CHAPTER 140

  A CORNERED RAT VANISHES

  Somewhere in a laboratory for the privilege where mana researchers were burning oil day and night. The atmosphere turned tense. They didn’t hit the quota this time too, and their boss was growing tense.

  And the tense boss was not someone they wanted to face. High pay had attracted them towards this job, but after signing on, they understood that getting out of this inhumane lab wasn’t a choice.

  The only way was on a coffin to the cemetery, if lucky. But if not, the worst could happen. They could become the test subjects they were looking at, the mutants, they called them, or by general perception—the red demons.

  They sensed the mana, the terrifying pace that was coming towards the underground lab.

  “I should have bolted out when Zilong wrecked havoc and disappeared with other test subjects,” one researcher said.

  Another researcher mumbled. “Yes, that was the only chance.”

  “Shut up if Nodemaster heard. You know what comes after, right?”

  “Higher up won’t be pleased—”

  “Do you even know who is higher than Nodemaster Anfaleen?”

  “Hell, if I know. Merland found out, and the next day we couldn’t find him.”

  “There is no way we could achieve what the node master wants. Even three node stone energy is insufficient for the task he assigned us.”

  “Yeah. And we only have one that we can’t even use.”

  “That’s why. Zilong was the only test subject capable of producing that thing. And the nodemaster still is searching for that man.”

  “Silence. Here he comes. Dunno how many of us die today.”

  Meanwhile, as Hans’s work kept unfolding in his favour, he began to question his choices. “Am I doing the right thing?”

  The thought lingered inside him for little too long.

  “Giving access to a node to Eclipse is not actually a wise choice—I feel I’m taking a silver coin while giving a gold one back.”

  No one answered. Not even the orb.

  He leaned forward, fingers steepled under his chin. “The Rebellion sword,” he murmured, more to the dark than himself. “Aadya said it’s necessary for Father. After he comes back, Eclipse will become his curse. And I’ll get rid of these shackling feelings—I feel like if I don’t send Anfaleen six feet under, something really bad would take place. I need Xandor and Eclipse, they had killed the council member before—I need them if something out of my calculations happens.”

  He hated it. Hated the compromise. But he had never been the kind of person who let idealism outbid necessity. There were costs to every road—he simply chose and strived to make it true.

  Two days. No word from Delimira. Arat had gone quiet too. Silence from both ends was a language he didn’t like.

  He reached for the orb again. Drew the pattern hard for the third time.

  “Come on, Deli,” he muttered. “Three tries is begging.”

  “Kachick!”

  The orb flared. Her image flickered to life, fractured at the edges.

  “You had me for a moment,” he said. “You still kicking? Everything okay, right?”

  “We’ve been hit,” she said. Her voice was iron-flat. “Hard.” She didn’t show it but had a haggard look.

  That made his smile vanish.

  “We had Eclipse cornered. Took three captains alive. Thought we had the noose drawn tight.” Her jaw tightened. “But …”

  “What but?” Hans stood.

  “Eclipse bit back—And…and we saw him again,” Delimira said. “The dead Parvian king. But not the same. Weaker. Like someone was dragging him by strings. King Eleanor and commander Homar stood against…him. For once we were in stalemate.”

  Hans exhaled. Cold.

  He’d guessed as much. Back in Grimgar, Samson had fought like a man puppeteering his own corpse. But now… this was different. With Samson’s consciousness gone, it was bound to be weaker. At least he had felt like this when he visited Eclipse.

  And this proved him right.

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  “Then, what happened?” He asked her to continue.

  “The collision of top rankers, Eleanor, Homar, Adrian, and even the undead king. It was unlike what happened in Knight convention or Grimgar, where they were holding back to not destroy cities. But these warlords are gods in their own right. And when they fought, the map changed.”

  She paused, brushing blood—hers or someone else’s—from her brow.

  “The Golden Gryphons pinned the Eclipse captains. The Crows—shadow family—wrecked the undead lines. They were hunting for Theodred, but he wasn’t there. Or if he was, he wasn’t showing his face—I never liked that guy…he just gives a bad feeling.”

  Before, hearing her say that Hans would have teased her, but this time he closed his eyes. Taking down Eclipse was somewhat Parv’s responsibility and a road that must be taken if not now than later.

  “Did any die?” He didn’t want to know but had to know.

  She hesitated. “None of yours yet.”

  He nodded once. That guilt could stay buried a little longer. He had repeatedly said and believed that guilt is not a luxury a man of his standing should afford. But this whole thing was his creation, and if any Parvian had died, that would be on him. He didn’t want that.

  “Deli,” he said, soft but firm, “Listen, it’s not your war, understand? No unnecessary heroics—”

  She gave him a ghost of a smirk. “That’s your theatre, Hans. I just play the straight roles.”

