for Trantor to not feel at least a smidgen of nervousness among so many powerful, commanding perennials. But Trantor stood his own beside the group and spoke up when spoken to.

Nodding, Trantor said, “I can’t sense Vero at all, even with my dark essence.”

Hurman smiled and gave Lambier a thumbs up. “In that case, it’s time to move ahead. Good luck out there. And don’t forget. The moment you take action, leave nothing to chance.”

“Will do, Commander Hurman!” Marsel and Lambier replied in unison.

After a quick kiss to their wives, the duo raced out of the command tent. They were already wearing the Prodson scout uniforms. And with the base camp quickly disappearing behind them, Marsel and Lambier raced into the wooded hills of Prodson with silent excitement.

Unlike Oli’s earlier trip into the wooded hills, Lambier and Marsel weren’t as cautious.

Both perennial mercenaries streaked through the wooded hills in perfect synchronization. Marsel marched as fast as possible while remaining silent. All the while, Lambier breezed through the trees, quietly bounding from branch to branch, carried by his wind essence.

As perennials on the prowl, they could sense the elder scouts before being found out. But Marsel still allowed himself to be found. He strolled up to the scouts asking to talk in private. And before the scouts could get suspicious, a wind blade from above would claim their lives. Then, Marsel would claim the body and move on to find the next scout.

After more than an hour, all the scouts of the wooded hills had been quietly eliminated. So, the duo moved on to the next phase of the plan.

They exited the wooded hills and briefly split up. While Marsel moved ahead to make sure their planned route was clear, Lambier ran to Prodson’s camp on the cliffside.

With a wind-based sensory art, Lambier took a few moments to find his best entry point. Cracking a cocky smile, Lambier withheld his laughter.

‘I told you. It had to be your shadow,’ Oli spoke telepathically.

Lambier nodded while running through the darkness, but Lambier’s feet weren’t touching the ground. He bolted straight for the cliff. In seconds, Lambier’s feet were hovering in the air while his hands hugged and climbed the cliffside. It only took a few minutes for Lambier to reach the cliffside edge of the camp.

There, the ballistae were neatly lined up and covered with tarps. The base of the ballistae was somewhat folded down, allowing them to hide behind the cliff’s rocky edge and easily fold back out to easily take aim at the road below.

After checking that no one was nearby, Lambier rushed to the edge corner of the cliff furthest away from the wooded hills and the Forell-Prodson border.

Once in place, Oli hurriedly hopped out of Lambier’s shadow and covered himself with the tarp of the ballista at the very end. Lambier descended somewhat and waited for five minutes, keeping his senses aware of the surroundings.

‘... I’m in.’

Getting the drake’s verification, Lambier smiled and raced away.

Now alone and inside the shadow beneath the ballista, Oli could only wait. He had no visual of the outside world. He had no way of sensing his surroundings with essence without potentially getting caught by a perennial.

So, Oli kept waiting. And waiting… And waiting.

Eventually, after another hour or two, a few voices finally reached both the ballista and Oli. And they were quickly getting louder.

“... They’re marching now? …”

“... Most likely…”

“... What about the scouts? …”

“... They never reported back. This means Forell is likely making its move… Get in place, but don’t raise your ballista until my order…”

One voice began to stick out among the crowd. From the tone and those few words, Oli quickly deduced that voice as belonging to the man in charge of the ballistae.

A couple of minutes later, the tarp was silently and slowly removed from the ballista.

Now, with a partial visual Oli counted how many feet were gathered around his ballista hiding place.

*Three soldiers. One elder ready to take aim and two adepts on the sides, likely to reload or support however necessary,* Oli quickly deduced. *That’s twelve ballistae, so at least thirty-six men on the cliffside… And there are archers further back. Probably waiting to rush in after the ballistae take their first shots.*

While Oli quickly finished the puzzle of his immediate surroundings, he got a complete perspective of what he was up against and who had the best shot of getting in Oli’s way. Right away, Oli’s deduction led him back to the man giving hushed orders to the manned ballistae. Oli also noticed a portion of a silent formation near his ballista and the next one over.

Silence… spread over the area once again.

The Prodson troops were on standby for nearly half an hour. And yet again, their latest batch of scouts failed to come back.

Dawn soon arrived. The first sun poked its head over the horizon. And only a few minutes later, the troops of the cliffside camp noticed a large force marching down the road, exiting the wooded hills under dawn’s first light.

Still, the cliffside camp was silent. The few words given were a single order under the protection of the ballistas’ long silent formation.

“On my order, raise the ballistae.”

They all waited some more… Another half hour had passed and the Forell march was finally nearing the cliffside camp via the road below.

Another order was quickly given catching Oli somewhat off guard.

“They’re more numerous than we expected. But patience with lead them into our trap. Wait for my order.”

Oli heard a few audible sighs of relief from the nearby troops. From their genuine reactions, Oli could tell that the troops of the cliffside camp were nervous. And many of those troops were far from just nervous. There was a hint of fear as well.

“... I heard that Iron Territory has the most vicious beasts…” one adept quietly commented beside the ballista.

The other adept gave a hushed reply with a shaky voice, “... I heard they ripped perennials apart with their bare hands. And that… they eat perennials raw as a delicacy.”

Nodding slightly behind the ballista, to keep the commanding officer from seeing him, the first adept spoke again, “Yeah… I heard that too.”

“And, I heard they have a dragon…” The second adept’s voice trembled. It was barely loud enough to reach his comrade’s ears.

“Don’t believe every rumor you hear,” the elder directly manning the ballista quietly stated. “If Prodson was actually against a dragon, they would’ve announced something. And the Prodson Family would’ve sued for peace.”

“B-but…” the second adept stammered. His vocal cords nearly seized up, scared to speak and accidentally summon the rumored beast. “Even Blood Moon was wiped out… And they saw a fire-breathing dragon”