Luke tested his restraints and was unsurprised to find that there wasn’t any give. Not that he had expected the revolutionaries to be sloppy about this, especially after he had been so thoroughly outmaneuvered. But trying never hurt anyone.
“They won’t break. I spent the last hour tugging, and the only thing I got was sore wrists. I forgot how that feels after becoming a Journeyman.” Elara muttered from the cell in front of his, looking worse for wear but definitely still alive.
Which was weird, considering he was pretty sure she had been skewered through the head in front of his eyes during the battle.
They were currently underground, a clever way to ensure they couldn’t coordinate a rescue even if they had a means of communication. The cells were smooth dirt with iron bars. The work of a talented mage, who even had the charity to add a few mana crystals to the ceiling to provide dim light.
Attempting to spread his senses to check Elara wasn’t a ghoul or undead monstrosity rebounded harshly, making him hiss in pain.
Yeah, didn’t think that would work. I have been put under constraints by the Archmage of Treon, and they were less overwhelming than these.
Fortunately, the answer to all his questions rounded the corner.
“Ah, my lord! Should I call you my lord? I wouldn’t want to offend.” Luckily, his gamble paid off, and the most powerful man in Hassel didn’t take offense at his words. He even cracked a grin, which was better than expected.
“Luke Smith. I told you the last time we met that you would end up being trouble, and it looks like I was right. And Sir Weiss, or Grand Marshal, is fine.” Leonard Weiss replied, looking and sounding like he hadn’t just fought a massive battle. Another point for this being at least a day after.
“Sir Weiss, then. I don’t know what my status is as a prisoner, but I wouldn’t want to look disingenuous by bowing and scraping after leading a battle against you.” That was another gamble, based entirely on his hope that power and pain hadn’t changed the Hero too much from what he remembered. Again, he was proved correct as he was granted a smile.
“That’s fine. You are my guest in the temporary cells we built to house your men. You’ll be pleased to know that I was able to resurrect more than ninety percent of them. So far, all seventy who we’ve asked to defect and serve under the revolution have responded positively upon being assured that you’d be treated fairly. Your men are very grateful for your leadership, Sir Smith.”
“Technically not a knight, Sir Weiss. I was given command of the stalling operation, but my title remains that of a lowborn. General Locke couldn’t justify elevating me if my contributions during the Incursion weren’t enough to surpass the shame attached to my name.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue, but Luke had long since learned that his actual worth was detached by what society thought of him as a bastard of a noble house.
Leonard raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “Titles and bloodlines are of little concern to me. I judge a man by his actions and capabilities. And you, Luke Smith, have proven yourself more than capable. If I didn’t already know you, your show against Gareth would have been enough to convince me. Not everyone can fight an opponent an entire tier above them for so long.”
Luke allowed himself a small, tired smile. “High praise, coming from the Hero of the Light. But I must admit, I am surprised to find myself alive after the battle. Last I recall, my men and I were in dire straits. I’m almost certain Elara was dead, and I was about to join her.”
Leonard leaned casually against the iron bars, a hint of amusement dancing in his green eyes. “Even I have trouble reconciling with the ability to resurrect others. But I can assure you, all your men are healthy and hale. As for you, I didn’t quite need to go that far. A timely intervention was enough to spare your soul the trip.”
Luke's eyes widened, finally connecting the dots. “That’s far beyond what I’ve read past Champion could do! I've only heard of such power being within the realm of the divine or artifacts of immense power. How…?”
Leonard chuckled softly. “Let's just say I have a special relationship with the Light. It wasn't easy, but I deemed it necessary. Your men are valuable, and it’s a waste to let good soldiers die when they can be brought back to serve a better cause. Their loyalty to you only makes them more desirable.”
Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.
From the corner of his eye, Luke could see Elara barely contain a snort. She was always rebellious, and he genuinely appreciated that in her, but this wasn’t the right moment, so he silenced her with a swift glare.
Going by the amused tilt of his lips, the Hero had noticed, but Luke didn’t expect to be able to fool him. A being capable of resurrecting hundreds—thousands, if he extended the count to the revolutionaries that were no doubt also brought back—would not be limited by human constraints.
Luke gulped, suddenly feeling in a much more precarious position. He didn’t fear for his life, not since the monster before him had gone out of his way to save him, but the sheer possibilities going through his mind… He needed a while to process that.
Gathering his thoughts, Luke decided to move on. “So, what happens now? I assume General Locke managed to escape? He was always slippery and deliberately let my men take the brunt of the fighting.”
Leonard's expression grew serious. “Yes, he did. He was able to get to his prepared position by sacrificing a third of his army in the process. It’s a significant loss, but it’s quite an achievement considering the situation. He’s a cunning strategist, I’ll give him that.”
