Dungeon of Pride, Laplace

Chapter 959- Duke Vordanaz (3)

The moon was a thin, pale sliver in the sky as the two forces began to split. The soldiers moved quietly, speaking in hushed whispers and muffling the clinking of armor.

The main force—led by Dravik—began their eastward march toward Mount Gorgor under the cover of night. They moved in short groups, each unit slipping through forest paths and shallow valleys to avoid detection.

These people were barely half a soldier, much less a ranger who could traverse these mountains and forests easily. As such, each step they took had to be measured and slow which ate up significant of their time.

Meanwhile, Simon's decoy force stayed behind, lighting campfires and raising tents to create the illusion that the entire army was preparing to engage the enemy at dawn. As wooden barricades and fake fortifications were being set up, he noticed something.

The mood in the decoy camp was heavy, almost suffocating. The mercenaries left behind—or chosen, more precisely forced—as the decoy looked at Simon with a mixture of fear and resentment.

Some glared at him, their eyes filled with bitterness, while others gripped their weapons with white-knuckled hands. A few were already trembling nervously, their spirits shattered before the battle even began.

All of them were blaming Simon for their situation after all, they were caught in this mess because their leader chose to volunteer for this absurd role.

When it was first announced that the army would be moving eastward and a decoy force would be left behind to attract the enemy's attention, everybody realised that the ones who will be behind are the one who have been forsaken and sacrificed for the greater half.

Nobody wanted to become that much less volunteer for it. So when Simon raised his hand for the job, his mercenary team and the soldiers he led were disappointed, horrified even. Morale was at rock bottom.

Simon surveyed them silently. Most of these men knew what was coming—and many believed they would not survive the night. They weren't entirely wrong.

"We're already dead... there's no way we can hold them" One of the mercenaries whispered to the man beside him, his voice cracking.

It was not only him, many had the same thought as this mercenary. Their words spread like poison in the air, choking what little hope or fight they had within them.

Seeing this scene, Simon clicked his tongue in frustration. It's not like he chose to be the decoy because he wanted to, the trial was forcing his hand. He wanted them to stop glaring at him with eyes full of resentment.

"Ahem" he gave a cough before gathering their attention. "What you all are thinking might be right. Yeah, we are going to die tonight."

SILENCE~ as soon as those words left his mouth, The camp fell silent, every face turning toward him. Some looked confused, others angry.

Just as they were about to explode into curses, he continued—

"But not just anyone was chosen to be here. You see, it takes more than ordinary soldiers to be left behind. No, only the strongest of the strongest are given this kind of mission. That's who you are. Warriors who have been recognized for their strength."

 His words hit the men like a splash of cold water. "Do you think they would leave just anyone behind for a job like this? No. They chose you because they knew you could handle it. Only the most seasoned, the most trustable warriors were left behind for this mission"

"So ask yourself—how many men out there can say they were chosen to hold the enemy at bay, alone, and live to tell the tale? The ones who fight tonight—right here—are already legends. And legends don't die easy. So men are you going to fight with me?".

At his roar, the mercenaries and the soldiers began to straighten their bodies, their grips on their weapons firming.

Others exchanged glances, murmuring quietly among themselves. Soon The tension in the air began to shift.

The fear didn't vanish entirely, but one could definitely feel it losing its grip on these men. Some of them grinned in determination, others chuckled darkly. They roared… "Yeah!!!".

With morale steadied, the men got to work. They reinforced the barricades along the camp's perimeter, piling up wooden stakes and sharpened logs to create obstacles.

 Some of the more experienced fighters dug shallow trenches to slow the enemy's charge. Others made makeshift torches and set them along the path they expected the enemy scouts to take. n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

The camp started started hustling and bustling. Simon moved among the camp, checking up on the soldiers and offering words of encouragement where they were needed.

Everyone saw him as a dependable leader, wise and strong. However, if they knew what was on his mind, perhaps it wouldn't take them to change their minds in an instant.

'Thank god these people are idiots. Had they more brains for brawns, I wouldn't have been able to manipulate them so easily. Since I have chosen to act as the decoy, I need them to properly play their part'

Many of them would die or perhaps their entire platoon would be annihilated. However, there was nothing he could do. He did his best to keep the death toll as low as possible to complete the sub quest.

From this point on, he just had to hope that luck would play out in his favour.

.

.

The moon hung high above the treetops, casting a pale silver light over the decoy camp. A faint breeze stirred the leaves, and the forest around them remained still and unnervingly quiet.

"It was too quiet" Simon muttered looking at the moons. From its position, he could tell that they were halfway through the night.

In the distance, Rothgard's main force was likely still marching toward the fortress at Mount Gorgor. Every moment that he and his men bought here was another step closer to securing the alliance's foothold.

The only thing that mattered now was time. Simon looked up at the moon again, gauging its progress across the sky. Three hours until dawn.