NOVEL WEB Chapter 239: The seeds had been planted.
Leier tucked the Whispering Parchment into her pocket. The words had been broken, fragmented, but the message was clear enough: Divide. Infiltrate. Discord. The mission ahead had just grown heavier, yet knowing that the bastards who slaughtered her family were somewhere within these lands gave her more than enough determination to press forward.
She motioned silently to the Shadow Guards, who responded instantly, melting into the darkness between the trees. Guided only by the faint moonlight and the map in her hand, Leier led them carefully across the unfamiliar terrain. They traveled swiftly, each step precise, each movement silent. Soon enough, a flicker of firelight caught their attention, shining weakly through the branches.
Leier stopped, raising a closed fist to halt her team. Ahead of them stood a small, but heavily guarded encampment. Soldiers surrounded a caravan, their armor glinting faintly against the low fire. The sight was predictable, except for one thing: the nobleman at the center, sitting calmly by the fire, dressed in clothes far too luxurious for the desolate surroundings.
"A noble?" Leier muttered softly, narrowing her eyes. Curiously, the man held a crooked, fragile-looking twig in his hands. No sword, no spear, and judging by his posture and build, he wasn't someone accustomed to battle.
Her sharp gaze moved quickly across the camp. "Twenty soldiers," she silently counted, noting their positions carefully. "One noble who doesn't seem ready for a fight." She paused thoughtfully. "If assassination was the goal, this would be easy."
But tonight required a subtler approach. Leier already had a plan in her mind. She pointed at three of her Shadow Guards, whispering quietly, "Remove your hoods and robes. Keep only the common clothes underneath."
Without hesitation, the women lowered their hoods, revealing faces that were far more attractive than those of average villagers, perfect for the role she needed them to play.
"You remember the plan?" Leier whispered sharply. The three Shadow Guards nodded firmly. Their simple clothing, made of fur and leather, would easily allow them to blend in, though perhaps slightly different from the caravan's soldiers. But after an "attack," no one would question minor differences.
"Good," Leier said calmly, stepping closer to them while unsheathing the small dagger strapped to her thigh. Without speaking another word, she began cutting and tearing their clothes, making it look as if they had just narrowly survived an ambush.
After finishing with the clothes, she paused, dagger raised, meeting each of the women's eyes. There was absolute trust in their gaze, not even a flicker of doubt. At a final, silent nod from them, Leier's blade flashed quickly, delivering precise, shallow cuts along their arms and legs. The three women bore the pain silently, without even a gasp.
Once she finished, Leier stepped back, inspecting her handiwork critically. It was believable enough. She motioned them forward into position, then waited until they were a suitable distance away.
At her signal, the three women suddenly erupted into frantic cries, their voices high with convincing terror - "Help! Somebody help us! Please!" - They began running wildly toward the caravan's camp, stumbling as if desperately fleeing from attackers.
Right on cue, Leier and the remaining Shadow Guards burst from the darkness, chasing after the three women like a pack of barbarians, making as much noise as possible, shouting, stomping, blades clashing against tree trunks. As planned, the chaos hit instantly.
The guards at the caravan snapped to attention, drawing their weapons in unison. The noble also stood, clutching his twig tightly, his calm eyes narrowing as he stared into the treeline.
"Tighten the formation! Maintain your positions!" he shouted. The soldiers obeyed immediately, forming a protective wall around the caravan, placing the noble at its center.
The women's screams echoed louder now. Moments later, three bloodied figures stumbled into view, crying out for help, their torn clothes and panicked faces completing the performance. Their eyes locked on the soldiers, flickering with desperate hope.
"Maintain your positions!" the noble repeated, louder this time. He wasn't about to fall for a simple trick.
Then, Leier and the others appeared, swords drawn, eyes cold, faces set like serial killers. They came to a halt, pretending to be surprised by the presence of the armed caravan.
They hesitated for just a moment, then, as rehearsed, Leier let out a harsh cry and charged, blade first, as if her only goal was to slaughter the three women before they could reach safety.
"Stop them!" the noble shouted, finally breaking his own order. The women were running directly toward them, too close now. If the guards didn't move, he might be caught in the crossfire and his safety jeopardized.
With his command, the guards surged forward, meeting Leier's group halfway. Steel clashed in a fury of movement as the two sides exchanged deadly blows. Amidst the chaos, the three disguised Shadow Guards slipped through the ranks and collapsed inside the formation, breathing heavily, playing the part of terrified survivors.
The skirmish dragged on for three, maybe four minutes, just enough time to make the deception convincing. Then, Leier gave the signal. It was time to retreat. They couldn't stay longer. It had to look like they had failed to eliminate the women and were now withdrawing to regroup.
With practiced ease, the Shadow Guards disengaged from combat, blades twisting and sliding free as they stepped back toward the shadows of the forest. The soldiers pressed forward, trying to push them out completely.
"I will hold them back!" the noble's voice rang out, firm and clear, too confident. His safety didn't seem to be an issue right now.
Leier turned just in time to see the twig in his hand glowing with a soft brown hue. His face was pale, sweat dripping from his brow as if he had just sprinted through the entire forest.
"A mage?" Leier's eyes narrowed. The mage Luna never needed a tool to cast. If this man was using one, it could mean the spell was stronger, or that he lacked something. But one thing was certain: Leier didn't want to test his limits.
Without hesitation, Leier twisted her sword, knocking aside an attacker's blade, and retreated into the treeline, only to feel something gripping her ankle.
She looked down.
A hand made of earth had formed beneath her boot, thick fingers wrapping around her leg. It was climbing fast, her calf, her knee, if she didn't act, it would crush her completely. Two more Shadow Guards were caught nearby, also held by rising mounds of packed soil.
"I hate mages," Leier growled, voice low and sharp. She understood enough of magic to know that spells like this needed intense concentration. And judging by the noble's trembling arms and bloodless face, he seemed more like a beginner than a trained mage.
No time to waste.
In one swift motion, Leier's hand darted to her thigh. Her dagger flew from her fingers a second later, spinning straight toward the noble.
"Fuck!" he shouted, just before the blade grazed his shoulder and buried itself into the wood behind him. The brown glow vanished instantly as he dropped to the ground with a grunt.
The moment his focus broke, the spell collapsed. The soil cracked and fell away from Leier's leg like dried clay. She didn't wait to celebrate. With one last glance toward the three "rescued" women now safe within the circle of soldiers, Leier turned and vanished into the forest.
Her part was done. The seeds had been planted.