Operation Night Hunter(part3)

The atmosphere inside the command tent was tense and heavy. Empress Elisa II stood at the head of the war table, her gaze sweeping over the assembled forces—Imperial officers, Black Shield Mercenaries, and the Assassin Brotherhood.

There was no trace of levity; every soldier understood the gravity of the situation. Prince Arthuroa had crossed a line.

"We stand at a critical juncture," Elisa began, her voice carrying across the gathering. "Prince Arthuroa's duplicity cannot go unanswered. Prepare for worse outcome."

The room responded with silent nods—the kind born from soldiers ready to act without hesitation.

Meanwhile, in the Francia Magna camp, Prince Arthuroa sat in his lavishly adorned tent, the flickering glow of lanterns casting long shadows. A harried messenger knelt before him.

"Report," Arthuroa demanded.

The messenger swallowed hard. "Your Highness, the Diamond Flower Regiment has been... completely decimated. The few survivors—no one can locate them."

Arthuroa's eyes narrowed. "Was there an unauthorized operation? Did any officer disobey orders?"

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence. Officers exchanged nervous glances, but no one spoke.

His gaze sharpened. "What of Lady Luna Motragane and her command?"

A lieutenant stepped forward, dread plain on his face. "Commander Luna and her officers... have vanished, sire."

Arthuroa clenched his jaw, suppressing his frustration. "Double our defenses," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Have all battalion commanders reinforce their perimeters."

The officers saluted and hurried out.

But as they left, hushed whispers circulated among them:

"The plan to abduct the elf chief's daughter… failed."

"Our forces are disappearing without a trace."

"They say Empress Elisa II wasn't bluffing... she's deadly serious."

Back inside his tent, Arthuroa ran a hand through his hair, thoughts racing. "Damn it... Aslan, what mess have you dragged me into?"

The main command tent buzzed with activity. Maps, notes, and reports littered the massive war table as officers from the Imperial Army, the Black Shield Mercenary Corps, and the Assassin Brotherhood gathered around. Empress Elisa II stood at the center, her gaze calm yet piercing.

She finished penning a letter, sealing it with her royal crest. Turning to a waiting soldier, she handed over the missive.

"Deliver this with haste. No delays." Her voice was sharp, leaving no room for disobedience. The soldier saluted and dashed out of the tent.

Elisa's gaze then shifted to the tactical board. Among various sketches and markers was a pinned photograph of Lady Luna Motragane—a bold red 'X' slashed across it, and beneath it, the word "CAPTURE" was scrawled in thick ink.

Several officers exchanged glances. One of them muttered, "The night assault... remarkably efficient. Their defenses collapsed before they could even muster a proper response."

Another officer added, "We caught them off-guard. Minimal losses on our side. Just as planned."

Empress Elisa II's lips curled into a faint, cold smile. "Wars aren't won by hesitation. Striking when the enemy is vulnerable saves countless lives—ours and theirs."

Standing beside her, Appolo and Vergil remained silent but vigilant. Appolo's arms were crossed, his eyes scanning the room. Vergil, as always, seemed calm—his gaze distant yet focused.

Elisa stepped forward, addressing the room. "Prince Arthuroa has broken the ceasefire. His forces attempted to abduct the daughter of the elf village chief, violating the very terms we established."

Whispers spread through the gathered officers, expressions darkening with anger.

"Was it truly Prince Arthuroa's order?" one officer questioned.

Elisa's gaze hardened. "Possibly. Or..." she paused, letting the weight of her words sink in, "one of his commanders acted of their own accord. Regardless, accountability falls on Arthuroa."

Another officer leaned forward. "Your Majesty, what is our next course of action?"

Without hesitation, Elisa declared, "We launch a joint military operation. Not merely as retribution—but to force Prince Arthuroa into compliance with our demands."

Vergil, arms at his sides, asked calmly, "And those demands?"

Elisa's gaze locked with his. "The immediate execution of every commanding officer involved in this treachery."

A tense silence blanketed the tent. The gravity of her words was undeniable—she was demanding blood as payment for betrayal.

Appolo broke the silence, pulling a small vial from his belt pouch. "And if he complies," he said, holding the vial aloft, "I have the medicine his forces desperately seek."

Elisa nodded. "A choice of life or death. Let's see how noble Prince Arthuroa truly is."

