The Hunt Tightens

The flames crackled as another village burned.

Masséna watched from atop his horse, his expression impassive. The orange glow of fire danced across his features, the distant screams of fleeing villagers fading into the night. His men had done their work well.

Still, there was no sign of Armand Roux.

Devereux approached, wiping sweat from his brow. "Another empty settlement, General. No sign of him."

Masséna didn't reply immediately. His grip on the reins tightened, frustration simmering beneath the surface. This was not how he had envisioned the campaign.

He had expected resistance. He had expected guerilla tactics. But he had not expected silence.

Roux was vanishing before his eyes.

Every time his scouts brought back a promising lead, it led to nothing. Every time they thought they had cornered him, he slipped away.

Masséna inhaled sharply, exhaling through his nose. "And the prisoners?"