Raen didn’t hate Lucien. And for a good while, he believed Lucien didn’t hate him either. In his past life, they were merely on opposing sides. Had the circumstances differed, Raen would have gladly worked with him.

  He even felt a flicker of admiration for the man, as well as his brother.

  But he was wary of him.

  Lucien was not a person to be taken lightly. Not even this young version of him.

  The meeting took place mere moments after the two armies had arrived.

  Arandil went forward with his aides and the regiment commanders, while Lucien and the commander-in-chief went together.

  On paper, the Imperials had the overwhelming advantage – six against two.

  In practice, meaningless.

  When the two were Lucien and his uncle, Garreth Balor, commander-in-chief of the Azurand army, there was no advantage. The two were equal to dozens of lesser tacticians. And their six included Arandil.

  They didn’t stand a chance.

  Minutes crawled by, feeling like hours to everyone around Raen.

  One could hear yelling coming from the tent, most of it coming from their ‘beloved’ Army Commander.

  His voice carried from the tent, shrill and demanding.

  “Unacceptable, completely unacceptable!”

  “Such lies in my presence!”

  “Do you truly think I will believe such words?!”

  “It is true, Your Highness,” Lucien’s calm voice – soft as a dagger – carried over to them. “The men who attacked your battalion camp were truly not ours. We were faced with a similar predicament. a third party is trying to profit from our battle.”

  “That is why we are proposing this truce.” Garreth’s voice echoed outside, both calm and commanding. “So that both sides may weed out those who are trying to attack us.”

  “As if!” Arandil shouted, his voice cracking.

  “You were beaten in your own game! Forced to retreat with tails tucked between your legs! And now you want to ask for a truce!”

  He paused, as if trying to find the words, or perhaps be told by others.

  “You are merely trying to stall for time!”

  A couple of people nearby placed their hands on their foreheads, in complete shock and embarrassment.

  This was the man who was supposed to lead the army.

  Did he only know how to speak by yelling at others? Or was it simply royal arrogance?

  Raen knew that in Arandil’s mind, everyone not born in the royal family was beneath him – that meant everyone here, including his commanders.

  ‘If there was one person in my past life I regretted never being able to kill, it was him. No doubt about it.’

  As the yelling continued, Raen analyzed the situation.

  This truce had never happened in his previous timeline because there had been no need for it. In the past, Azurand had successfully decimated the battalion camp and forced a full retreat, leading to a disaster for the Empire.

  Now, things were different.

  Their plan was foiled, and they would no longer be able to move forward like they wished to.

  Raen had saved Adam and even kept Kaelen whole, which further complicated the situation.

  But, he couldn't understand the Kingdom’s request for a truce. He knew it was a trap, however, as the Kingdom would never do things in a way that didn’t benefit them.

  They were most likely acting weak now to manipulate an incompetent commander.

  He thought of what he could do, but realized there was nothing. Even if he could, why should he try to?

  He was one lieutenant in an army of thousands, serving an Empire he had no love for.

  “Give us three days, Your Highness. That is our request.” Lucien said.

  “Listen here goldy, you can take that request and –“

  “We will burn your supply lines otherwise.” Garreth’s cold voice cut Arandil off.

  Even some of the men around Raen felt chills.

  “W-what?”

  “How – how dare you threaten me, you bastard!” Arandil’s voice echoed, now louder than ever.

  Raen frowned, wondering why they were able to hear everything so clearly.

  Usually, a protective spell would be cast on the tent, preventing sound from leaking. He suspected an amplification spell had been cast deliberately to allow the conversation to be heard by all.

  “I heard there is one very special thing that is supposed to be transported via your supply line.” Lucien’s voice was no longer soft. It was now sharp like a blade. “It would be a shame for it not to arrive.”

  “Y-y-you!”

  ‘What was in that transport, to make Arandil sound so afraid all of a sudden?’ Raen’s mind raced to find an answer.

  Soon, he frowned. ‘Don’t tell me he was smuggling in contraband for himself?’

  Raen realized that he was most likely correct.

  That was why Azurand placed an amplification spell on the tent, so the Imperial army could hear how their commander was going to make a fool of himself because of some goods he was smuggling.

