Chapter 26
The Chase of a Lifetime
Chasing people across the country turned out to be a task Ranier had not anticipated would be as challenging.
After departing Bryniard with Keilan and five of his most trusted Iron Claws, he had stopped at several towns to investigate the whereabouts of the fugitive women and the Royal Guard in their company, but none of those proved fruitful.
The initial excitement of leading Heldraine’s most crucial mission had begun to drain from his veins as his targets outwitted him at every turn.
The general despised feeling like a fool, and that was exactly how he felt—like a cat chasing mice.
To the misfortune of the men following his every move, his patience was wearing thin along with the thrill of the chase. At this point, many would say from experience that a restless Iron Claw general could be the most effective trauma-inflicting weapon.
Ranier rubbed the paper in the young woman’s face, her husband paralyzed when the general’s voice reverberated through the cottage living room with a scream bearing all his frustration.
His gaze fell to the couple kneeling at his feet, drowning in their own sobs as they cried for his mercy, swearing that the people from the posters had never set foot in the city of Farin.
His nose scrunched in disgust at the scene.
Had the people of Heldraine always been this pathetic?
How was it possible that, out of all the people they had interrogated, no one could provide any useful information?
Had Ranier lost his ability to detect lies during this journey, or had these girls, raised in isolation, somehow developed the ability to vanish in a world that was not made for them to venture?
Everything since leaving Porjea had been a treacherous blow to his ego.
As the commander of the elite battalion of one of the most powerful realms in the world, he had always been accustomed to success.
Yet there he was, struggling with what should have been a simple task.
Rainier had earned the title of the youngest general in the history of the Iron Claws, but that would mean nothing if the truth hidden in Bryniard were revealed under his watch.
Anyone who had met Ranier would have been surprised to learn that he was capable of doubting his own competence and questioning whether he deserved all he had conquered.
His ego had never allowed him to evolve that capacity until then.
Yet, with every moment he failed to uphold his vow to the Crown, his name and the legacy he had worked so hard to build seemed to crumble.
Without glancing back at the civilians, who were humiliating themselves for their lives, he left the cottage, slamming the door behind him.
His hand instinctively moved to his long beard, running a finger through the dry hair.
The sound of hurried footsteps drew his attention, and his gaze landed on a young man sprinting toward him.
General Uldor had never seen anyone run so haphazardly.
The boy had only been running for seconds, but it seemed to be enough to leave him panting, gasping for breath.
In a heartbeat, his glasses slipped from his face and fell to the ground.
Before he could stop himself, his right foot came down on the lens, shattering it into pieces.
Keilan let out a curse but calmly placed the broken glasses back on his nose, unfazed, even as the cracks made it impossible for him to see clearly.
The general held the bridge of his nose, drawing a deep breath.
Of all the tragedies Ranier had witnessed during his decades of work with the Iron Claws, Keilan becoming an Iron Claw was the worst of them.
Being saddled with the boy as his assistant was, without a doubt, the lowest point of his career—perhaps even his life.
But what choice did he have? Refuse King Luwrel’s personal request to enlist his sister’s grandchild into the Iron Claws?
Reject the demand to keep the boy close, preparing him to be a general someday?
Hell no! Ranier was many things, but he was never foolish enough not to recognize when orders were disguised as polite requests.
“I expect that after that shameful display of athleticism, you’ve come to me with good news,” he said, watching his disaster of an assistant straighten up, as though it could mask the failure he truly was.
The general turned and walked back toward the campsite, forcing the boy to hasten his steps to keep up.
“You are correct, sir.” A proud smile grew on Keilan’s lips.
“Please tell me the people of Bryniard have started to cooperate.”
“Unfortunately not, sir. Our correspondents haven’t reported any progress in the interrogation since we left.
Apparently, since…” Keilan hesitated, wanting to use the word “murder,” but he knew he could never be too cautious with the man walking beside him.
“Since the passing of Dane Weller, the tavern owner, the people have become quite uncooperative. Many have chosen death rather than provide any information about the missing Brynardian women.”
