CHAPTER 72: Immovable Wall (Part 2)

The Bomb Has Been Planted

The team used the secret passage that led them to an old barn near the outer wall.

The entrance had been hidden beneath an abandoned storage room attached to one of the older granaries on Valenhart land, sealed behind layered wood, false stone, and a locking mechanism that required three separate confirmations before opening. From the outside, it looked like a forgotten portion of the estate’s old supply system, the kind of place no thief would bother with unless searching for rotten grain and broken tools. Beneath it, however, a narrow tunnel stretched into the dark, reinforced only where necessary and left plain where secrecy mattered more than comfort.

The passage was not yet finished.

Adrian had made that clear before the team entered. The air was cold and slightly damp. Support beams held the older sections in place, while newer reinforcements stood out by the sharpness of their workmanship. Some portions had recently been widened, but others still forced the knights to move in single file, their armor softened with cloth wrappings so metal would not echo too loudly against stone. The mages carried low-light crystals covered by thin caps, giving just enough illumination for footing. No one spoke unless necessary. Even breathing felt measured in the confined dark.

Adrian walked near the center of the group, not at the front.

That position had been agreed upon during planning. Rolan led where terrain demanded expertise. Darius moved close enough to take command immediately if danger appeared. Adrian remained where he could receive information, issue orders, and observe the whole team’s rhythm. He wore a dark winter cloak over fitted field armor, lighter than a knight’s plate but reinforced in key points with prototype inner lining from the smithing workshop. At his belt were scroll cases, signal markers, a short blade, and the MT-60051 communication device secured beneath a layered cover. Nothing on him looked ornamental.

Darius walked as vice-commander with the steadiness of a wall moving through shadow.

Behind them, the twelve selected knights maintained quiet discipline. The two mages, both carrying field packs of scrolls and barrier tools, moved with visible caution. Rolan, ahead of all of them, stopped twice to examine tunnel markings that even the southern workers might have missed if they had not been trained to preserve the route properly. He had been less talkative since departure. The swagger he had worn during the meeting had vanished under the work itself, replaced by the severe attention of a man who understood that jokes had no place where one loose stone, one echo, or one missed footprint could ruin a mission.

After nearly an hour underground, they reached the old barn.

It stood beyond the most visible outer wall line, placed near a stretch of neglected farmland that had once been used to store dry fodder and broken equipment. Snow gathered along its collapsed side, and from a distance, no one would imagine it connected to anything valuable. The exit opened beneath a concealed trapdoor under rotted planks. One by one, the team emerged into the dim winter light. The air outside cut cold against the face after the tunnel’s close pressure.

The barn smelled of old hay, frozen wood, and dust.

Adrian waited until the last knight climbed out before giving the first order. “Close the entrance. No visible marks. Recheck supplies.”

The knights moved at once.

Two secured the trapdoor and brushed disturbed dust back into its natural shape. Another inspected the outside line through a crack in the barn wall. The mages checked scroll cases and mana seals. Rolan stepped outside for less than a minute, returned, and gave a hand signal indicating no nearby movement. Darius watched all of it without interrupting.

Only after the full equipment check was finished did Adrian speak again.

“This is the last point where the mission can still retreat without exposure,” he said. “From this point forward, mistakes leave traces. Confirm your equipment now, not later.”

The soldiers opened packs, checked potions, tightened cloak fastenings, confirmed trap capsules, and tested communication devices at low output. Havel’s prototypes were inspected one by one. Pressure lines. tracking markers. smoke capsules. cold-weather strips. scroll containers. holy seals. No one rushed. The operation’s success depended less on courage than on the refusal to skip small steps.

Darius reported first. “Knight units confirmed.”

One mage followed. “Scrolls and barrier tools confirmed.”

The second mage added, “Cold resistance crystals stable.”

Rolan lifted his bow slightly. “Routes marked. No fresh signs within immediate range.”

Adrian looked at each of them. “Then we depart.”

The march began without banner, horn, or spoken oath.

Rolan took the front, guiding them through a concealed line that avoided the most obvious road approaches. The map Adrian had distributed showed several routes, but Rolan did not follow the ink blindly. He used it as a frame, then adjusted according to snow depth, wind pattern, and terrain cover. Sometimes he led them along low ridges where the trees hid their movement. Sometimes he cut across frozen gullies where footprints would be covered by drifting snow within the hour. Twice, he signaled a halt because the ground ahead had frozen unevenly and might crack under armored weight.

Adrian watched him carefully.

The scout’s value increased with every decision.

After the first hour, the land began rising. The route turned harsher. Snow clung to exposed rock and gathered in pockets beneath twisted roots. The higher terrain offered concealment but demanded more from the knights’ bodies. Their recent mana sensing training helped them regulate breathing and body heat better than before, yet the climb still tested them. No one complained. The two mages used their cold resistance tools sparingly, preserving mana and scroll integrity for the days ahead. Darius moved at a pace that allowed the weaker members to maintain formation without feeling slowed for their sake.

By the time they reached the open cave beneath the higher mountain, the afternoon light had begun to thin.

