Chapter 272: The Assassin’s Way

The first night in the fortress had passed, and the group now faced a grim reality. They would have to infiltrate Bartholomew’s stronghold, a fortress rooted deep in the heart of the first Safe Zone, guarded by a force far larger, better trained, and far more organized than anything they had.

The so-called army of Haven barely reached eighty people, while Bastion held close to four hundred within its walls. Not all were soldiers, but that hardly mattered. Bastion had years’ worth of stored healing potions, access to healers, and the kind of preparation only time and resources could buy. If they were built for anything, it was to withstand invasions. Especially after Marshall. The group knew what loomed ahead wasn’t just dangerous, it bordered on suicidal.

Rather than push the discussion further, they agreed to end it there and get some sleep. Rest was vital after the battles they had endured, and the fortress still had to be defended from Bartholomew’s inevitable scouts.

Luke chose a small, private room over the luxurious chambers upstairs. He didn’t want space, he wanted control. The smaller the quarters, the easier it was to notice if someone tried to sneak in. No one had touched the ornate noble suites; they stayed empty, gathering dust. Luke’s room had a bunk bed. He took the top while Jack slept below.

Morning came, and Luke wandered the fortress halls, his mind restless. Thoughts spun around the riddle, the next step, and the problems stacked against them.

The clearest solution was to strengthen what they already had: repair, rebuild, expand. If they could draw more survivors here, they’d have numbers, support from the common people. That could be their chance to sway part of Bartholomew’s military to their side. And the truth of the mechanism would give weight to their words.

“Defending is easier than attacking,” Luke muttered as he paced near the walls of the second fortress.

It was true, but their situation left them at a disadvantage. They didn’t have the manpower to defend properly, let alone launch an attack.

“Feels like having a fortress is harder than not having one,” he murmured to himself.

Passing by, he saw soldiers hauling lumber, others weaving nets for river fishing. From the towers above, archers scanned the treeline, ever watchful. But what was the point of activating the second mechanism if they couldn’t reach the third? He made his way back toward the fortress. Another meeting would soon take place, this time to decide how to tell everyone about the obstacle standing in their path.

That was when he saw her. A woman stood at the gates, fiery red hair catching the light, a bow strapped across her back. Cecilia. Her eyes locked with his, and Luke braced himself for hostility. Instead, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.

“Cecilia?” His voice carried surprise.

She had been one of the first to help him when he arrived at the Haven. But after the chaos in the ant nest, after Jonathan accused Luke of killing Angelica, he hadn’t spoken to her since.

Cecilia pulled back, her hands moving swiftly in the silent language: ‘Thank you’.

She touched her ring, drew something from her storage, an old sheet of paper. With a fingertip glowing faintly with magic, she began to write. Luke’s throat tightened. He wasn’t sure he wanted to read what she had to say. She turned the paper toward him: “You saved me that day. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you in return”.

Relief washed over him. Then her hand glowed again, the words fading from the page as if they had never been there. She began to write once more: “I’m sorry I couldn’t defend you when they accused you. I was unconscious. But afterward, I told everyone you were a good person”.

“Don’t worry about it,” Luke said softly. “I’m just glad nothing worse happened to you. When I made it back to the Haven, I tried to see how you were doing, but… things happened.”

She reached for his hand. In her expression there was no judgment, no suspicion. No hostility. Cecilia leaned back over the page, her fingertip glowing as words shimmered into being: “I never believed you killed Angelica the way Jonathan claimed. But no one would listen to me”.

Luke felt a weight he hadn’t realized he was carrying begin to ease.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “For believing me.”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Her hand moved again, the letters forming clear and steady: “Let’s get out of this place together. For everyone who died that day”.

Cecilia’s lips curved into a faint smile. It wasn’t the kind of look he usually got from survivors of the Haven. For the first time in a long while, knowing that someone from that part of his past still trusted him brought him a relief deeper than he’d expected.

***

By midday, the group gathered once more in the mechanism chamber. The heavy door was shut behind them. Around the table sat Luke, Allison, Evangeline, Mason, and Jack.

“So,” Mason began, eyes fixed on the map spread across the table, “how exactly do we tell everyone that we’ll have to go to war against Bartholomew?”

The map of Bastion was more detailed now, refined with input from Jack and Mason, both of whom had lived there, layered with the notes from their own scouting around the fortress.

“W-why am I even here?” Jack asked nervously.

“You’re useful, short stuff,” Evangeline shot back. “You know those corridors almost as well as I do. And since you heard the riddle with us, you’re in until we decide how this gets shared.”