  Nobody came to the tent to warn Arandil; he had given orders to not be disturbed during the meeting under any circumstances.

  And the commanders present had no problem letting him make a fool of himself. At least the soldiers would be well aware that they were left to fend for themselves.

  Soon, the meeting ended, with Arandil switching to a more calm and polite tone and agreeing with the truce.

  Arandil walked out boastful, a wide smile etched on his face, as if he had just won a great battle.

  The men looked at him like he was a peacock. Not only did he get manipulated by the enemy, but he was also threatened and buckled right away.

  As he arrived near the army, the aide on his left made a loud proclamation.

  “Thanks to the valiant efforts of our lord commander, three days of truce have been negotiated. You may finally rest well, soldiers!”

  “Hahahahaha! Eric, did you see how polite and submissive those two were to me?” Arandil shouted to the aide on his right, full of bravado, his voice akin to the annoying chirps of a Mockingbird.

  “A famous commander and general, my ass! When faced with someone of my noble lineage, the only thing they could do was beg for mercy!”

  Arandil’s boasts and incessant laughter reverberated around the area; there was no doubt in Raen’s mind that both Lucien and Garreth could hear him.

  They would just ignore it.

  Raen could only imagine the sneers and glances they were giving to one another. Perhaps they would even pity the imperial army, who were given such a commander.

  Arandil’s voice suddenly cut off.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  As Raen glanced at him, he could see why. He was glaring at Kaelen, displeasure written across his face.

  The Emperor did not proclaim to everyone that Kaelen was his bastard son. But his family, as well as the other nobles of the Empire, were definitely in the know. Including Arandil.

  His aide, Eric, then whispered something in his ear. Arandil glanced at Raen before sneering and moving alone

  ‘Dammit!’ Raen shouted curses at Eric inwardly. ‘He must’ve mentioned that I was the one who uncovered the spy network.’

  Anderson, Tarris, as well as Kaelen were all upright men who would not lie and abolish facts to make them seem more competent, unlike Arandil. They sent a report, duly noting everything that happened just the way it happened.

  Luckily, as a mere lieutenant, Raen was not in the sights of the royal pain in the ass. He would never bother glancing at a commoner, no matter what the commoner might have done.

  He has most likely already manipulated the events that happened, making it seem that it was thanks to him that Azurand’s plot had failed.

  “I will bring you up to speed on what happened during the meeting later.” The other aide told Kaelen and the others while passing.

  “No need, we heard it all,” Kaelen stated in a calm manner, causing all six people to stop, frozen in place.

  “You … what?”

  “There was no protective spell over the tent,” Kaelen said. “We heard it all. So no need to bring us up to speed.”

  The aide’s face reddened.

  “How dare you listen to a negotiation – a military secret?!”

  “How dare you not run down to alert His Majesty?!”

  “He said that we are not to disturb the meeting under any circumstances,” Kaelen stated, staring back at the aide without batting an eyelid.

  “You – how dare you – you –“

  “Enough, move along.” Arandil suddenly cut the aide off, his voice cold. His eyes had narrowed, staring at the aide with hostility.

  The man was confused. But also scared.

  He quickly did Arandil’s bidding.

  Even though Kaelen was a bastard, he was still of noble blood. Arandil’s own ego could not allow a mere aide of his to talk in such a manner to his bastard brother, no matter whether he hated him or not.

  He was allowed to hate him. To speak of him in any way. But others – others were not allowed to do so. They were not royals. They were beneath them.

  As Arandil re-joined the army, a formal order was given to go back to camp.

  The army would have it easy for three days. But after those three days passed, Raen had no doubt that hell would crash down on them.

  “When we arrive back, come see me. I have a task for you.” Kaelen whispered to Raen during their journey.

  He could only nod in agreement to Kaelen. His mind was still filled with possible events that would transpire thanks to the ‘truce’ and the solutions that could be implemented.

  That did not stop even when they finally reached camp, and Raen absentmindedly made way to Kaelen’s tent.

  “Huh?” Raen asked Kaelen, confused at his order.

  “Were you not listening?”

  “No, sir, I was,” Raen quickly said, staring into Kaelen’s eyes. “I just don’t understand it.”

  “What exactly do you not understand, Lieutenant?”