The cave was more of a natural hollow than a deep cavern, wide enough to conceal their temporary camp and high enough to offer a view of the road below through a break in the stone. From there, the last known ambush point could be seen clearly. Snow had softened much of the terrain, but not enough to erase what mattered.

The marks remained.

For a moment, even the trained knights forgot to breathe properly.

Below them, the paved road bore a long vertical scar where Arslov’s blade had struck. It was not a rough impact line. It was clean. Too clean. The stone had split as if cut by a massive executioner’s sword. The damage extended beyond the road’s surface and cracked part of the ground beneath it. Several trees near the ambush line had been cut in half, their trunks separated at uneven heights where shock and blade pressure had passed through them. One wagon wheel remained broken near the ditch, half-buried in snow. Dried blood had darkened the edges of the road, though the worst had already been covered by winter’s thin veil.

The sight did more than confirm the report.

It taught scale.

A knight who had been quietly confident since leaving the barn lowered his gaze toward the road and said nothing. Another tightened his grip around his spear. One of the mages looked pale. Rolan, who had seen the aftermath already from a farther angle during preliminary scouting, still stared as though measuring the exact reach of the attack.

Darius spoke quietly. “One swing.”

Adrian nodded. “Likely.”

No one liked that answer.

Darius’s fifth-circle presence was steady behind Adrian, but even he did not dismiss the damage. A sixth-circle aura knight with Arslov’s killing experience could not be treated as a simple high-ranked enemy. The mark in the road proved what Adrian had warned them: circle count, terrain, weapon, intent, and brutality combined into a practical threat. Anyone who met that swing carelessly would not receive a second lesson.

Adrian turned from the opening. “Temporary camp here.”

The soldiers moved.

Four knights took defensive positions on the left and right approaches, two to each side, using rocks and low formations as cover. Four others began setting up tents and supply anchors inside the cave, choosing positions that would not be visible from below. The mages started preparing a camouflage barrier along the cave mouth, thin enough not to distort the landscape unnaturally but strong enough to blur movement inside. They also placed cold resistance anchors near the center, preventing the camp from becoming too warm and producing suspicious vapor outside.

Adrian assigned roles without delay. “Rolan, you will scout closer for tracking. Two knights as backup. No engagement. No direct pursuit. If you see movement, observe and return.”

Rolan nodded. “Understood.”

“Two knights will position between the camp and Rolan’s team for faster signal relay. You do not advance unless called. You do not retreat unless ordered or exposed.”

The selected knights answered together. “Understood.”

“Darius and I will conduct a long-range inspection using binoculars. Mages maintain concealment and preserve strength. We operate under staged observation.”

He drew a folded sheet from his pack and placed it on a flat stone.

“First and second day: observation. Third day: trap placement. Fourth day: destruction of the enemy base if Arslov’s schedule is identified. If adjustment becomes necessary, we add days. On the sixth day, whatever the result, we return to the rendezvous point. Successful or not.”

Darius repeated, “Sixth day return is absolute.”

“Correct,” Adrian said. “This operation exists inside a one-week royal reinforcement window. We do not extend beyond it for greed.”

Everyone understood.

The first day ended without incident, which was not the same as peace.

Rolan mapped the area with methodical precision. He returned twice, each time adding to the terrain sketch: old animal trails, half-buried cart marks, possible lookout points, a frozen streambed, two false-safe slopes, and three places where bandits had likely moved goods after the attack. He identified deeper terrain beyond the ambush point, including a narrow passage between rocks that would be invisible from the road but useful for carrying stolen supplies. One of the backup knights reported smoke traces far northwest, though too faint to confirm as a camp.

Adrian recorded every detail.

That night, no fires were lit openly. Warmth came from controlled stones wrapped in cloth and placed beneath the central tent line. Meals were quiet. Watches rotated in pairs. The mages reinforced the camouflage barrier before midnight, and Darius personally checked each guard position twice.

The second day gave them the enemy.

By late morning, Rolan returned with clearer findings. A group of bandits moved along the lower route just after sunrise, not as raiders but as routine scouts. Six men. Light armor. Two bows. One horn. No heavy goods. Their path crossed near the damaged road, then curved back toward a forested incline west of the ambush point. Another group appeared near midday, carrying supplies taken from a hidden storage pocket. By afternoon, the pattern began to reveal itself.

Adrian and Darius watched through binoculars from the cave opening while Rolan marked movements on the map.

“Their rotation is lazy,” Darius said.

“Not lazy,” Adrian replied. “Comfortable.”

Darius understood the difference.

Lazy men made mistakes because they lacked discipline. Comfortable men made mistakes because they believed no one nearby could punish them. Arslov’s bandits belonged to the second category. They still used scouts. They still checked certain approaches. But the repeated routes, uneven intervals, and careless spacing suggested they believed the South would either wait for royal reinforcement or send an obvious military response along the road.

Adrian adjusted the map. “Where is Arslov?”

Rolan pointed to the northwest ridge beyond the suspected camp. “He appears in the late morning. Moves once to the lower line. Returns by noon. Afternoon is strange.”

