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98.37% Caracara's Hunt / Chapter 121: Known Weakness

Capítulo 121: Known Weakness

When the sun set on the second day after the escape, it found the group of travelers settling into an inn. Old Madam's health had taken a turn for the worse, which forced everyone to risk entering the small town at the crossroads.

Arawn and Sylvester sat in the common room and nibbled at their food.

The tables around them were full of travelers, who were speaking of the dangers on the road. Their tales were full of woe, but none of them thought to stay or return. The threat of the approaching Bretian army was too great.

"... be annihilated. I heard they're not only looting farmsteads but even taking all the able-bodied men for heavy labor."

"It's gruesome. A cousin of mine managed to run away, but he had gone mad in the camp. He kept raving about what he saw—people being forced to pull the supplies until they fell, then getting caned until they got up or died."

The speaker looked around and lowered his head to whisper. "He said that those who could not stand up were fed to the dogs. There's a whole hundred of them or so being driven along the army. Heaven only knows what for."

"We're doomed. This whole fucking country is doomed." The speaker's companion picked up his flagon of ale and downed it in one go. White foam covered his moustache, and he licked it away. "Us running only delays the inevitable, trust me. With our silk robes of a king, what else can happen? He'll use his fifty wardrobes to defend us? Bah! That bastard deserves what will come for him, but why do we have to suffer with him?"

Arawn took another bite from his bread without tasting it. The atrocities done by the Bretian army made his stomach churn.

"We must stop him," he whispered to Sylvester.

The doctor took a moment to come back from his thoughts. He then rolled his eyes at Arawn. "And how do you propose we do that? You've got an army I don't know about?"

"Some of the Mairyan nobles are thinking to put up a resistance. If we help them…"

Sylvester waved his suggestion away and took a sip of his drink. "Don't dream about the impossible. Bretian army is full of veterans from the northern border and we have a military culture, while what does Mairya have to offer? A few guards who've fought bandits before? No one here has faced a real threat for centuries. They wouldn't win even if they mustered up their whole population."

"You don't have to chop up the whole snake to kill it," Mutallu said. He pulled out a chair and sat down next to Arawn. "The town seems safe. The guards have received no instructions to catch us."

Arawn nodded and thought about what he said. "What did you mean earlier?"

"We can't kill the king," Sylvester said in a soft but harsh voice. "Do you think no one has tried before? You'd be just throwing your life away. The archmage is always by his side, and if he's not, there are at least five hounds. Not that you'd reach them anyway. There's a whole damn army surrounding the king."

Mutallu glanced at Arawn, then looked back at Sylvester. "He can blast his way through. Once he's engaged the guards, I can finish the job."

The plan sounded simple and easy, but the look on Sylvester's face made Arawn think about it again. If looks could kill, Mutallu would be lying on the ground in a pool of blood.

"It's been awhile since I've heard anything so stupid. Do you think the archmage is just a dying old man? He studied Arawn since young, and you think he didn't come up with any countermeasures? Stop daydreaming! He's a spider even more dangerous than the king."

Sylvester's outburst caught the attention of neighboring tables, and a few patrons looked over. Their curiosity was obvious, but the doctor was done with the conversation. He threw the last of his cutlet into his mouth, downed his drink, and stomped up the stairs to his room.

The silence he left was stifling, but Arawn focused on the doctor's arguments. He had never considered how much the archmage may know about him. The memory of when he was trapped in the rock and unable to use the ether came to him, and he shuddered. His powerlessness at that time was not something he recalled fondly.

He ate the rest of his food and left the inn. Mutallu followed him, and they wandered the streets for some time. There was a quietness to the town that Arawn had never seen before. Most people who had not already left stayed indoors and avoided newcomers, especially those who were not Mairyan.

When darkness came, Arawn found himself by a small stream. He sat down on the grass and picked up a few stones to throw into the water. They created ripples that were soon taken away by the current.

"Sylvester has a point," he said to Mutallu behind him. "It's not even a guess on my part. I've experienced being subdued to the point that I couldn't draw even one ether particle to me."

"Then we need a distraction. We have to wait till someone engages the army for us to reach the king."

Mutallu sounded dead set on taking the king's head, and Arawn envied his confidence to try it. There were thousands of unknown factors, and each one could lead to failure. How could they avoid all of them and reach success?

Avoid… Or just go through them and win anyway!

He remembered the beasts who could fight an army on their own. They weren't mages who could overturn cities, but they were just as dangerous. There was no one who could force them to halt in their tracks.

Arawn jumped to his feet and turned to face Mutallu with a smile that reached his ears. "I know what to do! I'll just turn into a beast! The archmage won't be able to do anything to me then!"

