MTLNOVEL Chapter 145: Critical Points Of Failure
Bellamy stood atop a ridge of scorched earth, the wind carrying the acrid stench of charred wood and blood.
Behind him, Kael barked orders as the surviving druids tended to the wounded and buried the once that had died as they retreated.
The wyverns and bears without riders were corralled, kept in their pens until when they'd be needed once more.
He exhaled, his eyes roaming the camp from where he stood. This was the remains of another failed attempt at their salvation.
His hands clenched into fists at how close they'd been. His axe had tasted the blood of his sister. If he'd just been a breath faster, he'd have severed her head from her shoulders. He'd have saved his people.
Maria's eyes flashed in his mind. The same eyes that had pleaded with him to save her. The same eyes that had deceived him thirty years ago. But this time, he was no longer the naive man with a freshly dead father.
He turned to stare at Kael as the scarred man approached him.
"How's your arm?" He asked.
Kael glanced down at his blackened arm. "The healers were able to save it. But it won't be like it was."
As if to emphasize his point, the hand twitched, Kael staring irritated at it. "That damned Ross." He spat.
That was another lesson Bellamy was coming to learn. Why did he always miscalculate when it comes to that Damned Ross?!
He'd thought the man too tied to his father's orders thirty years ago, but he'd been surprised. The man had taken Maria in and shielded her and from them. He'd even married her!
There was a twinge of resentment in him at his father at the thought. If only Ilyan had agreed to the marriage between Abram and Maria during the negotiations. Then, this wouldn't be happening.
But it was indeed happening. And he'd miscalculated two more times. The first when they'd attempted to take Ross by surprise. He'd called down a rain of lightning and earned the moniker of Sky God. A name that was still being whispered in the camp.
He'd underestimated Abram. He'd thought the man drained. That was his second miscalculation.
The man had fought him and Kael, directed his chains to ensnare barbarians that had later been decimated by the lightning of the dome, and he'd also been moving to the pillar, all at the same time!
If the Ross lord had been focused on fighting just him, Bellamy wasn't sure he'd even win.
His eyes moved to the stack of barrels nearby, guarded by a team of heavily armored druids. Only ten remained. Ten barrels that represented their final, desperate hope.
But the most important weapon was this one hidden behind the ten barrels. The one that would change their fate. The one reserved for Maria.
"What now?" Kael asked from beside him. "How do we get to Maria again?"
"We were too eager." Bellamy muttered, fingers tightening around the haft of his axe. "We tried to blow a single hole and rush through everything. We took down Abram with a barrel, but this time, it won't work."
Kael waited, his scarred face blank.
"So, now, we patch our wounds. We wait. And then we strike again." Bellamy said. He turned to the camp, eyes gazing at his people. "This time, we destroy as many pillars as we can. Ten barrels. Ten points of failure."
"Once we're in, we can destroy more. If we break enough pillars, the dome fails. And when the dome is gone, we finish what we started."
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Ren sat in the cold hall of the outer palace, his body still but his mind screaming.
The world around him moved in silence, a blur of servants, nobles, and guards. Time passed without moving and to Ren, nothing existed.
He didn't know when he'd gotten here. When he'd spoken to the officials. And when he'd been directed to wait.
A voice cut through the haze that existed in his head and he blinked looking up. "Lord Terence Ross. The First Knight is ready to see you."
Ren rose, legs stiff, and followed the official through doors into Bram Rosefield's office. The official bowed before leaving, closing the door behind him.
The First Knight of Albion sat behind his desk, parchment and maps that didn't look like it was of Albion spread out before him. There was a smirk on his face as he gestured for Ren to approach.
"Terence Ross. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Ren stopped in front of the desk, a slight haze still clouding his thoughts. "House Ross accepts your offer, Lord Rosefield. We will relinquish the barony in exchange for the army."
Rosefield leaned back, steepling his fingers in front of him as his grin widened. "Ah, about that... unfortunate timing."
Ren's jaw clenched.
"We've received credible reports," Rosefield said, savoring every word, "that Darius Ross has perished. A tragedy, truly. But this means the real I offered no longer has a leg to stand on."
"Darius Ross died with no heir, and by default, the barony naturally returns to the crown."
The haze in Ren's thoughts disappeared as his heartbeat slowed, his focus returning with an intensity that was almost frightening.
Lord Rosefield chuckled at the expression on Ren's face, as if watching a kid playing at being a Knight.
"And the crown, in its wisdom," he continued, "has reassigned the territory back to the Rosefield family."
"You knew." Ren whispered, something cold building within his chest. "You knew he was dead before I got here."
Rosefield tilted his head, a mockery of sympathy in his eyes. "You came offering something you no longer possessed, Ross. There's no deal to make."
"I have also investigated the breach by the barbarians thoroughly and have come to a fair conclusion. This fight is not related to Albion as a whole. There will be no army." Rosefield said, a smug look in his eyes. "House Ross is on its own."
Ren's fists shook at his sides, the pressure within him building until it felt like his bones would crack. His voice, when it came, was low and clear.
"One day, Lord Rosefield." He whispered. "You will die by my hand."