  “Why do you want me to talk to the spy?”

  “You were the one who saw through them,” Kaelen said, leaning back into his chair. “And thanks to the fact we managed to get absolutely nothing from him – even after days of torture and investigation – I want you to have a go at him. Try to see if you can get anything useful out of him.”

  “But –“

  “No buts. Just try it, for heaven’s sake.” Kaelen said, throwing a badge at Raen.

  It was warm from Kaelen’s hand, the silver new, unblemished. Raen’s thumb traced the engraving: First Battalion: Commander Vale.

  He was in a foul mood. He clearly understood what was going on as well.

  “Yes, sir,” Raen said with a sigh, leaving the tent, clutching the official badge Kaelen had given him.

  That little thing gave him access to most places in the camp as it signified the battalion commander’s direct authority.

  In all honesty, Raen was not at all unhappy to have been given this task. On the contrary, this was perfect for him.

  He needed to find out more about the cult and what they were doing at this time. And this would be the perfect time to do so.

  The cult was not supposed to appear until several years later, masked as heretics who worshipped new gods. Only later would they be revealed for what they were.

  Soon, Raen reached the cell where the cultist was being interrogated.

  The ‘cell’ was just a storage pit dug into the hard soil, covered by a heavy tarp. The air was thick with earth and blood. Some were old, some new.

  ”Battalion Commander’s order,” Raen showed the badge to the guards. “I do not wish to be disturbed while inside.” The two quickly saluted as he went inside the cell.

  The spy was chained to a post in the very center, only wearing a rag around his waist. His body was bloodied and bruised. There were so many bruises over his body that one would at first confuse his body color to be purple.

  His face was bruised as well. Part of his ear was gone. His nose was split. And he was missing a couple of fingernails, as well as two fingers.

  “I’d like to say it’s nice to see you again, but it’s not really,” Raen said as he stood in front of the spy, one of the three scouts that they dealt with back in the scout regiment’s tent.

  “You.” The spy recognized him instantly, his eyes sharp, unbroken.

  “Yes, me,” Raen said, a smile widening on his face.

  “Have they been treating you well here?”

  “Screw you.” The man said, his voice laced with malice.

  He couldn’t chant to blow himself up like others; the Wizard made sure of that, blocking him from using any powers.

  “Come on now. Just play nice, and you won’t be tortured. That’s easy, right?”

  Raen extended his left hand before smiling and using his right index finger to tap and make lines on his arm.

  Three short lines. Two taps. One longer line, vertical. Three quick taps.

  The spy’s eyes widened instantly. His jaw dropped as he stared at Raen with disbelief and shock.

  The hidden communication methods at this time were slightly inferior to the ones in the future, but Raen still remembered it.

  “H-how-“

  Raen interrupted his words with a stern glance, prompting him to shut up immediately.

  Thanks to the fact that he was tied, he couldn’t answer in the same way, but that was no issue.

  The cult had a special way of communicating in this kind of situation as well.

  He blinked.

  Some blinks were slow, some fast. Some came with a pause, some without.

  This was them establishing contact. Now their true conversation could start.

  “Cmon man, give me something. At least tell me that you are with the Kingdom of Azurand. That’s not hard to admit, right?”

  Raen’s hands moved as he talked, using the secret symbols to communicate with the spy.

  *How long have you been in this mission? Who approved it?*

  “I have no idea what you are talking about, you imperial scum!”

  *The mission has been going on for 5 months. Who are you? What ‘horn’ do you serve?*

  *And how dare you uncover our mission!*

  “Ccc, you really aren’t going to make it easy for me, huh?”

  *Why was I not notified of this?*

  *I told that fool Marak that I was doing my own mission here. Did he not tell you a thing?*

  “Like I told the others, go to hell.”

  *Who the hell is Marak? What are you talking about?*

  The spy’s eyes narrowed, staring at Raen with confusion. Raen then sighed in an overexaggerated manner.

  “Listen here. You have all either been eliminated or captured. There is no coming out of this predicament.”

  *You were sent here, where I have been stationed for a year, and you don’t even know the name of your ‘horn’?*

  *I’m going to kill that bastard when I’m done with this.*

  The spy’s eyes widened upon realizing what Raen was saying. He started trembling slightly, staring at him with fear in his eyes.

