Chapter 352: Make Your Choice

In the darkness, Horace finally saw the first glimpses that he was getting close to August’s position. The Ammary troops looked battered, their appearance filthy with tired looks. Yet even in what looked like their worst moment, they didn’t lose their abilities. Seeing a rider approach, a small force quickly readied their arms and watched.

Horace raised his hands as he came forward and finally entered the light. Flashing a smile at the soldiers, he spoke. "Horace Underwell. Please take me to Duke Flanders." Jumping off his horse, Horace handed over his family’s insignia and patiently waited.

One of the men ran off, and after a few minutes, gave the okay for Horace to enter. Deeper into the camp, he could tell how bad the battle had gone for the Empire. They had gotten used to easy victories, so seeing Ammary men groaning and crying out in pain as their wounds were being treated was rare.

Shaking his head, Horace strode forward and let himself into William’s tent. The old General had a tired look as he sighed and offered a seat. "This is a surprising visit," William said with a slight smirk.

"You don’t need to hold the line anymore," Horace said casually," Marcus will regroup with his Majesty within a day at most. The siege of Tourn will follow shortly after."

"Tourn? Not Malbork." Horace shook his head, making William sigh in relief, "That makes my job easier." Grabbing his head, he smiled, "We will move tomorrow morning." Horace nodded and got up. "If you need any food, just grab some. We have plenty in stock."

"Thank you," Horace said with a genuine smile and walked out of the tent. Walking forward, he picked up two pieces of fruit from a nearby barrel. Eating one as he left the camp, he handed the other to his horse, snatching his hand away before its lips could touch his skin. Saddling up, Horace rode past the camp, into the darkness.

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August awoke to the birds singing outside. His cold eyes glanced around the room, landing on the meal prepared for him. Sitting up, his muscular body was left bare as he dug into the small feast. Once finished, he rang the bell next to his bed, and a servant walked in, grabbing the clothes prepared for him and dressing August.

Checking himself in the small mirror, he brushed off any dust left on them and finally stepped outside. Covering his eyes from the sun, he made his way deeper into the camp and threw open the tent for the war council. Michael was already there with a few of his Templars discussing the map.

"You’re finally up." Michael didn’t look at August and pointed his finger at a few segments of the map.

"When do we march?" August took a seat and leaned back, staring at the map. Michael sighed and nodded.

"We should be able to reach the Ammary force within the day. They came back for their dead, so they can’t have gotten far." August nodded and leaned forward.

"We may be able to use this going forward." August grabbed the carving representing both sides’ forces. "We force another battle. This time we make it short. Later that day, whoever they send over to collect their dead again, we strike. Slowly eat away at their forces. By the time the mercenaries from Chent arrive, we should have the number to face them properly."

Michael didn’t like such an underhanded trick but said nothing, only giving a single cold nod. "We could make it work."

"Good. We can only get away with it once. They will realise what we have done..." The tent flap flew open, and a Commonwealth soldier walked in, bowing towards August.

"Your Grace. One of our scouts has requested your presence. He says it’s something about Malbork." August squinted dangerously and stood up.

"Forgive me." August quickly walked off, leaving Michael and the rest confused. He didn’t know why one of his scouts had knowledge of the battle over there, but it wouldn’t be hard to guess they overheard something from the Ammary camp.

August followed and quickly arrived at his tent once again. The scout stood outside, his head held low, and once August walked past him in, he followed. August took a seat and watched as the scout slowly lifted his helmet off. August reached for the knife by his bed in an instant. If it were some of his men, they would have fallen to their knees before anything.

"Don’t be alarmed, Duke," Horace said cooly. The armour he had scavenged from the battlefield was dirty. "I have come under the Emperor’s orders to relay information."

August didn’t listen to Horacer and leapt forward, slashing at the man. Horace ducked back and grabbed the man’s arm, holding the knife inches away from his body. "It is related to your son." Horace could see August was about to call for his guards and spoke.

It had an effect, the weight behind August attack vanishing. August looked deep into Horace’s eyes and could see the man wasn’t here to kill him. Only then did he finally stop and take a seat again. "Who are you? What have you done with my son?"

Horace pulled out his family’s insignia and passed it to August. Taking a look at it, the old man’s heart sank as he stared at Horace, recognising it immediately. "My son is dead?" The rage in August’s eyes flared up again, but Horace shook his head.

"No. Quite the opposite. He has sworn fealty to the Empire." The chill that came from August’s body was sudden but oppressive.

"He wouldn’t dare. He knows my plans." August replied coldly and tightened his grip on the knife in his hands.

"Your plans changed," Horace replied in a relaxed voice. "After all, Malbork has fallen. The Empire is preparing its siege of Torun." His words were like a bucket of cold water to August. The old duke tried to find any lies in his words, but couldn’t. He took a deep breath and leaned forward.

"This isn’t a lie. Is it?" Horace shook his head, and August sighed. His plans for the Commonwealth for his family evaporated in an instant. He wanted to believe Horace lied. It was a trick of the Empire, but he had a decade of experience dealing with people like Horace. He knew how to read them. He couldn’t ignore the facts before him. "Why did Oskar bend the knee?"

"That’s why I am here." Horace took a deep breath. "He gave me a few conditions. Some he could have, others he couldn’t. One of them requested that you and your brother be allowed to live. Aleksander can. He is a good deterrent against Oskar acting out against the Empire in the future. But unfortunately, Duke, you cannot. Your actions against Snowid for your family prove that you are a liability to keep around. One day, you will turn against the Empire. Maybe not directly, but you will hinder us."

"You are asking me to die?" The tent went silent for a minute with both men staring at one another. The chill coming from both men felt like it could freeze the earth. "Why should I? Why not hold myself up in my lands and wait the Empire out?"

"Because I will wipe out your family. Those whom you do not have in your lands are dead. Oskar, Aleksander. Will you sacrifice your family’s future for your own life, Duke?" The words hit hard for August. He opened his mouth to counter but hesitated, closing it again. Horace smiled, "Your son is willing to sacrifice you for the future of the Laskas. I know you’re a man who cares about your family above all. So all I’m asking you is this," Horace paused and leaned forward. Grabbing August’s hand, he moved it to make him point his knife at himself. "Will you make one final sacrifice for your family?"

August looked down at the knife in his hands. Looking back at Horace, he smirked, "How do I know the Empire won’t end my family after I am dead?"

"Because we need them. Keeping a land under occupation is much easier when the old overlords are in charge. If it makes you feel any better, I also find Oskar interesting. I would much rather be alive than dead." Horace grabbed the helmet he had stolen and put it back on. "I don’t need an answer right now, but if you are still alive after Tourn has fallen, then I accept that as your answer. Clocks ticking, Duke."

August watched as Horace left the tent. Staring at the knife in his hands, his finger curled around the hilt as he weighed up the possibilities in his mind. He needed more information. He trusted his ability to read people, but he needed to know it himself. Stepping out, his two guards stood like statues.

"Send a scout to Malbork. Confirm it has fallen." The guards didn’t hesitate and ran off as August looked up into the sky, deep in thought.