Chapter 183

Chapter 183: Chapter 183

By the time they returned to Avalan, the city had expanded a little more.

Caedos had already decided, it was best to strike while the iron was hot. After all, no one living knew exactly how Morkoth’s army had been defeated, it would be their loss not to capitalize on the momentum Ibaeron’s collapse had given them.

By the very next day, he had a rescue party to the third city South of Flaeris. The two opposing factions of Fiends were on either side of the Red Plains, even their homes were clearly divided.

The city of Lyvenor was equally walled but with a Hellhound’s proficiency in climbing trees, they scaled up the wall with ease. After getting into the city the first time, returning would be a simple matter of warping in directly.

It didn’t take long to track down a stable, and before the city guard could realize that outsiders had snuck in, the stable was already in flames, the Hellhounds long gone.

Grand Duke Dazark blanched when the report was made to him a few hours later. A stable had gone up in flames, the guards and caretakers burned along with the building.

Survivors from Ibaeron had spread far and wide, so naturally, the story of their city’s downfall did the same as well. And it had begun with stables going up in flames.

Dazark frowned, hastily sending out messengers to the other Grand Dukes. Even as Grand Dukes in the same faction, they hardly got along, it was why a meeting had yet to be called although they were all privy to the collapse of a Wrath faction city.

Dazark however could no longer sit on the fence, not when danger was knocking on the gates to his city.

The messengers returned hastily, Grand Duke Razzith’s response arriving first. The Fiend’s slothful attitude was obvious even in his manner of writing but Dazark had no time to pay attention to that, far too occupied by the contents of the letter.

Razzith claimed that he had already made a peace agreement with the Hellhounds, and had no further interest in involving himself in the matter.

The Grand Duke’s response was damning. If Velmorn had hastily offered a green branch to the Hellhounds, it meant they weren’t a foe to be taken lightly.

The responses from the other two cities should have been less surprising but it didn’t ease Grand Duke Dazark’s worries. Their responses essentially stated that if he couldn’t defend his city from mere stray dogs then Lyvenor deserved to be wiped out.

Dazark locked himself in his study, deep in thought; the Hellhounds had already made the first move. Now his options were either to go to war or to make a peace agreement.

After learning from Grand Duke Razzith that the freedom of captive Hellhounds was the Demons’ goal, he invited the manor lords who controlled the largest stables in Lyvenor to his castle for a discussion.

The discussion ended in an outrage, the proud manor lords cold to the idea of a peace treaty.

Dazark felt his back grow closer and closer to the wall, gathering as much information as he could. Only a single stable had been struck, a small dilapidated, stable, so there was still time to plan.

His army wasn’t as impressive as Grand Duke Morkoth’s so perhaps an ambush would be more beneficial. But the Hellhounds were truly a camp of survivors, all rallying around a single Royal Hellhound.

More reassured now, Dazark sent out messages to the manor lords. While he himself had a handful of Hellhound mounts, he didn’t care for it much. The manor lords were more than happy to provide soldiers for the ambush, specifically selecting Fiends who were familiar with the terrain of the Deep Woods.

While quiet preparations were being made, Dazark tightened security at the walls, not expecting another attack for at least a while. So by the end of the second day, when he watched black smoke rise to the red skies from several points in the city, his jaw tightened.

In two days, almost all the stables in the lower city had all been emptied out of Hounds. The smoke caused a panic in the city, it looked like they had been attacked.

Having come to this point, the only other option was to orchestrate an attack. The Hellhounds didn’t attack openly, instead, they moved stealthily, and before guards could be mobilized to retaliate, they were long gone, the flames the only remnant of their presence.

So not waiting for a third attack, Grand Duke Dazark sent off an army to the Deep Woods to attack the Hellhounds. The main task was to kill the last Royal Hellhound; it wasn’t until his return that Hellhounds began to revolt, so it was simply wise to target the head of the revolution.

A handful of manor lords had even accompanied the regiment of soldiers, eager to protect their interests. The captivity of Hellhounds was incredibly lucrative, a revolution was bad for business.

Grand Duke Dazark watched them set out on the morning of the third day, he had left the majority of his army in Lyvenor, unable to shake off the unease that had settled over him in layers since the first stable was set aflame.

Dazark waited for the report of the attack, his shoulder tense, expression grim. He waited till the five suns dimmed, night falling.

One hundred thousand abled soldiers, not including the men and mercenaries provided by the manor lords, and not a single one had yet to return.

By sunrise, the next day, Dazark could no longer sit still. He sent a spy to gather information on the battle. Could it be such a ferocious battle, both side in a deadlock, that even after a full day and night, a report hadn’t been delivered to him?

By afternoon on the fourth day, Dazark was beginning to grow pale. Ever since the first stable went up in flames, he hadn’t gotten a proper night’s rest. All the spies sent to the Deep Woods were swallowed up by the forest, not even a single one had returned.