Her gaze swept over the assembly. "We march to the Francia Magna camp. The Assassin Brotherhood and Black Shield Mercenaries will accompany me. Be ready." 

The night air hung heavy with tension as the combined forces of the Britalienne Empire, the Black Shield Mercenary Corps, and the Assassin Brotherhood advanced toward the Francia Magna camp. The clinking of armor and synchronized footsteps echoed through the darkness, their torches flickering like a river of fire.

At the vanguard, Empress Elisa II rode gracefully beside Appolo and Vergil. Her gaze remained unwavering on the path ahead. Behind them, the Imperial banner fluttered with authority, signaling the gravity of this diplomatic confrontation.

The Assassin Brotherhood, having arrived earlier, remained positioned around the Francia Magna camp—silent sentinels in the shadows, prepared to strike should negotiations falter.

Upon arrival, Prince Arthuroa awaited them at the entrance, surrounded by his personal guards and senior officers. His face was a mask of calm, but the stiffness in his posture betrayed underlying tension.

"Empress Elisa II," Prince Arthuroa greeted, offering a courteous nod. "I assume this visit pertains to the recent... unfortunate events."

Elisa's gaze was cold. "Unfortunate? Your forces violated a crucial treaty by abducting the daughter of the Elf Village Chief." Her voice cut through the air like a blade.

Arthuroa's jaw tightened. "I have been informed of the incident. Rest assured, I will personally investigate who authorized such reckless orders." His gaze shifted toward his assembled officers, some of whom visibly paled.

Elisa stepped closer, her cloak billowing. "You have one day." The weight of her words pressed down on everyone present. "Fail to deliver those responsible, and I will unleash the full might of my forces. There will be no mercy."

Arthuroa's composure faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered. "Understood. I shall begin the investigation immediately."

Standing beside Elisa, Vergil spoke, his tone deceptively calm. "If necessary, the Empress and I will personally oversee the execution of every officer under your command." His gaze, sharp and unforgiving, sent a chill through the Francia Magna ranks.

Prince Arthuroa clenched his fists but forced a measured breath. "That... will not be necessary. I will handle this."

Empress Elisa's eyes narrowed. "I suggest you move swiftly, Prince Arthuroa. Time is not on your side." Her voice lowered. "Nor is my patience."

At that moment, Appolo stepped forward, holding up a small vial filled with a swirling purple liquid. The faint glow from the substance cast an eerie hue across his face.

Arthuroa's eyes immediately locked onto the vial, recognition flashing across his expression. "That's the antidote..." His voice trailed off, conflicted.

"Yes," Appolo confirmed. "The one you desperately need. But everything comes at a price."

Tension rippled through the Francia Magna officers. Without further hesitation, Arthuroa turned to his guards. "Bring them."

Moments later, several soldiers dragged a line of Francia Magna officers toward the gathering. Fear etched across their faces, many dropping to their knees.

"Please, Your Highness!" one officer begged, "We were following orders—don't do this!"

Another cried out, "We had no choice! Mercy, I beg you!"

Prince Arthuroa's expression hardened, regret mingling with determination. "You endangered the kingdom's honor. There are consequences."

Elisa, Appolo, and Vergil followed Arthuroa to the makeshift execution grounds, the air thick with dread. Assassin Brotherhood members lined the perimeter, weapons drawn but motionless, watching.

The pleading grew louder, but no one spoke on their behalf. This was the price of betrayal.

Arthuroa raised a hand, halting the noise. "For violating direct orders and jeopardizing diplomatic relations... you are sentenced to death."

The chilling silence of the night was broken only by the desperate cries of the assembled officers awaiting judgment. Torches flickered, casting ominous shadows across their faces, highlighting the terror in their eyes.

Standing at the forefront, Prince Arthuroa surveyed the gathered men with a gaze cold as steel. Empress Elisa II, flanked by Appolo and Vergil, remained impassive, her expression a mask of regal authority.

Suddenly, a voice cracked through the tension—youthful, trembling.

"Please, Your Highness!" cried a young officer, barely in his twenties, dropping to his knees. Tears streamed down his face as he looked up at Prince Arthuroa. "I—I was following orders! It wasn't my decision... The senior officers planned everything!"

The crowd stirred, eyes shifting toward the accused. Arthuroa's gaze sharpened. "Speak clearly. Who?"

Hands shaking, the young officer pointed toward a group of five senior officers, all standing rigid but pale. Their attempt at composure faltered under the prince's icy stare.

