Chapter 96 Damien’s fury
The table shook, showing a crack as Damien's hands landed on it.
“What the actual hell?” He screamed, facing his commandants. “How could we have let this happen?”
He asked again, the veins in his head threatening to split out.
“It was a fair game, your Majesty. They sneaked up on us.”
Damien glowered at the Commandant who had just spoken. “You think all this is a game? We lost! We freaking lost!”
His hand landed on the table again, splitting it into two.
Everyone looked away, afraid of his wrath. “And what? We're supposed to go about our day, reeling from this loss?”
His question was met with absolute silence.
“Who was in charge?” He asked again, breathing heavily. His buttons were undone, his next-to-always arranged hair scattered, his eyes puffy.
Hands pointed at a small man standing in the middle.
The man closed his eyes, probably saying his last prayer. Damien looked like he could kill.
“How did it all go wrong? Our Intel was perfect, logistics arranged to the very letter.”
The man swallowed fearfully before dropping to his knees. “I'm sorry, Your Majesty. This is all my fault. I should have made sure the mercenaries had good information.”
Damien held his hand up, stopping the man from blabbering. “This makes no sense. They are mercenaries for heaven's sake.”
The small man raised his hand fearfully as if remembering something. “We at least did something right.”
“Tell me Lucien is dead,” Damien muttered even though he knew it was only wishful thinking on his part.
The general nodded bitterly. “Not him in particular. His most trusted guard while King Lucien is heavily injured.”
Damien frowned at the man's mention of Lucien as King, but his anger was overridden by the death of Sam.
He nodded. “Amongst other deaths.” He shook his head unsatisfactorily. “Impressive but not impressive enough.”
The general’s smile was bitter. “I acknowledge my mistakes in all of this, your Majesty.”
Damien paced, his bloodied hand dripping blood as he walked slowly all over the room.
The men stood on one side, shaking in their pants. His silence seemed to be much more ferocious than his anger and they waited to see what their fate would be.
“Get me, Herman.” Damien motioned to the guard standing inside the room.
The other men dropped to their knees. “Have mercy your Majesty.”
Herman was Damien’s personal guard who often carried out Damien’s dirty work.
Damien shook his head, irritated by how much they seemed to value their lives. This was exactly why they hadn't won any battle. The men held their lives in high esteem and were not ready to lose them in battle.
The door opened, interrupting Damien's musings as Herman stepped in.
“Assemble the council. There's important information to be passed across.”
He ignored the surprised expression on the kneeling men's faces as Herman nodded and walked away.
Damien turned to the men. “Leave.” His voice was cold and icy.
The men blubbered, bowing gratefully as they exited his study hurriedly. Damien hissed as the last of them closed the door, leaving him alone.
Now that he was finally alone, he paced the room, his mind working overtime. Losing the battle the second time would be bad PR for them.
He walked up to the mirror as he arranged his hair before buttoning his shirt. It was time to act fast.
Lucien seemed to have the power but not the numbers, which he could use to his advantage.
The walk to the council was slow and concentrated. His mind raced at the next possible plan. It was only a matter of time before the people's trust in him began to wane.
Just as he approached the door of the Council, Damien adjusted his expression, making him look calm and unbothered.
The noisy council immediately became calm as he stepped in, standing by the entrance, surveying the faces of those present.
He looked from face to face, his eyes expressionless, trying to figure out what each of the elders was thinking. When he was done, he began his slow walk to the podium where his seat rested in all its glory.
He let out a soft breath, sitting down before glancing up. “I accept that this is such short notice for a meeting of this magnitude.”
The men nodded, not even a whisper coming out. Damien’s rule of the council was filled with terror and nobody felt at ease voicing their displeasure.
“I'm sure we've heard of the war happening in Thornefield that has left most of our men dead and others incapacitated.
Again, there were grunts of agreement as they waited for him to drop the bomb.
Damien stood up carefully as he stepped down from the podium, walking into their midst.
“It has been confirmed.” He began slowly, choosing his words deliberately. “Since we cannot stop Lucien in the fields and plains, we have no choice but to force his hands.”
The hall became noisy immediately as the men whispered in hushed tones.
“Do I sense displeasure?” Damien frowned as he looked around.
The men shook their heads, looking away as the hall quietened down. “I know what you all are thinking.” He paused, looking from face to face.
“You probably think I intend to use Lady Isabella and his son as bait to draw him out.”
The men looked away, their faces filled with guilt.
Damien shook his head. “Women and children are excluded. I haven't forgotten that.” He said with a small smile as he turned back, walking towards the podium again.
“Rather than make his mate and his son as bait, we are going to draw Lucien from the fields into the city.”
“The City?” Lord Benneth frowned as he spoke, unable to control himself any longer. “The commoners my Lord.”
Damien glared at the older Lord. “Your concerns have been taken into consideration, Lord Benneth.” His voice was restrained.
“But like every war and battle, there will always be casualties. It is only unfortunate that the people affected this time around are the commoners.”
His voice held controlled fury and if Lord Benneth had any sense, he would take the lifeline offered to him by Damien.
Instead, Lord Benneth shook his head in disagreement. “I don't agree with you My Lord.”
His remaining words were drowned by the surprise chatterings of all the other elders in the council.
They were more than surprised that someone was choosing to challenge Damien also at a time more sensitive than this.
Rather than react and give in to the anger in his heart, Damien smiled. “Not surprising, Lord Benneth.”
He picked up the pen in front of him, squeezing it hard. “However I wonder if you would love to lead.” A sly smile spread across his face. “You know, come take the reins and take us into battle.”
Lord Benneth recoiled in his seat. As much as his hatred for Damien grew, he was not about to go into confrontation with him.
“That is not my intention, Your Majesty.” He said the words through gritted teeth as he clenched his arms.
Damien nodded satisfactorily. “I thought as much.” His grip on the pen loosened as he stood up. “From now on, the palace gates will be closed. There would be no entry and no exit. It's time for war.”
And without waiting for the information to be assimilated, he stood up and walked out of the hall.
The noisy hall was hot as the door closed, but Damien ignored their surprise. He had better things to worry about than some cowardly old men.
Herman walked closely by his side. “What's the next step, Your Majesty?” He murmured as they walked.
“War.” He said tightly. “Since we are unable to go to him, we will make him come to us. A king is supposed to have the stiffest of hearts.”
Herman nodded in agreement.
Damien stopped in his tracks, suddenly remembering something, making Herman almost bump into him.
“Is everything alright, Your Majesty?” Herman said with alarm, clutching his sword as he looked around them for any sign of danger.
Damien nodded. “You can go, I'll catch up with you.”
Herman nodded, hesitatingly as he stopped, watching Damien leave for his quarters in a hurry.
Damien sighed, facepalming himself. How could he have almost forgotten? Now that the time frame had been brought forward, it was time to accelerate the ritual.
He tore a paper as he scribbled something on it, whistling as a pigeon stepped forward.
He watched as the pigeon disappeared into the air, before stepping back into his office.
It was almost time. Soon, the ritual would be done and the war would begin.
His gaze travelled to a part of his drawer where a large number of scrolls lay.
He sighed, closing his eyes, as he reminisced over the events of the day. The moment Lucien heard the city was closed, he would come running and that would be the perfect time to strike.