Luke nodded thoughtfully. “He is. But that means he’s still a threat to you. Can’t march on Treon if the army can attack you from behind.”
Leonard nodded. “Indeed. Which brings us to us. We need capable leaders and strategists, especially those who have relevant information. Your men trust you; most have already sworn loyalty to the revolution. The remaining holdouts will join up once they see you alive. I am offering you a chance to join us. Swear an oath to our cause, and I will give you a position worthy of your intelligence and skills.”
Implied was that he hadn’t been given such a role before, which was a truth Luke knew all too well. Being a bastard of noble birth wasn’t much of a stigma in his daily life—there were too many who could claim to have a few drops of aristocratic blood in their veins—but it significantly hampered him in his military career. It had gotten so bad that he had been sent on a suicide mission despite his proven record, and his commanding officer didn’t even have it out for him!
And then there was the creature before him. Luke didn’t know if he still believed it. He wouldn’t, not until he saw his men with his own eyes, but the fact that Elara was here—likely as proof, which meant the Revolution’s spies had gotten close enough to notice their relationship—was enough for him not to dismiss the claim.
A look at her was enough to know she’d follow his lead.
Luke studied Leonard’s face, searching for any sign of deceit. Finding none, he took a deep breath. “You ask a lot, Sir Weiss. But given the circumstances, I am inclined to accept. I can’t say I was pleased with being sent to die, and the cause of nobility in general is not one I have ever supported.”
The man he was pretty sure had to be an Ascended smiled, eyes glowing with a dim gold in the muted light. “I’ll take your oath later, but for now, welcome to the revolution, Luke Smith. I expect great things from you.”
----------------------------------------
The first action Luke took as an official Captain under the Revolution’s banner was to visit the intelligence department and inform them of everything he thought would be useful and more stuff he didn’t. The Grand Marshal had demonstrated how far his reach went, and he wouldn’t fail the first of many tests sure to come.
That done, and having ensured that his men were alive and not under duress, he dedicated himself to providing a quick victory for his new banner.
“The problem with Locke is that his shoulders are to the wall, and he knows it. Another direct engagement is out of the question, not with how poorly the last one went, and simply sitting still would mean abandoning the city to its fate.” Luke tapped his finger on a map, highlighting a patch of light green where Treon’s southern hills sat. The intelligence department had come through quickly and immediately confirmed where the General had taken his remaining forces. An initial assessment showed they were fortified enough to make them a difficult target for any conventional force.
It was lucky then that the Revolutionary Army was so much more than that.
“I still think we should take advantage of his condition and attack now. He'll have to surrender if we batter his defenses hard enough.” A young man, barely a teenager really, intervened. No one rebuked him for speaking out of turn, and Luke didn’t either. Firstly, because it wasn’t a stupid comment, and secondly, because he was still on probation, and picking a fight with the Hero’s squire was a good way of losing the little trust he had accumulated.
Fortunately, he enjoyed a degree of confidence with the Grand Marshal, and so he had been permitted to participate in the planning session.
Seeing that the man with the power to decide was keeping quiet, Luke decided to go all in. The past few days showed that the revolution was genuine in its aims. People really were treated better. That was more convincing than the cold calculus of power.
He couldn’t afford to remain on the sidelines, not when he still wasn’t trusted by much of the leadership. He needed to do something big, and this was the one occasion he had.
“I volunteer to lead a mission to force the General away from his fortified position. As far as I know, he isn’t aware of my new loyalties and should allow my men to get inside the camp.”
Silence followed.
It was a dangerous proposition. Very dangerous. Enough so to be suspicious.
He was a recently turned enemy, after all. What said he didn’t just go back to his old commanding officer?
But before anyone could raise legitimate concerns, the only man he needed to convince intervened. “Very well. You’ll have all the support you need, and we’ll also plan an escape route for your people.”
That sealed the deal. No one else dared object now that the Grand Marshal had given his approval.
“I’ll join him.” A new voice surprised him. Luke turned slowly because he knew very well who it belonged to.
And there he was. The man who had come very, very close to killing him and who had obliterated a good chunk of his forces. General Gareth Doomspear stared right into Luke’s eyes. Not with anger or disgust as he was used to by many nobles but with enough challenge to be unmistakable. If he refused the offer, he’d show himself as a potential risk. If he accepted, he’d be close to a man capable of killing him at any moment.
A smile stretched Luke’s lips, and he inclined his head in assent.
Extremely powerful walking artillery acquired. Now, he just needed to convince the quartermasters to give him enough food for seventy men and a mage to enchant a lullaby-bell for him.