"They... they said the Crown Prince's illness was the perfect excuse to justify an invasion of the Britalienne Empire," the young man confessed. "I—I had no choice but to comply!"

A tense hush fell over the gathering. Arthuroa's jaw clenched. Betrayal, festering within his own ranks.

He turned to his guards. "Release him."

The young officer's bonds were cut, and he collapsed to the ground, gasping in relief.

Arthuroa's gaze darkened as he faced the five senior officers. "Is this true?" His voice was like a blade—sharp, unforgiving.

None spoke. Their silence was answer enough.

"Cowards," Arthuroa spat. "You would risk the lives of thousands for your ambition?"

The senior officers fell to their knees. "Please, Your Highness! Mercy—"

"Enough." Arthuroa's voice was ice. "Guards. Execution. Now."

Steel rang out. The condemned officers screamed and begged as they were dragged to the chopping block. The executioner's axe gleamed under the moonlight, its blade freshly sharpened.

THUD.One head rolled.THUD.Another.The air was thick with the stench of blood and terror.

Vergil watched impassively, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Beside him, Appolo remained stone-faced, while Empress Elisa II's gaze never wavered. This was the price of betrayal.

As the last head hit the ground, Prince Arthuroa turned back toward Empress Elisa II. His uniform was speckled with blood, yet his voice remained steady.

"Does this satisfy your demand for justice, Empress?"

Elisa's eyes narrowed. "Justice? No. But it's a start."

A tense pause. Then she added, "Will Francia Magna withdraw?"

Arthuroa nodded curtly. "We begin withdrawal at dawn. Any Francia Magna forces that refuse my command... are yours to deal with as you see fit."

Vergil's gaze flicked to Arthuroa. "You're giving us permission to cut down your own men?"

"Yes," Arthuroa replied without hesitation. "Those who defy orders are traitors. Treat them as such."

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air. There would be no more tolerance for insubordination—on either side.

Appolo reached into his cloak, withdrawing a small vial containing a luminous purple elixir—the coveted Elf Remedy. Without a word, he extended it toward Prince Arthuroa.

Arthuroa accepted the vial, holding it up to the moonlight, where the potion's glow reflected in his sharp eyes. "This... will save her," he murmured, the weight of his decisions bearing down on his shoulders.

Lowering the vial, Arthuroa turned to his assembled officers, his voice carrying a commanding authority that left no room for doubt.

"Pack up. Every soldier, every tent. We return to Francia Magna at once. No exceptions." His gaze swept across the officers, pausing to let the weight of his next words sink in. "Any commander who disobeys will be branded a traitor. The Britalienne Empire has full right to eliminate them without mercy."

Messengers rushed to carry the order across the sprawling camp. Word spread like wildfire. Relief swept through many soldiers—especially among those who dreaded facing the combined might of the Britalienne Empire, the Black Shield Mercenary Company, and the infamous Assassin Brotherhood. One pervading thought echoed among the ranks: "Better retreat than die for someone else's ambition."

With the withdrawal confirmed, Empress Elisa II led the combined forces back to Grisvell Town. Her face remained composed, yet the tension in her posture revealed the exhaustion and gravity of the political maneuvering.

Vergil, walking beside her, spoke calmly. "You handled the negotiation well. A clean retreat is more valuable than unnecessary bloodshed."

Elisa gave a curt nod. "I didn't do it for them. I did it to prevent war from spreading to the civilians. Francia Magna will think twice before betraying another treaty."

As the first rays of dawn pierced the Grisvell sky, members of the Assassin Brotherhood resumed their duties. Hidden from sight yet vigilant, they monitored the retreating forces for any sign of deception.

Vergil's voice crackled through the communication device. "This is Vergil. All Assassin member report."

"North perimeter clear. No signs of lingering forces," a voice responded.

"Western route confirms full withdrawal. No resistance," another chimed in.

Vergil's eyes scanned the empty plains where the Francia Magna encampment once stood. "Visual confirms complete retreat. No hostiles remain."

Tapping the device again, he added, "Prince Arthuroa has departed with the Elf Remedy in his possession. Objective achieved. Returning to base."

Far on the horizon, the banners of Francia Magna faded into the morning mist. With the conflict resolved—at least for now—the members of the Assassin Brotherhood melted back into the shadows, ever watchful for new threats that might arise.