The first decoy fires were already smoldering beneath the morning mist when Aldric halted at the top of the western tower, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the tree line. From there, he could see the smoke rising in carefully measured columns—just enough to suggest a military presence, but not so much as to scream "trap."
Below, Charles was directing the scouts."They'll see it from their hill before noon," he called up. "And if they're as arrogant as we think, they'll believe it's a rushed deployment."
Aldric nodded slightly."Good. Let them chase shadows while we dig their grave."
But even as he spoke, unease burned in his gut.
Before midday, word came from the east: the enemy had moved. A sizeable force had broken off from the main camp and was advancing... not toward the western forest, but directly toward the fortress from the northeast.
"They didn't take the bait," Charles muttered, frowning.
"They're being cautious," Aldric replied. "The duke sent someone smarter than we expected."
Pierre burst into the strategy room, pale-faced, holding a sealed letter."The messenger returned. The duke has answered."
Aldric broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. The handwriting was elegant. The tone, arrogant.
"Your metaphors are poetic, but I deal in realities. You speak of men awakened; I see only frightened boys behind stone walls. I don't need to crush you to win. I simply have to wait until your allies remember they were never loyal to a boy who dreams of hawks."
No crest. No signature. But the arrogance was signature enough.
Aldric lowered the letter slowly."He's provoking me. Trying to draw me out of the fortress."
Charles narrowed his eyes."And is he succeeding?"
Aldric didn't answer. He stepped toward the map and moved one of the wooden tokens—the one that represented himself—one space forward.
"We change the plan. We're not staying behind these walls."
"What do you mean?" asked Pierre.
"I mean tonight we strike their supply line."
The captains exchanged glances. A night assault, that deep into enemy territory, was bold. Risky. Almost reckless.
But Aldric's voice was unwavering."They've moved too far from their reserves. If we cut off their supplies, they'll either retreat or risk starving. Either way, they lose the initiative."
Charles crossed his arms."And who's leading the raid?"
"I am."
Pierre opened his mouth to protest, but Charles raised a hand. After a beat of silence, he sighed."Then I'm going with you."
That night, under an ink-black sky, Aldric and his twenty chosen riders rode the old hunting trail in tight formation. They carried no banners, no armor that might catch moonlight and betray them. Only dark wool cloaks, daggers at their belts, and shortbows for those who could shoot in the dark.
The forest seemed to hold its breath. Every hoofstep muffled by damp soil, every twig snapped beneath their horses echoed like a thunderclap.
"Silence," Aldric whispered, raising a hand.
They covered the final stretch on foot, leading their mounts carefully. A scout moved ahead, slipping through the trees like a shadow. He returned crouched, face taut.
"The camp is less than a hundred paces out," he murmured. "Two guards at the clearing's edge, three more by the fire. One large cart under canvas—could be tools or more rations. And two tents."
Aldric nodded. He knelt beside Charles and scratched a quick plan into the damp earth.
"We split into three squads. One hits the tents. Another sets the carts ablaze. The third frees the horses."
"And us?" asked Charles, tense.
Aldric looked up."We go in first. Take out the sentries. Quietly. If one of them screams, the whole plan collapses."
Charles gave a tight grin."Business as usual, then."
Aldric turned to the riders, his voice dropping to a blade-thin whisper."Tonight we are not knights. Not nobles. We are knives in the dark. We strike, then vanish."
They moved among the trees like phantoms.
Aldric and Charles crept toward the sentries at the edge of the clearing. Two men—one leaning on a spear, the other yawning with his arms crossed. They never saw them coming.
In an instant, the first dropped with his throat slit. The second barely drew breath before Charles stabbed him in the back and clamped a gloved hand over his mouth.
The bodies were dragged into the woods. The raid had begun.
Within seconds, shadows poured out of the forest and descended on the camp.
A shout pierced the air as one of the soldiers by the fire stood, spotting Aldric charging in. Too late. Aldric's dagger sank into his gut, and with his free hand, he shoved the man into the flames. Another of Aldric's men finished the second guard with a clean thrust under the chin.
One of the carts burst into flames as an improvised torch hit its grease-covered canvas. The fire roared, casting hellish light across the clearing, shadows dancing like mad specters.
"Cut the horses loose!" shouted Charles, slashing the ropes on a makeshift pen.
The animals, panicked by the fire, neighed and reared, then bolted in all directions, trampling a sack of grain and crushing a barrel that exploded in a white cloud of flour.
From one of the tents staggered a dazed enemy officer, barely wrapped in a cloak. He managed to shout:
"We're under att—"
An arrow silenced him mid-sentence, piercing his throat.
Chaos reigned. One of Aldric's squires ignited a second cart, hurling a bottle of cooking oil onto it. The blaze grew fiercer, rising like a signal fire amid the woods.
Then came a horn. Distant, but unmistakable.
"Enemy reinforcements!" one rider called. "From the north!"
Aldric clicked his tongue."Time to go!"
His men broke formation and scattered. Charles held the rear, cutting down an enemy who came rushing with a spear.
"Move!" he shouted, breathless.
Aldric was the last to retreat, his cloak singed at the edge, a fresh cut on his cheek. Before vanishing into the darkness, he cast one last look back.
The carts burned like furnaces. The camp had become a hell of smoke, fire, and men running in all directions. The strike had landed true.
Far from the flames, riding fast along hidden paths, Charles let out a shaky laugh.
"That's going to make them bleed."
Aldric, his face smeared with soot, shook his head, still catching his breath."No. That's going to make them angry."
And that was exactly what he needed.