“Strange how?”

Rolan hesitated, then said, “He disappears into the central tent area with one of the female bandits. Same time both days, according to movement signs and today’s visuals. The guards thin slightly during that period.”

Darius’s expression hardened with distaste.

Adrian only marked the gap.

“Pleasure window,” he said. “Useful.”

No one commented.

Rolan continued, now fully serious and stripped of every trace of earlier looseness. “There is an impossible-looking route on the north side. Most would dismiss it because of the rock angle and snow shelf, but it can be crossed by two men at a time if weight is controlled. It leads to high terrain above the suspected camp.”

He placed another mark. “From here, a fire scroll could be planted near the upper supply cover or dropped into the rear storage if timing is correct. Not easy. Possible.”

Adrian studied the line. “Risk?”

“Falling if the snow shelf breaks. Detect if the wind turns. Escape difficult unless a secondary rope line is prepared.”

“Value?”

“High. It avoids the main scout rotation.”

Darius looked at Adrian. “That is the route for planting.”

“Yes,” Adrian said. “But not today.”

The second day ended with the enemy’s rhythm dissected and the team’s confidence sharpened by evidence rather than pride.

On the third day, all proceeded according to plan.

The traps were laid in stages. Rolan led the northern route team with two knights, moving before dawn while snowfall and low cloud reduced visibility. The mages prepared concealment support from the cave but did not extend their mana far enough to create a detectable fluctuation near the bandit lines. Pressure traps were placed along two likely retreat routes. Smoke capsules were hidden beneath snow-packed stones near the lower bend. Caltrop clusters were buried where horses or hurried feet would naturally pass if the camp scattered. False trail markers were placed to pull weaker bandits toward dead ground.

Adrian personally reviewed each chosen location through the map and binoculars before allowing confirmation.

The fire scroll was planted by midday.

It was set in the high terrain Rolan had identified, concealed near a rear supply cluster connected to the enemy base. The scroll’s casing had been modified by one of the mages according to field instruction. Its timer was set for twenty-four hours after planting confirmation.

Darius asked, “Why twenty-four?”

Adrian answered while checking the scroll confirmation mark. “If their rotation changes, we still have time to adjust and escape. Immediate detonation would satisfy impatience, not strategy. Twenty-four hours gives us a second confirmation window.”

“And if they discover it?”

“Then we retreat and still succeed halfway. The traps remain, their caution rises, their movement slows, and no one on our side is injured.”

Darius nodded.

That was the nature of Adrian’s plan. Even failure had been forced to produce value.

By evening, everything was in place.

The bomb had been planted.

Adrian reviewed the full operation three times before allowing the team to rest. First with Darius. Then with Rolan. Then, with the mages and unit leaders together. The communication devices were tested at low pulse. The rendezvous positions were confirmed. The flare signals were repeated until even the scout could recite them without irritation. Purple: safe exit with success. Red: Arslov sighted or encountered, escape completed. Black: unnecessary event.

The fourth morning came under heavy snow, as expected.

Visibility dropped.

The world outside the cave turned white and gray, muffling sound and reducing long sight. For ordinary travelers, it would have been dangerous weather. For Adrian’s team, it was useful. Snow concealed movement, softened tracks, and made bandits more likely to believe a merchant carriage had slowed from hardship rather than deception.

The decoy carriage had been prepared before dawn.

It was not ornate. It looked like a mid-value merchant vehicle, worth robbing but not suspiciously rich. Crates inside were weighted to sound full and shift properly when moved. Some held worthless scrap disguised under canvas. Others held bait goods marked with enough South Merchant Guild resemblance to tempt interest. Hidden beneath the false floor were Adrian, Darius, and the two mages. It was cramped, dark, and cold, but the interior had been modified with small viewing slits and emergency exit seams.

Four knights acted as mercenary protectors outside.

Their armor had been altered to look mismatched and less disciplined. Cloaks hid the quality of their equipment. Their posture had been deliberately loosened, though not so much that it became parody. Rolan sat as the courier at the front, hood low, hands steady on the reins. His bow was concealed beneath the carriage plank, and a short blade rested near his thigh.

The remaining knights waited behind trees along the selected route, hidden in snow and shadow.

Adrian’s voice came quietly through the interior. “No one acts until the signal.”

Darius, seated across from him in the cramped space, answered, “Understood.”

One mage breathed slowly, palms resting near a scroll case. The other kept one hand near the MT-60051 relay mark connected to Darius’s device. The carriage rolled forward.

Snow struck the roof softly.

Wheels turned over the damaged road.

For a while, there was only the sound of movement and wind.

Then the horses stopped.

Rolan pulled the reins with the practiced tension of a courier suddenly confronted by danger. Outside, boots crunched through snow. More than one man. Six at least. Perhaps more beyond sight. The four disguised knights shifted as hired guards would, hands near weapons but not yet drawn.

A rough voice cut through the snowfall.

“If you value your life, stop the carriage and give everything to us!”

Brutos, vice-captain of the bandits, had arrived.