The air in the valley was tense, heavy with a sense of foreboding. The rebels moved through their routines—fortifying the camp, repairing weapons, and scouting the surrounding cliffs—but their steps were slower, their conversations quieter. The raid on Greystone had taken its toll, and the weight of Juri Winkler’s ambitions pressed heavily on their shoulders.

Juri felt it, too. Though his sharp blue eyes betrayed no hint of doubt, he could see the unease spreading through his ranks like a crack in a dam. His camp was growing restless.

But restlessness wasn’t his only concern.

Dane stood at the edge of the camp, his arms crossed as he watched the rebels work. Beside him, two recruits—Nessa and Rorik—shifted nervously, their eyes darting toward the other rebels to ensure no one was listening.

“This isn’t going to last,” Dane muttered, his voice low. “You’ve seen the way they look at him. Winkler talks big, but every time he sends us into a fight, more of us don’t come back.”

Nessa frowned, her voice barely above a whisper. “What do you want us to do, Dane? If we leave, the nobles will hunt us down.”

“They don’t care about us,” Dane replied, his scarred face twisting into a sneer. “They want him. Winkler’s the one they’re after. If we hand him over, we save ourselves. It’s that simple.”

Rorik glanced toward the center of the camp, where Juri’s workshop loomed like the heart of their rebellion. “You’re talking about betrayal,” he said, his voice shaking.

“I’m talking about survival,” Dane snapped. “Look around you. Half the people here are too scared to speak up, but they’re thinking the same thing. If we don’t act now, we’ll all be dead by the time winter ends.”

Nessa hesitated, her gaze dropping to the snow-covered ground. “And if the others find out what we’re planning?”

“They won’t,” Dane said firmly. “Not until it’s too late.”

Juri sat at his workbench, his fingers moving deftly as he adjusted the intricate mechanisms of his latest invention. The device—a compact drone equipped with a mounted Repeater—was meant to be a scouting tool, but Juri had other plans for it. If he could refine the design, it could serve as both a weapon and a way to outmaneuver the nobles’ Sentinels.

Kira entered the workshop, her arms crossed as she watched him work. “You’ve been quiet lately,” she said.

“Thinking,” Juri replied without looking up.

“About what?”

Juri tightened a bolt and set the drone aside, finally turning to face her. “The nobles won’t stop until they’ve crushed us. Every move we make buys us time, but time isn’t enough. We need something bigger—something that forces them to change the way they fight.”

Kira raised an eyebrow. “And you think that little toy is the answer?”

Juri smirked faintly. “It’s a start. If we can disrupt their tactics, we force them to play on our terms.”

“And how do you plan to do that?”

“By taking the fight to them,” Juri said, his tone sharp. “We’ve been reacting to their moves for too long. It’s time we make them react to us.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

As Juri and Kira spoke, the camp outside grew more restless. Garrick noticed it first—the way the recruits huddled together in quiet conversations, their glances darting toward Juri’s workshop with a mix of suspicion and fear.

Halrick joined him near the main fire pit, his expression grim. “Something’s off,” Halrick said. “The recruits are jumpy, and it’s not just nerves from the last raid.”

Garrick nodded. “It’s Dane. He’s been stirring things up ever since we got back.”

“You think he’s planning something?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Garrick said. “He’s always been vocal about his doubts, but this feels different. More deliberate.”

Halrick frowned, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “We should keep an eye on him. If he’s a problem, we deal with it.”

Garrick hesitated. “And if he’s not? If he’s just scared, like everyone else?”

“Then we remind him who’s in charge,” Halrick said simply.

The next morning, Juri called a meeting in the center of the camp. The rebels gathered around the fire pit, their breath visible in the frigid air as Juri stepped forward, flanked by Halrick and Garrick.

“We’re moving out,” Juri announced, his voice steady. “The nobles are tightening their grip on the region, and we need to disrupt their supply lines before they can mount a full assault on the valley.”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

“We’ll split into teams,” Juri continued. “One group will target a supply caravan heading south from Greystone. The other will scout a nearby factory producing parts for the Sentinels.”

“Scouting?” Halrick asked, raising an eyebrow. “Not sabotage?”

“Not yet,” Juri said. “We need to know what we’re up against first. If we rush in blind, we lose.”

The crowd exchanged uneasy glances, but no one spoke up.

Dane, standing near the back of the group, folded his arms and muttered under his breath.

The rebels set out in two groups, Juri leading the team tasked with scouting the factory. Kira, Garrick, and Halrick accompanied him, their movements swift and silent as they navigated the snow-covered trails.

The factory was located in a narrow valley, its chimneys belching black smoke into the air. From their vantage point on a ridge, the rebels could see workers moving in and out of the building, their breath visible in the cold.

“It’s heavily guarded,” Kira observed, her eyes scanning the perimeter. “More than I expected.”

“Which means it’s important,” Juri said. “We’ll need to find a way in without drawing attention.”

As they planned their approach, a faint rustling in the trees behind them caught Juri’s attention. He froze, his hand instinctively reaching for the Repeater at his side.

“Did you hear that?” he whispered.

The others nodded, their weapons ready.

Suddenly, a group of figures emerged from the shadows—mercenaries armed with swords, bows, and crude firearms.

“It’s an ambush!” Halrick shouted, raising his blade.

The rebels scrambled for cover as the mercenaries opened fire, their arrows and bullets whistling through the air.

Juri ducked behind a boulder, his mind racing. They knew we were coming. But how?

As the battle raged, Juri spotted a familiar face among the mercenaries: Dane.

The sight sent a jolt of anger through him. Dane wasn’t fighting—he was directing the mercenaries, his voice cutting through the chaos as he shouted orders.

Juri’s grip on his Repeater tightened. “That bastard sold us out,” he muttered.

Halrick, crouched beside him, followed his gaze. “I knew he was trouble. Let me take him out.”

“No,” Juri said, his voice cold. “He’s mine.”

The rebels fought back fiercely, their Repeaters roaring to life as they pushed the mercenaries into retreat. Garrick picked off enemies with precise shots from his perch on the ridge, while Kira darted through the fray, her daggers flashing.

Juri moved toward Dane, his movements calculated and deliberate. The former rebel saw him coming and hesitated, his confidence faltering.

“Winkler!” Dane shouted, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Let’s talk about this!”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Juri replied, leveling his Repeater.

Dane’s mouth opened to protest, but the shot was faster. The bullet struck true, and Dane crumpled to the ground, his betrayal silenced.

The mercenaries, seeing their leader fall, broke ranks and fled into the forest.

When the battle ended, the rebels regrouped, their breaths heavy with exhaustion. The snow around them was stained with blood, and the echoes of gunfire still lingered in the air.

Halrick approached Juri, his expression grim. “You didn’t hesitate.”

“Didn’t have a reason to,” Juri replied, his tone cold.

Kira frowned. “This isn’t over. If Dane was working with them, that means the nobles already know about this valley.”

“Let them come,” Juri said, his smirk faint but dangerous. “They’ll regret it.”