Roads to Power

Due to the late update, I decided to bless you with the longer chapter I hope you enjoy it.

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Locating them was easy since, as Darke soldiers, they were meant to guard one of the many posts litter around the keep as part of their training. There was nothing special about them except their sheer grit, and it also helped that their armor was better than most since I bought it for them, an investment indeed; many guards who have served for some time could be seen with a look of jealousy. "Oy! Guys! Come with me, and we got something to do!" I called out at them.

They exchanged a glance, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of their mouths. One of them waved with a lazy flick of his wrist, the motion casual but perhaps laced with something more—anticipation. "Okay, coming right up," he said, as though the words were already rehearsed, though a spark in his eyes told me otherwise.

The other guard, not entirely as composed, broke into a grin that stretched more expansive by the second. "Whenever he calls, it's a chance to make an impression—better move fast if we don't want to miss it!" His voice was almost eager, an undercurrent of energy growing with each passing second.

I could see it now—the subtle tension in how they stood and their eyes flicked toward me like this moment was more than just another duty. It wasn't just about the call or the task—it was an opportunity. They were hungry for something more, a chance to prove themselves, to show they had the skills, the drive to move up in their lord's eyes. They wanted to stand out, to be noticed. And who could blame them? The kind of ambition kept the wheels of a place like this turning.

Good. I appreciated the enthusiasm. It would make my job easier, and their efforts wouldn't go unnoticed. They'd be rewarded, just not in the way they might expect.

"Just make sure you let the other guards know to cover your post," I reminded them, my tone firm but not unkind. "We can't afford any gaps."

They nodded quickly, the energy in their step now matched by the swift way they darted off. They were already halfway out the door, barely waiting for my words to fully settle in the air before they were off, eager to make their mark.

-General (3rd person) POV-

After Damien met with Ser Merwyn, he noticed that his instructor had gathered six mounted guards, too. They all seemed decently armored, but so were Damien and his men. Well, boys, but who cares? Merwyn smiled. "Well, I thought you wouldn't bring guards, so I even brought some for you. This might be a little much for a small bandit group, but it never hurts to be truly prepared, We ride."

