Achilles’ hand gripped the hilt of his knife which dug into the wood of the table. The startled soldier across from him gulped, but Achilles released his grip on the knife, taking a deep breath to compose himself.
“And just how did a squad of Dueglestein’s highly trained soldiers get taken down by a band of children?” Achilles calmly asked.
The soldier seemed to gulp again, sweat beading on his forehead.
“Uh…luck, I guess?”
“No,” his voice darkened, as he stood from his seat, surveying the map. He continued his calm charade, staring at the lands of Dueglestein as he began to calculate what the fugitives might plan next.
“We do not have the numbers,” Achilles continued, and pointed to the small town they had been spotted in. “I want you to double the patrols throughout the smaller towns. The children will most likely stay away from the bigger cities.” The soldier nodded, muttering a “Yes, sir.” to Achilles. But he wasn’t done yet.
“And corporal?”
“Yes, sir?”
Achilles thought over the possibility of success for these kids. They had already traveled through three different countries, always out of reach. But that was with Boromir and the other, smaller, leaders in charge. Meanwhile, Achilles had been busy staying in the capital, planning with her.
She may have assisted the failure, Boromir, in spirit, but he had never truly met her. But Achilles had.
She was indeed the greatest witch Achilles had ever seen.
As Achilles stared at the map, his eyes drifted to the Attalaitan Mountains. The fugitives had been spotted at the base of three of them, closest to the northeastern border. Interesting.
“I want you to make sure that they don’t get over those mountains,” Achilles pointed to the three in question, staring the nervous soldier right in the eyes, boring into his soul with a stare so intense many would tremble at the sight of it.
“Yes, sir.” the soldier saluted, then turned to leave the room.
As the soldier left the room, Achilles turned, pushing a single stone on the cold wall behind his desk. He felt the magic within it, a residual hum that emanated from the wall.
“Open,” he commanded the door, as the stones moved aside, grinding as they went. The magical door opened to reveal a long, dark, corridor.
He lifted a torch out of its place on the wall to his left, the dim light illuminating the hall as he stepped into the secret passage.
“Close,” Achilles muttered back at the door, listening to the grinding stones and the close of the door before he continued through the corridor, his footsteps echoing through the quiet hall.
As he reached the end, he pushed open a wooden door, the sounds of a man screaming filling the room.
“Sir,” one of the doctors ran up to Achilles, “The operation is commencing as we speak.”
“How is he taking the treatment?” was his calm answer.
The doctor’s eyes flicked to the floor, their expression unsure. “Not too well, sir. He’s in a lot of pain, and every attempt we make to add more of the treatment fails. But if we prescribed him some painkillers-”
“No,” Achilles held up a hand for them to stop. “He asked for the treatment. Now he is facing the consequences.”
Their expression turned fearful as Achilles rested a hand on the sword at his side. “After the treatment has ended, I want to see him and assign his first mission.”
“But, sir,” they continued, “With this kind of operation I’d suggest for him to take a few weeks at least to rest. Taking him out in the field immediately after the operation can cause-”
“Doctor, are you questioning my authority?” Achilles gave them a stare, their eyes filled with fear.
“N-no, sir. I will continue with the operation as you like.”
“Very good,” Achilles smiled, turning away from them. “We wouldn’t want another accident to occur from those kids.”
His smile grew as he heard another wretched scream come from the operation room...
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