Yet his excitement did not reach Mutallu. The young assassin crossed his arms with a frown. "And how are you going to do that? I thought you can't change shape at will? And what if you lose your mind again?"

"I…" Arawn deflated, and his hands fell back to his sides. "I did not think that far.".

"You just need to grab the archmage's attention for a second. That's all it's gonna take for me to kill the king. There's no need to think more about it. This won't even be that hard if we get someone to fight his army and distract him."

It sounded too easy. Killing the dictator of a warrior nation could not be that simple. Even if they had tremendous power and skill, they were also well-known by that king, so he should have prepared a way to deal with them.

And the hounds…

Arawn picked up a small stone from the ground and threw it with full force into the water. There was a loud splash, but the ripples were gone in the blink of an eye.

"What if Corwal stands in our way?" he asked quietly. "What if he's one of the hounds protecting the king? What will you do then?"

Breath caught in Mutallu's throat, and his face visibly paled. "This…"

"Neither of us can defeat him even if we were able to fight him." Arawn picked up a few more stones, but instead of throwing them into the stream, he examined their dirt-covered surface. "If he survived, he would definitely come to oppose us. Yet he's your savior, and mine too. I don't want to attempt killing him a second time."

The idea that he might not have a choice weighted his shoulders down, and he suddenly felt that the stones in his hand were too heavy. He let them slip through his fingers to the ground.

They landed with a soft thud, and Arawn could no longer tell them apart from the other stones. A corner of his lips lifted slightly, and he turned away. He was no longer in the mood to think about what needed to be done.

"Let's go back. Val's family must be worrying about us."

Mutallu nodded, and they made their way back while lost in their thoughts. There was no question that the king had to be dealt with, but how became a lot more complicated when the enemy held your weakness in the palm of his hand.


PENSAMENTOS DOS CRIADORES
SteelCrown SteelCrown

Hey, I'm sorry about being absent for a while again. Something came up irl and I couldn't concentrate on writing. I'm back now though. Again.

Hope you enjoy this chapter, and there will be a new one tomorrow as an apology ^-^

Capítulo 122: New Plan

It was still dark when they set out. The innkeeper gave them a long look, but did not say anything.

Arawn yawned while riding at the back of the group. He hadn't found any rest at night, but nothing had come to his mind. Just like Sylvester, he didn't believe that they had any chance to assassinate the king by themselves.

They needed more allies, but where to find them?

His thoughts strayed to Rain and her mercenary band. If they could help… But why would Rain help? She had been adamant that she would not risk the safety of her people for others' gain.

And Arawn didn't have any money to speak of, let alone enough to hire her or any other mercenaries. It was an idea he hadn't heard being shut down yet, so he urged his horse to Sylvester's side.

The doctor was sitting on a grey mare with his eyes almost closed. The reins hung loosely in his hands, but the horse did not stray from its path.

After Arawn shared his thoughts, Sylvester's eyes opened, and he glanced over with mild surprise. "You've actually been thinking!"

"Does that mean it's a good idea?"

Sylvester shifted in his saddle and looked into the distance for a moment. "Not bad, but not great either. You'll need someone with the funds to hire all the mercenaries in Mairya to assist you, and even then there's still the question if the mercenaries will join.

"They're not true soldiers, and they pick fights that they can win. After all, what's the point of earning big if you're dead?"

"I can bring over Scarlet Treason," Mutallu said suddenly.

Both Arawn and Sylvester turned to him. "Corwal's mercenaries?"

Mutallu nodded. "I command a third of it, and if I convince the others that Corwal needs us to fight against the king, Quinna and Peter will bring their people too."

He didn't sound sure that they would join, but a third of the most renowned mercenary band on their side of the world was still a lot. It might even convince some other groups to join the battle.

There was one question though. "If you're their leader, what have you been doing here all this time? Shouldn't you be like… leading them?"

"Unnecessary." Mutallu pulled on the reins, and his brown stallion snorted in contempt, but slowed down. "Scarlet Treason is too large to march the whole army everywhere, so it was split in three to act separately in small, domestic affairs.

"Corwal nominated me to lead, but no one there needs a child to order them around. We work better together when I'm not there."

"And you're going to march them here how?"

Mutallu glared daggers in Sylvester's direction, but replied nonetheless. "I'll make them listen."

"That's what everyone says before failing miserably." Sylvester chuckled and turned to Arawn. "So you're going to look for that Rain girl?"

Caught off-guard, Arawn blinked a few times. "I am?" He bit his lip to keep himself from saying anything else stupid and thought for a moment. "If we knew where she was, it would be the best course of action, but… I don't think I can find her."

