Chapter 52: Chapter 52.0 – Tricks have Limits

“Damon, I need you to do the same to Yivaldi as you did to that other fortification,” said Tennito.

For the past few days, Tennito’s forces had continued to creep into the royal’s territory. Seizing village after village. Setting up towers and relay centers. However, these small and easy gains couldn’t continue indefinitely. They had finally reached their first obstacle. A fortified city by the name of Yivaldi manned by a few hundred, but well-trained warriors and mages.

“That is of no worries,” answered Damon. After weeks of hunting scouting parties and getting accustomed to arial combat he felt untouchable. However, he also reached a wall. It had been more than a year since he last leveled up and the experience points, he gained from the couple dozen humans and beasts wouldn’t put him over the edge anytime soon. If he wanted to level up, he’d need to take part in a massacre. He wished that the first fortified town hadn’t resigned at the first sign of hardship.

Damon ke Stolas LVL. 18 (3650/8106)

 

• All humanoid language acquisitions
• All demonic language acquisitions
• Arithmetic’s Lvl.6/7
• Black magic Lvl.4/10
• Dark magic Lvl.4/10
• Dark spirit communication Lvl.4/10
• Detect diseases and viruses through smell Lvl.3/5
• Earth magic Lvl.4/5
• Human transformation
• Improved memory Lvl.3/5
• Complete disease tolerance
• Night vision
• 30/20 vision
• Soul sight and touch
• Star navigation
• Telepathy Lvl.3/5

Reviewing his stats once again he understood how, although somewhat straining on the mind, his life as a hermit, recluse, or whatever one wished to call him was a blessing. Teaching, going on campaign, and everything else included in “normal” everyday life drained time like a pressurised pump. And once again Damon felt the urge to go out on an adventure. A true adventure this time. One which lasted years and where he did not get bogged down by village politics or anything else.

Thankfully, this siege had the opportunity to grant him a few hundred or even thousand experience points if the defenders had the balls to fight.

“Good,” answered Tennito. “We will need to assault the fort within the week as Grevaldi has apparently started moving and should arrive here in the next ten days.

#

Damon once again waited for night to come. He took to the skies with a large flask of poison and dove down towards the city.

However, as he unfurled his wings the large vase he held in his hands shattered. Surprised, Damon hurriedly beat his wings and retreated high into the sky and turned back to escape. He felt a strong pressure impacted his back, lost control of his wings, and started to fall. He now faced the ground and a most likely deadly crash into trees which no longer looked like cozy nests but deadly spikes. Mind racing and heart pumping he ran through his list of skills. However, dark magic wouldn’t do him much good, nor could he use earth magic when untethered from the ground. Damon tried to beat his wings once again, however, as soon as he tried to push them down, the strong winds threw them back into the air.

“Stolas, fast, I’m falling and can’t fly. Save me.” He screamed mentally. However, he kept on falling.

#

Damon’s regained consciousness and when he tried to open his eyes a piercing headache and a pounding pain on his right oblique assaulted him. Damon screamed, trying to control the pain he gritted his teeth and reached out to the painful areas. His hands felt wet. His eyes struggled open and confirmed the crimson paint on his hands. Pushing himself up, he saw that a large piece of wood stuck out of his abdomen. Although he might have been lucky to come out of the ordeal alive if he wasn’t treated soon, he would die.

“Help!” screamed Damon. He tried to look over the foliage and listen for any signs of life. And then he heard rustling to his left. “Here, I’m here.” He weezed.

Now that he located help and saw where the pain came from, he remembered the initial strike on his back. He quickly turned his head back and ran both hands along the ground. To his great relief his wings were still there. He tried to flap them, and they seemed to work fine, although they were severely weakened. When the rustling grew louder, he remembered that his demonic form was not to be seen and so his wings folded back into his body, his horns retracted, and his skin turned back into the purplish black of a dark elf.

“We’ve found him,” said the first man to appear out of the bushes.

A second one soon appeared and called out, “he’s badly injured, I doubt he’ll pose a threat, bring out the restrictive gear and a holy mage.”

Damon heard these words and cursed internally. These people were definitely not on his side. He should just be grateful they called for a healer and not a blade.