  Of course he was.

  All members of the cult were like that, trained to highly respect those above them. To fear and worship them.

  He would never know the name of his ‘horn’ – the man leading the branch in this region.

  That was good. Raen didn’t know his name either.

  But he didn’t know that, and that was all Raen needed.

  Lower-ranked cultists – such as the Initiates, the Regulars above them, and the Acolytes – would never know the names of the leaders of their branch of the cult.

  The ‘Horn of Ashanmon’ was one of the main branches of the cult. It was led by three ‘horns’, their six hands, and then the Acolytes, Regulars, and Initiates below them.

  *What is your rank?* Raen signaled the cultist, who trembled and answered.

  *Initiate.*

  Raen placed a palm over his face and said nothing for a short time before staring back at the cultist.

  “If this is how you’re going to play, then you leave me no choice.”

  “Major Vares has been more helpful, so all of you will die anyway. It doesn’t matter what happens before that.”

  *Play along for now.*

  The cultist nodded his head in panic before Raen stood up and grabbed one of the many interrogation tools on the desk behind him.

  Pliers.

  Perfect.

  “Lies, he would never!” The cultist roared in shock, causing even the guards outside to open the door for a moment.

  “Umm, sir, is –“

  “I told you that I did not wish to be interrupted, soldier.” Raen hissed at the guard, who quickly apologized and closed the door.

  “He has already sold you all out. He’s drinking wine and feasting on meat as you all rot in your cells.”

  “Give me something, and I will make sure you are taken care of properly.”

  The pliers grabbed hold of one of his fingernails.

  “We have already learned that you were working with Azurand. But you were lying to them.”

  “W-what?” The spy asked, his voice shaking.

  “What was the next part of your cult’s plan? Say it.”

  “I – I-“

  The spy’s sentence was cut short as Raen pulled the pliers back, taking the nail from the finger. The man screamed in agony.

  The scream was a bit too loud, so Raen motioned for him to lower his voice. Even an Initiate of the cult was well-trained, his body and mind conditioned to not break under torture.

  *They already know that info, you can say it.* Raen signed, and the spy nodded.

  “We were going to act as if we had died. Disappear for a good while. The massacre would help us collect the souls of the dead, the grieving spirits, making us stronger.”

  *Are there more of you in the other regiments?*

  “Is that all, no grand plan?”

  *Yes, there are, amongst the Azurand Kingdom as well.*

  “Yes.”

  *None have been notified about my existence here?*

  *Nobody knows, my lord. We were never notified.*

  “Good, see how easy that was?” Raen said, a smile present on his lips.

  “Now, let us continue.”

  Raen continued the interrogation for some 20 minutes after that, learning more about the cult’s activities. Some were spoken out loud, some were told to him via the signs, hidden from the guards.

  He had to admit, the cult’s activities were another variable he had expected, but not right now, not this early. They shouldn’t have crossed his path for several years, not right now.

  “Treat his injuries; he is more cooperative now. We should reply in kind,” Raen told the guards, who saluted quickly.

  He left the area, his mind buzzing with thoughts.

  The spy had believed him. Of course, he would – the signs, the manner of speaking Raen used, it all led him to believe he was one of them.

  He believed that Raen was someone equal in rank to the three ‘horns’ who led his branch.

  He wasn’t exactly wrong.

  Raen had learned those signs in the past, when he had become an Initiate himself. He refined them later, once he’d risen to the upper echelons – made them more subtle, more complex.

  Harder to crack.

  He’d done all of that, and more.

  His hand tightened on Kaelen’s badge, the engraving pressing into his palm.

  Here he was, interrogating a cultist to learn their plans, pretending to be one of their leaders. Acting like he was separate from them.

  But he wasn’t really acting.

  In another life – one he’d lived, but not yet – he would not only be one of them.

  He would stand at the pinnacle of their hierarchy.

  He would command the cultists spread across the continent. Legions of them. He would speak to the Demon Lords themselves.

  The man he would become shook the continent and held a title that made kingdoms tremble.

  The Twenty-First Pope of the Demonic Cult.

  That was who he’d been when he died.

  That was who he was trying not to become again.