Chapter LXV

  Fedor stared at the empty space where the necromancer had been, unsure what to think. He turned to the princess and saw the confusion on her face—one that likely mirrored his own.

  But she recovered slightly faster than he did, forcing a smile as she said, "Well, that was certainly a strange experience, wasn’t it?"

  Fedor could only nod in agreement as the princess continued speaking. "What Sorana told me... really wasn’t enough to prepare anyone for that."

  Even though he didn’t know exactly what the dy had said to the princess, he understood her meaning perfectly.

  Just as he was about to ask what Lady GrassStone had revealed about the necromancer, the sound of approaching footsteps made him freeze. He and the princess exchanged tense gnces.

  "Where is Alcar?" a voice asked from outside the tent, making Fedor’s eyes dart to the unconscious body lying on the ground.

  If whoever was outside tried to enter the tent, they were doomed. Fedor had no idea how to get them out of this situation.

  "I don’t know. Maybe he’s still sick from what he ate," another voice replied, amused by whatever they assumed Alcar’s condition to be.

  As the two men talked, Fedor tried to think of a way to deal with them. They were becoming a serious problem. Even if they didn’t enter the tent, their presence alone prevented him and the princess from leaving. If they stayed there until the necromancer created his distraction, everything would fall apart.

  "He never learns to be careful with what he eats," the first voice commented, still entertained by the situation. That relieved Fedor—for, it meant they weren’t suspicious.

  While thinking, Fedor gnced at the princess, who was still holding Alcar’s sword. He, himself was unarmed, and it became clear to him. That, no matter what happened, the princess could not be found armed. That would be impossible to expin in any way that didn’t imply an escape attempt.

  So, he reached out his hand toward the sword, hoping she would understand his intent. Unfortunately, her tense expression showed she didn’t fully trust him. She didn’t turn the sword on him, but she also didn’t hand it over.

  "Should we go look for him before he gets into trouble?" one of the men outside asked. Unfortunately, Fedor couldn’t tell them apart.

  He moved closer to the princess—close enough to be heard but not to seem threatening to the armed noblewoman. In a whisper, he said, "Your Highness, what do you think it will look like if someone sees you armed?"

  "Hey, did you hear that?" one of the men outside suddenly asked, making Fedor’s stomach drop.

  His eyes flicked between the tent’s entrance and the princess. Her expression became stone-like—she had clearly also realized the danger. Worse, the shadow of someone approaching appeared on the tent’s fabric.

  She remained resolute, but she seemed to understand his meaning. Carefully, she grabbed the bde and handed him the sword hilt.

  "Nah, I didn’t hear anything," the other man responded, sounding rexed. "But let’s go. I don’t want to be around when Gravust finds out he’s missing."

  To Fedor’s immense relief, the shadow moved away.

  "We still have time to deliver the new orders," the first man said.

  "Do you really want to go searching for him at the trine? We have time to warn him ter. If you’re so eager, go alone."

  That response was a great relief to both Fedor and the princess. For none was going to go look for Alcar, at least for now.

  So, they listened as the sound of boots faded into the distance.

  "We got lucky this time. But eventually, either the lieutenant or Commander Sampast will notice the tent has no guard," Fedor whispered, still wary of being overheard.

  "I know. But he’s about to act," the princess said, tense but seemingly confident in the necromancer.

  "Yes. Though the nature of his ‘distraction’ worries me," Fedor muttered, suspecting the necromancer was about to unleash undead creatures on the camp. That would certainly serve as a diversion, but... undead...

  "Fire!" the princess suddenly whispered. She turned to Fedor, adding, "From what Sorana said, he’ll use fire for his distraction. He doesn’t like revealing all his abilities."

  Fedor could only assume this meant the necromancer didn’t want to be exposed as one. Though her certainty about the fire was strange, it did make sense. He recalled a battle mage, he had served with. Once said that most mages knew at least one fire spell. If that was true, someone as skilled as Nero could certainly start a few fires.

  As Fedor pondered this, a loud explosion sounded outside. He and the princess exchanged gnces, realizing that the moment had come.

  Then came the shouting—some voices yelling about fire, others crying out that they were under attack.

  Fedor peeked out of the tent and saw thick smoke rising near the camp’s entrance. Though he couldn’t see fmes from this distance, the smoke was unmistakable.

  "It looks like he set fire to the entrance," he told the princess, who remained behind him, unwilling to reveal herself.

  Gncing back at her, with her blonde hair and elegant dress, he briefly considered trying to cover her with something. But that would only make her look more suspicious. The necromancer was right—it was simpler to cim that Fedor was relocating her amid the chaos. Trying to hide her would only raise questions.

  Stepping outside, he felt uneasy—soon, more soldiers would rush to contain the fire. The princess peeked out and stared at the commotion.

  "But why are they talking about an attack?" she wondered aloud.

  As if in answer, another explosion rocked the camp. This time, from the opposite side. The princess’s question was immediately answered as they turned to see an enormous set of fmes growing in a rge ball of fire—clearly conjured by magic.

  Fedor’s blood ran cold. That wasn’t just an ordinary fire spell. That was an artillery-grade spell, the kind used in war. Even he, with all his experience, had never seen one this massive.

  "It’s even more impressive than Sorana’s descriptions," the princess murmured in awe.

  Fedor didn’t know what to say. He simply watched as the necromancer’s attack unfolded. The fmes vanished, but towering columns of fire revealed that multiple things were now burning.

  His tactical instincts kicked in. He could see the necromancer’s pn clearly now—two simultaneous attacks on opposite sides of the camp. This forced everyone to rush in opposite directions, leaving the center unguarded. And amid the chaos, moving the princess would be easily justified.

  Moreover, with the east and west under attack, security in the north would be weaker. Their escape was now possible.

  "Let’s go!" he ordered, and the princess followed without hesitation.

  To make their movement look natural, he pointed north and said, "That way. I’ll follow behind."

  Hopefully, any onlookers would assume he was escorting the princess.

  But they didn’t get far before Fedor had to pull her behind a stack of water barrels.

  The st person he wanted to see had arrived—Commander Sampast.

  "Form up here! It’s a trick!" the commander barked, pointing to the camp’s center.

  "Damn him," the princess muttered as Fedor scanned the surroundings.

  Luckily, no one had noticed them. From their hiding spot, they could see Figor’s forces gathering, including Anteres—who, to Fedor’s relief, had survived the necromancer’s attack at the entrance.

  The commander stood at the front, hand resting on his sword, projecting strength and dignity. But the real danger y in the dagger strapped to his back—a weapon that had ended many who underestimated him in battle.

  "The bastard Savor is ruining everything. Should we go around them?" the princess whispered.

  Fedor was about to agree when Sampast spoke again.

  "Stay together! This is a diversion. Gravust, send two teams of three to investigate."

  That order significantly increased the risk of then being discovered.

  "Let’s move," Fedor whispered.

  But just as the princess began to rise, he yanked her back down.

  Gravust was pointing directly in their direction.

  They were trapped.

  Sweat trickled down Fedor’s spine. They were doomed. Making him look around thinking "Where is that bastard. He said he would be watching."

  As mimicking his thoughts the princess expressed "Isn't he going to do anything?"

  And then, out of nowhere, the necromancer appeared behind Commander Sampast, stealing his dagger and pressing it against the men's throat.