The squadron moved forward, the rhythmic clopping of their horses' hooves a constant undercurrent to the lively chatter among the men. They shared stories—favorite battles fought, near-death experiences, tales of glory and loss. Some stories were half-forgotten, others exaggerated for laughs, but they kept their spirits high. The journey through the dense wilderness was always tense, but the men took solace in familiar banter for now. Damien, however, remained quiet, his gaze ever alert. His guards surrounded him, but even in the company of loyal men, he couldn't afford to let his guard down. His instincts had saved him countless times, and they were sharpened by years of training and experience. Something about the forest ahead was unsettling—a sense of wrongness that prickled his skin. As they approached the edge of the woods, where the trees loomed thick and shadowed, Damien finally spoke, his voice cutting through the chatter like a blade. "Should we leave the horses here?" he asked, looking around at the group of men. His voice wasn't one of hesitation but of careful consideration. He had already been thinking about it for some time. Merwyn, riding just a few paces behind, cocked his head, a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes. He hadn't expected the suggestion so soon. "We could," he said slowly, his tone measured but not dismissive. "But why? The horses are our lifeline out here. It'd be foolish to leave them too far behind." "Yes," added Arthur, a grizzled older man who had seen his fair share of conflict. "The horses are faster than we are. We could use them if things go south." Damien glanced over at Arthur, his eyes narrowing slightly. The older guard had a practical mind, but Damien had learned long ago that practicality could sometimes blind a man to the bigger picture. "That's the very reason we need to leave them behind," Damien replied, his tone firm but not unkind. "If we bring them into the woods, they'll give us away. The sound of their hooves and the rustling of their bodies will alert anyone watching from the trees. If we're up against a well-prepared group, that'll be enough to set off an ambush." He paused, letting his words sink in. The silence that followed was thick as each man considered the implications. "And they don't do well in places like this. The forest is dense, full of roots and uneven ground. If one of them stumbles and falls, they'll crush us or alert the enemy with the noise. Worse, if they get spooked, they'll bolt, and we'll be left stranded." The men exchanged glances, the weight of Damien's reasoning settling into their minds. No one spoke momentarily, the forest around them growing quieter as the air thickened with tension. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the next words to break the silence. Merwyn, after a pause, nodded slowly, his face unreadable. "I see your point, my lord," he said, finally breaking the quiet. "Horses may be faster, but they're also a liability in this terrain." He glanced over at the other guards. "We don't want to make ourselves easy targets, especially if we're going in blind." His eyes flicked to the dense thicket ahead. "And it would be difficult to maneuver them in there anyway." Arthur grunted in agreement. "He's right. You can't control a horse in a forest like this. Better to leave them behind, give ourselves more freedom of movement." "Agreed," said another guard, Lukas, a younger man with a sharp look in his eyes. "But what about getting out? How should we return to the horses if we're in the thick of it?" "We'll worry about that later," Damien replied, his gaze scanning the trees ahead. "If we're forced into a retreat, we'll take the horses. But for now, moving quietly is the priority. We don't need any more attention than we already have." The young lord's words seemed to settle the matter, and one by one, the men dismounted. They moved with practiced precision, tying the horses to nearby trees, each man ensuring the animals were secure but not tethered too tightly—in case they needed to flee quickly. As they worked, Damien remained silent, his mind still focused on the looming uncertainty of the forest ahead. Merwyn, now off his horse and standing next to Damien, looked at the younger man with a thoughtful expression. "You've been quiet, my lord. I can see the wheels turning in your mind. Is there something else you're worried about?" Damien looked over at Merwyn, meeting his gaze. The old guard had known him since he was a child, and few could read him as well as Merwyn. "Everything about this feels off," Damien said quietly, more to himself than anyone else. "The village we passed through claimed they saw bandits here, but I'm unconvinced. There's something in the air, more than just a group of thieves. They're too organized. Too bold. I don't think it's just a raid. This feels like a setup." Merwyn raised an eyebrow. "You think they're expecting us?" "Maybe," Damien replied. "But if they are, they're good. Too good for a simple ambush. We need to be ready for anything. We might not see it coming if it is a trap until we're inside it." Lukas, overhearing the conversation, frowned. "You think we're walking into a trap, my lord? Do you have a plan if we are?" Damien nodded, his eyes still scanning the forest line. "We'll move in slowly, cautiously. Stay spread out, keep our distance from one another. Could you not give them any advantage? If anyone sees something suspicious, we stop and regroup. No heroics, no rushing in blind. We wait for the signal." Arthur spoke up then, his voice gravelly with years of experience. "And if they do have us surrounded, what then? You think we'll turn around and walk away?" "No," Damien said flatly. "We fight. But only if we have no choice. We have to stay smart. A fight here could be more than we can handle. These woods are too dense and too easy to get lost in. Our best chance is to remain unseen, keep them guessing." Merwyn observed the young lord. "You've got your head in the right place," he said. "But remember, even if we're prepared, we can't predict everything. Trust your men. We'll get through this together." Damien gave a tight nod, his gaze hardening as he returned to the trees. "I trust them. But trust won't be enough if we don't stay sharp." The rest of the squadron gathered their equipment, checked their weapons, and made final adjustments. They moved quietly, their voices now reduced to murmurs, each man keenly aware of the tension in the air. No one wanted to be the first to step into the dark, but the forest was waiting, and there was no turning back now. "How sure are you that this informant isn't working with the bandits to lead us into a trap?" Damien asked, his voice low, almost to himself. Merwyn paused momentarily, tying his reins to a nearby tree before responding. His eyes seemed distant, thoughtful. "I can't say for certain," he admitted. "But it's a risk we have to take. The villagers are terrified, and I can't see why they'd lie about this. But we've been misled before." Damien's eyes flickered briefly to Merwyn, impressed by the honesty in his voice. "We'll take the risk. But we stay alert, always." "I understand, my lord," Merwyn said grimly. "And if it is a trap… we'll be ready."