“Interesting. I would not have expected those peasants to have any sense of loyalty whatsoever. Apparently, I have misjudged the number of soldiers I should have dedicated to this effort.”
“We haven’t seen significant improvements from Bryniard, sir. But I have received intel from our spies in Nyfrel that could be valuable to our cause.”
“Go on.” The general spoke with indifference as they reached the campsite.
He wrenched open the large cabin doors and stormed inside. His presence filled the room, and the atmosphere seemed to darken with his arrival, the space now heavy with the authoritarian energy exuding from him.
“Our report says our fugitives were seen departing the city of Nyfrel about fifteen days ago.”
“From your smile earlier, I had expected bigger news, Keilan.”
“That’s not all, sir. They weren’t alone in their exit from the city this time.”
This was the first time Ranier had the decency to look into his assistant’s eyes as he spoke, his eyebrows lifting in sudden interest.
“A woman, supposedly the town’s healer, was seen leaving Nyfrel with the criminals. The townspeople believe she’s been taken hostage.”
“What else do we have on this healer?”
“She was assigned duty in Nyfrel due to an unpaid debt inherited from her father. Witnesses confirm she had been tending to one of the Brynardian women due to a serious injury. Most believe she wouldn’t have willingly aided the criminals unless her life was threatened.
After all, by leaving her post, she would be putting a target on her own back, becoming a traitor of Heldraine herself. ”
“Have you attempted contact with her assigned tax-collection Royal Guard?”
“Yes, sir. Unfortunately, he has been confirmed dead after an anonymous tip about his passing was received in Golheim. His body was found buried with his sword in the woods a couple of days east of Nyfrel.”
“What a coincidence,” Ranier said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He would bet all his riches that the Royal Guard had met the same fate as the twelve men slaughtered in Porjea.
He picked up the map of Heldraine, which lay rolled on the desk in the center of his cabin, and spread it open.
He located Nyfrel, the only possible eastern route leading directly to the capital.
Ranier had never thought they would be bold enough to venture into the most secure and guarded place in Heldraine.
Once again, he had underestimated their ability to remain hidden right under his nose.
“They are heading to Golheim.”
“Yes, according to our predictions, they have already reached the capital by now, sir.”
Ranier’s rough fingers tapped a steady rhythm on the wooden desk as he pondered his next moves.
Whatever actions they decided on from this moment forward could determine the outcome of the entire mission.
He glanced at Keilan, who stood hopeful for instructions, and decided it was time to test the boy who was meant to become his successor.
“If you were the general of the Iron Claws, Keilan, what would you do with that information?”
The boy shifted his weight on his toes, taken aback by the question.
He stuttered for a moment. “I would send word of their whereabouts to our base in Golheim and request a house-to-house search for our criminals or any aid they might have received. I would also call for a thorough investigation into the healer traveling with them, interrogating her family and closest friends to assess her potential for betrayal. The same should be done for the rogue Royal Guard if we haven’t already. ”
The look of surprise on the general’s face gave the boy the confidence to press on, and Keilan squared his shoulders with newfound assurance.
“Additionally, I would increase their bounties. The people of Golheim are more inclined to cooperate when they stand to gain something substantial, whether it’s enough to feed their children for a month or, for the wealthier ones, a chance to expand their wardrobes.
Lastly, I would head there myself. We’ve previously sent reinforcements to Bryniard, leaving our posts in the capital understaffed with those who truly understand our duty to the Crown.
Our presence would be crucial, especially since with our motorized cart, we could reach the capital twice as fast as any of our battalion’s sub-sections, hopefully before our targets leave the city. ”
Ranier’s blue eyes observed the man across from him.
The puffed chest and firm posture made Keilan appear a little less diminutive, even with the shattered glasses perched on his nose.
Despite himself, a malicious smile slowly spread across the general’s lips.
Perhaps there was something to work with after all—a young man who could be shaped into the best, molded in Ranier’s own image of ruthlessness.
“You have your orders then, soldier,” Ranier commanded before the boy rushed outside, yelling orders to put their plan into practice.