Sylvester tilted his head with his eyebrows furrowed. "We don't?" He raised his hand to support his chin as if he was in deep thought. "I thought Broken Talon was sighted by the borden and forced into the woods by the Mairyan army…. Hmm… I guess it is too much of a bother to go so far."

"What did you say?" Arawn almost jumped out of his saddle. Mutallu also turned back to look at Sylvester with disbelief. "How do you know that?"

The doctor shrugged like him knowing things that Arawn couldn't hear in the town was of no significance. "I heard it being mentioned in passing."

"And pigs fly."

Arawn's lips rose a little at Mutallu's comment, but he was less interested in how Sylvester obtained the information and more in whether he was sure it was correct.

"I can really find her there?" he asked while already thinking of ways to convince Rain.

It wouldn't be easy, but if he could do it… King Bretan was the enemy of all the living. No one could have any peace with him around, be they farmers, mercenaries, or people with a little too much ether.

"She's there," Sylvester said and grew serious once more. "I was told Broken Talon was led by a young woman when it was attacked. King Akiia really wanted to capture her so he could present another traitor to Ayersbert in a show of his good will, but she managed to escape the encirclement and hid in the woods.

"The Mairyan battalion doesn't have enough soldiers to root her out, but getting through them would result in heavy casualties. Her mercenaries aren't as well equipped or have enough mages. However, if she waits, Bretian army will catch her from behind and squash her like a bug."

"I need to go there!"

Arawn raised his reins to redirect his horse toward the border region when he realized he wasn't sure where that was. He froze mid-motion, then glanced at Sylvester with a plea for help.

"Take Mutallu with you. He can navigate, and he'll need to make a detour anyway. There's no more taking the main road back to Ayersbert."

The young assassin nodded and pulled his horse out of the column. He motioned for Arawn to do the same.

It was a sudden change of plans, but they didn't have time to waste. The Bretian army had already crossed the border and was marching forward at a rapid pace. If they didn't hurry up and stop it, they might no longer have the chance later on.

Before they could ride out though, Val galloped to their side. He was still pale and gaunt from his ordeal, but there was a fire in his eyes.

"I'll do everything within my power to rile up the nobles in the area to fight," he swore. Keith pulled on his arm to stop him, but Val shook him off. "I know it'll be dangerous, but I want to help. Mairya is still our home, and those people were the ones who killed father and framed our family!"

Keith could not deny that, and his shoulders slumped. Even if he didn't want to accept it, he knew that unless Mairya prevailed over Ayersbert, they would not see another spring.

"Trust me!" Val repeated through gritted teeth. "I'll make that damned king pay for entering Mairya. He will regret stepping into our home."

"Right, right. Now enough of this melodrama. Let them leave." Sylvester shooed him away with his hand. "It's better to do things and surprise others than to proclaim about what great deeds you're gonna achieve and then fall at the first stumbling block."

Noticing Arawn's worried gaze, Sylvester rolled his eyes. "I'll take care of this fool, don't worry. He won't get himself killed until you return." When no one believed him, he sighed. "Do you find it surprising that I might have a few unresolved disagreements with the king as well? I wouldn't shed any tears if he just fell over and died the next moment."

His words reminded Arawn of what Corwal had told him about the past. To call what Sylvester had gone through a difference in opinions was an understatement of gigantic proportions. With the way his life was ruined right from the start and his personality, it was a surprise he hadn't poisoned the king already.

At the thought of that, Arawn couldn't help but narrow his eyes at Sylvester. Could it be that the king was alive not for the lack of trying on the doctor's part?

It would explain why he would know the king's defenders so well and that no one simple scheme would work…

"Something the matter?" Sylvester asked.

His voice was cheerful and upbeat, but a chill ran down Arawn's back. He gulped and urged his horse to leave.

It didn't matter whether his guess had been correct or not. For a time, he had forgotten that Sylvester had gone through a lot of the same training as Corwal.

He wasn't just a kind and compassionate doctor with a prickly personality.

No, he was a hound who could fake whatever he wanted faked. If he wanted to be friends with someone, he would be, and if he wanted to hurt somebody, that person would not have a good time.

"Take care!" Arawn shouted out and gave a half-hearted wave back.

As he rode forward with Mutallu, he wondered if he was making another huge mistake. He was trusting an almost-hound who was helping him because of his relationship with the hound who had betrayed him.

It sounded like the worst idea he'd ever had, but it was also his only option.

"Please, let the past not repeat itself," he whispered under his breath.

Mutallu glanced at him, but did not ask about it. Even if he didn't know what that was about, it wasn't hard to guess.


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