#

Cold water ran down Damon’s head. He opened his eyes and they started to burn with the distinct feel of salty sweat. As Damon blinked away the pain the voice of a woman echoed in the room. “What is your name?”

Damon was still too occupied to respond, nor did he know how to do so.

“What is your name,” repeated the woman.

Damon first looked around to try and find where she was. However, all he could see were rock walls. The sound of rattling chains started to ring in his ears as he tried to locate any notable feature in the cell.

“AHHH!” screamed Damon. Something seemed to have pierce his flank once again. However, when he tried to look down a thick metal collar wrapped around his neck prevented him from doing so.

“ANSWER!” this word resounded from everywhere at once.

“Ok! Ok I will, just give me time to respond.”

Damon heard a snicker. “Since when does it take time to say one’s name.”

Damon understood what they were doing, bombar— “Fuck. My name is Damon! Stop, I said my name so stop.” The pain had started to delve deeper into his body.

“Damon, is that it?”

The pain slowed however, it continued to creep and as his screams quieted down the sound of blood dripping onto rock slabs echoed in his cell.

“Damon ke Stolas… that is my full name I swear,” he forced out.

“You swear on what? Spare me. What is the name of your organization?”

There was no way this person knew the name we used for the sect. In truth we didn’t even have one, we simply called it the tree sect since that was our base. Even if they did know it wouldn’t lead to anything. “We call ourselves the shadow sect,” answered Damon.

The pain resumed, now in his left arm. That’s when he realized that both his hands were behind his back and his palms were what could best be described as glued to his back. He also grew aware that he was suspended in the air. “I swear we call it the shadow sect.” Damon called her bluff. The pain stopped.

“You’re lying, but I’ll move on since you are in such a pitiable state.”

His legs seemed to be parallel to the ground and the little light he could use to see with his nigh vision came from above. That was most likely were his interrogator was. And to produce the echo his cell was probably shaped like a sphere. All in all, he was in what could best be described as a maximum-security prison.

“Where did your sect come from?”

“The elvish continent,” answered Damon quickly in hopes of getting more time to think and call Stolas.

“Stolas, they caught me, I’m being interrogated—”

“Where in the elvish continent?” Her questions quick, her voice crisp, and her tone empty but also filled with reproach, anger, and disgust.

Damon remembered Stolas’s words and answered “Lazare”

No pain came. “See, if you do not lie it won’t hurt,” said the woman. “Now tell me who is your leader?”

Before answering Damon quickly sent another message to Stolas, “I’m in an underground dungeon, no means of using magic.” And then he answered the woman, “It’s another Dark elf called Gilgamesh.”

“And what is he looking for here?”

“Just to accumulate wealth,” answered Damon.

“Now tell me what your sect was called back on the elvish continent.”

“The shadow sect, but in the elvish tongue.”

The questioning persisted for another hour. The same questions often came back, looped around, and did one eighties. Damon tried his best to keep his answers consistent by giving the most barebones answers and finally when the lady had gotten enough from him a strong blow to the head let Damon sink back into obscurity.

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#

“Damon, Damon, wake up.” The voice of an owl resounded in Damon’s mind and his eyes fluttered open.

“Where are you?” asked Damon reflexively.

“You really got yourself in a tricky situation, but don’t worry they won’t kill you.”

“Well fuck, ain’t that great, but I don’t like having a rock spear jabbed in my flank everyday. Where are you? Aren’t you my guardian spirit or something. No, aren’t you my parent in this world? So why aren’t you coming to save me.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t,” said Stolas in a regretful tone. “You were simply too confident and eager. Just because you can fly and humans can’t doesn’t mean they can’t bring you down. Even dragons acknowledge this.”

Angered by the response Damon started to whirl about. The chains wrung about and their echos spread through the spherical cell. “My ass you can’t save me. Don’t you have an army and a few dozen black mages. Although this is a fortified town it’s small enough to be taken in a day.”

“At what cost? Damon, don’t forget you are part of a sect, getting captured, interrogated, and beaten. It is all for the sect.”

“The sect? No, you mean for you,” yelled Damon mentally.

