Chapter 47 : A dance on dice

Arthur pivoted to the side, feeling the rush of air as the sword sliced past his ear. He darted in close—where a long blade was more of a hindrance than an advantage. 

His opponent reacted fast, bringing an elbow down to crush him. 

Arthur had already expected that. 

'Earthstep.' 

The ground beneath his feet softened just enough to let him glide to the right, dodging the blow effortlessly. His left hand clamped onto his opponent's right shoulder, using the momentum to swing himself around. 

In a flash, he was behind him. 

Arthur struck with a single, precise punch to the man's back. As soon as his fist made contact, four arcs of fire erupted from his knuckles, carving through flesh like butter. His opponent crumpled instantly. 

Arthur stepped back, admiring his work. 'Not bad. Not bad at all'. The world around him flickered and dissolved. 

The simulation ended. 

Arthur climbed out of the virtual reality pod, stretching his limbs as he adjusted to the real world once more. Across from him, Officer Reftia sat watching a screen that had been displaying his fight just moments ago. 

"Pretty good," he remarked, shaking off the post-simulation stiffness. 

Reftia nodded. "It is. Your control over fire and earth is improving nicely." 

Arthur grinned. "Why is this only reserved for Officers? It'd be so much better if we could use this for sparring—less risk of injuries." 

Reftia snorted. "Army doesn't supply enough of them, so they're kept for upper management. Besides, you've got regeneration now—since when do you care about injuries?" 

Arthur's grin widened. "I was talking about everyone else. I can't just keep handing out my blood, can I?" 

Reftia's expression didn't change. "Speaking of that—give me more." 

"Huh?" 

"Your blood. Used the last vials on a mission. Pretty useful, actually." 

Arthur recoiled slightly. "Since when was I a walking apothecary? Spend some money on potions, you cheapskate." 

He shivered as her dark eyes locked onto him. 'It seems she still doesn't know what boundaries are.' 

She rolled her eyes. "So dramatic. Come on, we've got guard duty again." 

Arthur sighed. When Officer Reftia had first offered him this position a few days ago, he'd been excited at the prospect of overhearing important information—maybe even finding a way to smuggle intel to General Thanason in Fort Lanai. 

But no. 

The meetings were all surface-level, filled with vague strategies and bureaucratic nonsense. If anything truly important was being discussed, it wasn't where he could hear it. 

Still, he masked his disappointment, carrying out his duty silently and efficiently. 

He followed Reftia toward the third floor, where most of the previous meetings had taken place. But before they reached their usual spot, she placed a firm hand on his shoulder. 

"Not today. This one's in a different location." 

Arthur blinked. A different location? 

"Uh… okay?" He followed without question, though his mind raced. 'Maybe they finally trust me?' He had long hoped that his association with Reftia had earned him points in the resistance's eyes. And maybe, it finally has. 

They ascended past the third floor. Then the fourth. The fifth. Then the sixth. 

Then the seventh. 

Arthur hadn't even known there was a seventh floor. The upper levels were strictly reserved for high command, far beyond his usual patrol routes. 

Reftia led him into a large meeting room. A massive touchscreen table took center stage, surrounded by twelve seated men. At the head of the table, a single man stood patiently, waiting for the meeting to begin. 

"Arthur, you stand inside. I'll guard the door," Reftia instructed. 

She withdrew a spear from her storage ring—a sleek black weapon with a thin, elongated blade. 

"Here. A present for you." 

Arthur barely had time to respond before the door shut behind him, leaving him alone with the senior resistance leaders. 

He adjusted his grip on the spear, deciding he would marvel at it later, and stepped to the side of the room, standing at attention. 

Most of the men seated at the table were old, grizzled soldiers—veterans of past wars who had once fought with the Thoracen Empire. 

But two of them immediately caught his attention. 

One was young. Far too young to be sitting among men who had spent decades in battle. He had messy blonde hair, sharp features, and bright brown eyes that practically hummed with an easy charisma. He lounged in his chair as if he belonged, despite the tension in the room. 

'Who the hell is he?' Arthur wondered. If someone that young was here, he was either incredibly talented… or incredibly well-connected. 

The second was the man at the head of the table. 

Older, but not elderly. Straw-colored hair tied into a low ponytail. Deep orange eyes that held unmistakable power. 

Arthur didn't need an introduction to know this man was in charge. 

The leader gave everyone a moment to settle before speaking. 

"Good. Let's begin. The agenda today is to discuss the rebellion's next steps." His voice was steady and commanding. "For now, we need to reduce our offensive efforts and drag this war out a little longer." 

A murmur spread through the room. 

"Reduce our offensive?" one man barked. "I disagree, Lord Leon. After our defeat at Valley Forge with General Raleigh, we need to strike back. If we show hesitation, we'll look weak." 

Leon nodded, as if he had expected this response. "I understand your concern, but no. Raleigh's loss was… unexpected, to say the least. However, if we push forward recklessly, we risk losing more than just territory—we lose leverage." 

Arthur listened intently, committing every word to memory. 

"We received intel that General Thanason of the Gravewalker Dukedom had been preparing an offensive for some time. Raleigh's strategy was to force the Empire to commit Thanason early, then eliminate him, shifting the war's momentum in our favor. However, Thanason was killed at Fort Lanai and Raleigh's plan had already failed at that moment. That means we didn't gain the base at valley forge when Thanason died, so now the Empire now has a clear opening to push their full force against us. 