  “I’ll take that as good news. I’ll talk to you later then.” He let the orb dim and reached for the next one. This one bore a different mark—one that only answered to power, not friendship.

  “Arat. Come in.”

  A moment passed. Then: “Good evening, Prince Hans.”

  “Spare me the ceremony. I need to know what happened.”

  “I assume Aredhel’s daughter had already snitched most of it,” Arat responded. “Eclipse was wounded but not broken.”

  He reiterated the same thing as Delimira.

  “Retreat,” Hans ordered. “Regroup. Attack them enough to make them paranoid. Keep them moving. But not a single Parvian life is to be lost in chasing them. Just harass them enough to the point they’d think of evacuating the Elven federation. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  Arat hesitated. Hans heard it.

  “My prince, if you may explain—”

  “I will not,” Hans said, his voice sharp. “Sorry to be rude, but it’s your job to follow the orders, Prime Minister—If you keep asking me questions, then your intentions in calling me prince come into question. Do you want a puppet—I’m no puppet.”

  “Apologies, my prince. It’s just it is a perfect opportunity, one we may not see again. If you can trust your knights—”

  Hans sighed. “I want Eclipse gone for good—the more they linger the more it hurts the Parvian name but something other than saving our face takes priority here. And if I’m not there to bleed for it, no one else should. I won’t ask for blood I won’t spill. This has always been the tradition of my family, and I won’t be disgracing that either.”

  All Arat wanted was to take down this rogue faction spawned from Parvian lap, but he couldn’t do that now. Not when his prince specifically told him not to.

  Another pause. Arat’s voice, thinner: “I’ll see it done.”

  “And Mr. Arat—Clandor must not suffer unnecessary damage. I don’t need more fires than we’re already stomping.”

  “I’ll switch to attrition,” the Prime Minister said. “Bleed them without dying for it. We can outlast a rogue organisation.”

  Hans let the orb flicker out.

  Then his orders were followed.

  Eclipse staggered under pressure—two predators circling from opposite ends. Arat played his role: whispering to his officers, Trust the words of Imperials. But the Clandorians weren’t fools. They saw through it soon. Parv had lost its appetite for blood, but theirs still burned for power.

  So they too turned their secondary objective to primary. Getting a foothold in Elven federation lands, even if it was in silence.

  The whole Clandor, or what remained of it, was under her control. Those who had defected to Martys’ side paid the great price. Only the loyalists could keep their mage towers, while the rest were submitted to the royal family.

  The towers were originally of the Clandor royal family. In time, due to their great service, some were given to the noble families, and now they had returned to their original owner. She was at her strongest yet.

  Even the Shadow family, fuelled by Martys and the former queen, had calmed down, and with their strongest knight beheaded, their bitter ambition of claiming the crown had vanished.

  Now they were eager to prove their loyalty.

  And this was a perfect opportunity.

  Since Reina had turned the misfortune into an opportunity, the whole nation under her control acted as one for once. The one thing Parv feared—the unification of Clandor—came to life.

  The province where these battles were happening had been a trade for Eclipse’s support in the civil war by the council. The Elven federation had given the lands to them and only kept the name for appearances’ sake.

  It was a huge province, and her work began to change from within. Parvians ruling over the Clandorian populace was what the locals couldn’t see eye to eye with. The Elven federation had abandoned them for profit, so Reina’s open arms were a welcoming grace.

  This too was in Arat’s knowledge, but he didn’t want to provoke Hans by poking his nose where he wasn’t told to.

  Meanwhile, Hans saw it all. Not as a player but the one who owned the board.

  Everyone moved according to his calculations. “No wonder father liked this,” he said one night, alone but for the dying fire in his room. “The control over someone’s life. It’s… intoxicating.”

  Days passed. Eclipse scrambled. Their captains burned through hideouts like matches, never staying still. Informants fell silent. Rumours twisted into ghosts.

  Reina was killing their source of reliable information in every passing moment. Culling the traitors.

  And then, without warning, Eclipse vanished. Even Arat lost its tracking. Meant they were out of range. Out of Clandor.

  Hans rose, dusted ash from his sleeves, and put the two orbs back into the Knapbinder.

  It was time.

  He was going back to the Deadlands.

  Meanwhile, another presence was waiting for Hans in the Deadlands, apart from Zilong. It had been waiting since he had killed Caesar. Gratitude or malice. He couldn’t know which.

  None of that mattered.

  The plan was in motion. Now, he had an army. An edge sharp enough to carve through Anfaleen.

  He gathered his gear, hid his freshly repaired Clandorian armour, bid his goodbyes, and tightened the straps on his cloak. Finally, he set his sights on the SpaceDoor to Concordia Node—to their version of a graduation test, though others called it by a darker name: the Red Demon Raid.

  Only days away.