“But also, you, since as you said yourself. You are my son.”

 Damon fell silent for a second, his movements stopped, however, the sounds of chains clattering persisted. “Then what will I get after this?”

“Well, we will see what the royalty has in terms of items, however, I do not think it will be half bad, even compared to what you could find on the elvish continent. Plus, aren’t you always learning new things, like methods of interrogation. And won’t this be useful later on. Experience is valueless after all.”

“My ass, so when will you actually get me o—”

In the corner of his eyes Damon saw an earth column—

Damon’s head jerked back, and he lost consciousness once again.

#

Tennito’s POV

“Where is he?” yelled Tennito at his messenger. “Where is that black mage. It’s been a whole two days since he’s been gone, and the enemy doesn’t seem to be affected in anyway.”

The young man whose feet shivered in his boots answered as best he could “I’m sorry my Lord, I haven’t—”

“No, I want him here now!”

The entrance to the tent opened and a knight spoke, “There is someone who wishes—”

Tennito slammed the table with his fist and new splinters joined the old. “Turn them back and find me that fucking elf. I don’t care about anyone else.”

“This… person seems to be involved with that person,” answered the knight who seemed a bit more accustomed to Tennito’s easily foul mood.

“Then bring them in right this instant.”

A young boy around the age of fifteen entered the tent. He wore normal commoner clothes; however, he had a somewhat determined aura.

“What is your relationship with Damon?” asked Tennito.

“I am a part of his sect.”

Tennito’s brow furrowed. This couldn’t be good news.

“Damon ke Stolas has been captured by the enemy before he managed to carry out his plans.”

Tennito stood silently behind his desk before punching the table in half. “Fuck! Now of all time, when that high collared prick Grevaldi is about to reinforce the fort.” Tennito turned to the boy. “You better not tell me to go rescue the fucker.”

“No,” answered the boy.

Tennito didn’t know how to respond. “Fucking hell, it doesn’t matter I’ll have to take it anyhow. If we get pushed back now, we’ll forever have to wait for the two dukes to finish off their opponents and we’d lose all the negotiating power. Is there no way to save that elf? Do you not have other agents who can poison the enemies? At this rate I’ll lose a fifth of my men.”

The boy simply shook his head.

Tennito looked down onto his broken table. If he retreated the duke would have his life for putting a few hundred lives before the duchy’s prosperity, however, he couldn’t bare letting men die needlessly.

He would retreat.

#

Regena Civili’s POV

“What we’re retreating?” said Regena to the messenger who came to relay Tennito’s orders. “I understand he cares for the men, and we all appreciate that, however, there are limits. If we follow his orders, we’ll be killed in Carling. Bring me to Tennito now,” yelled Regena.

The messenger who didn’t want to be strung about in the middle of the conflict brought Regena to Tennito’s camp and quickly ran away.

She pushed the cloth away and entered the tent. “What is your plan? There are limits cousin.”

Tennito who was picking at the wood chips in his hands looked up to the woman who had barged into his tent. “No, if we assault the fort Gervaldi will come and reinforce them. We will be chased and hunted back to Carling. If we retreat now, we can at least halt their advance and wait for reinforcements.”

“But nothing will be left of use. And if Grevaldi is close enough to be able to intercept the assault, shouldn’t we not attack him. If we meet him on advantageous grounds and defeat him the reinforced city will have no choice but to open the gates.”

Tennito did not speak but simply looked into his cousin’s eyes. After having picked out another splinter he spoke slowly, “if we win. I will be honest, although I believe in my capabilities, Grevaldi has learnt the art of war on the Continent. He has taken part in more than seven campaigns and has men of higher quality. We cannot win.”

Regena’s eyes flared up. “If you believe that then even if we had taken the fortification well before Grevaldi’s arrival we would have lost.”

“No, there was a way, however, it is now lost. If we do not leave now Grevaldi’s men will be able to slow us down enough for the main army to catch up and crush us when tired, frightened, and with low moral.”

Regena didn’t know how to answer; however, something told her Tennito’s plan, and his own expectation had already been defeated. She had to think of a plan to save the campaign.

            

 

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