"So, I say we bide our time. We withdraw. We regroup." 

Silence followed his words. 

Then, another voice cut through. "You're playing it too safe, Leon. If we go on the defensive now, we'll be obliterated. The Empire will build momentum, especially now that they're using Thanason's death for propaganda." 

Leon exhaled. "Speaking of propaganda… William, how's recruitment?" 

Arthur's head snapped toward the young man who had been lounging in his chair. 'William?' 

His thoughts raced. 'William… William of Orange?' No. It couldn't be.' 

But… the resemblance was striking. Young. Handsome. Charismatic. And if the rumors of William of Orange's poor background were true, he'd be the perfect symbol for the rebellion. 

Arthur suppressed a shiver. 'If this is him, then I'm in a very, very advantageous position. I need to find a way to relay this to General Thanason.' 

William of Orange leaned forward, his easy smile never fading. "Recruitment is going as well as expected," he said smoothly. "But morale took a hit after General Raleigh's defeat." 

Leon sighed. "I expected as much. Go to the major cities. Make public appearances. I'll have someone draft your speeches—maybe stage an event where you save someone's life." 

Arthur observed the exchange carefully. 

William nodded. "Yes, sir." 

But as Leon turned his attention away, dismissing him entirely, Arthur noticed the way William's jaw clenched. 

'So… he's a puppet.' Arthur's mind spun with possibilities. 

Leon's POV 

Leon sighed, his orange eyes sweeping over the table. "Any other ideas on strategy?" 

Silence. 

One by one, the so-called leaders of the rebellion avoided his gaze. A bunch of experienced soldiers, yes—but in moments like these, utterly useless. 

His patience thinned. 

Then, unexpectedly— 

"Yes." 

A young voice. 

Leon's gaze snapped toward the source. 

One of the guards. 

The boy was young, dark-haired, and gripping a long black spear with both hands. He looked tense, uncertain—clearly aware of the weight of the room. 

"Uh… well, I have an idea, sir," the boy repeated, his voice steady despite the slight quiver. 

Leon studied him, debating. Punishing him for speaking out of turn would be easy. It was the right thing to do. 'But why not let him speak, see if he has brains to match his audacity.' 

If he didn't… well, then Leon would deal with him. 

"Speak up, boy," he commanded. His voice dropped, slow and dangerous. "For your own well-being." 

The boy gulped but stepped forward. "Wouldn't—well, you could do a War of Posts." 

Leon raised an eyebrow. "Go on." 

"It's a series of small, hit-and-run encounters, meant to drag the war out and incur steady losses on the enemy," Arthur explained. "It works best when the defending force knows the terrain. We do. We've fought here—we can use that to our advantage." 

Leon leaned forward slightly, intrigued. 

"By securing small victories," Arthur continued, "we can deal consistent—if not overwhelming—damage to the Empire while keeping our own losses minimal. It would chip away at their morale, make the war costly for them. That's what you're aiming for, right? To weaken them, force them into an unwinnable situation?" 

Leon rubbed his chin. 

It's a good plan. 

They could market each small victory as proof of resistance. Keep morale high. And when the time came, they'd either force the Empire to acknowledge them… or use those victories as a springboard for an all-out offensive. 

Either way, the Thoracen Empire would be forced to recognize them as something more than scattered rebels. 

A slow smile formed on Leon's lips. 

"What's your name, boy?" 

"A-Arthur, sir." 

'Ahhh. It's you. That's...interesting.' 

Leon nodded. "It's a good plan, Arthur." 

The boy exhaled sharply. "T-Thank you, sir." 

Arthur's POV 

Arthur stepped back into his position by the door, heart still racing. 

It had been a gamble. A huge gamble. 

But it had worked. 

He needed a way to gain trust—real trust. That was the only way to increase his chances of learning more information. The only way to find a path to relay what he already knew. 

But at what cost? 

'How many lives have I just gambled on this?' 

The plan wasn't some half-baked bluff. It was viable, it had to be for the plan to work. It meant Arthur had staked a lot of lives on this gamble. 'How many have I just killed for this?' He mused to himself sadly. 

"Opportunity lies at the feet of power." 

His father had once told him that. Or—well, his father in this world, anyway. 

But Arthur had another mantra to himself. One that he repeated again. 'Never again will I act on emotion. My goal comes first.' Though, that didn't stop the slight tremble he felt when he knew, one day. 

He'd watch the consequences of his actions. 

After the Meeting 

As the resistance leaders filtered out of the room, Arthur felt a presence at his side. 

William of Orange. 

The young man shot him a grin, clapping a hand lightly on his shoulder as he passed. "Good work," he murmured. 

Arthur blinked, watching him go. 

'That guy just oozes charisma.' 

Leon was the last to leave. 

He stopped beside Arthur, looking him over. "What are you assigned to, boy?" 

"Guard duty, mostly," Arthur answered. "Or administration with Lieutenant Frost." 

Leon's nose wrinkled at the mention of Frost. 

Arthur liked him immediately. 

'Anyone who hates Frost can't be that bad.' 

Leon didn't comment further. Instead, he simply nodded. "Tomorrow, report to me." 

Arthur straightened. "Yes, sir." 

With that, Leon strode away, disappearing down the hall. 

Arthur let out a slow breath. 

'All going good so far.'