Mother of Midnight

Chapter 251 – Recon

Caelum had proven to be a quick study, something Brannet commented on frequently, usually with a dramatic sigh and a teasing jab about “how unfair it was for the handsome ones to also have brains.”

Under the dusk endomancer’s tutelage, Caelum had begun to tap into abilities that once lay dormant. Brannet was more energetic than he was methodical, but his instincts were sharp and his teaching unorthodox but effective. He taught through pressure, through challenge, and through relentless commentary until Caelum either got it right, or got frustrated enough to start yelling incantations properly just to shut him up.

Dusk endomancy, like all endomantic schools, was sprawling and diverse. It offered more than just stealth, it was the art of moving through the world unseen and untouched, manipulating perception as well as sensation. With Brannet’s help, Caelum learned an augment that allowed his body to enter a resting state while remaining fully alert. It wasn’t true sleep, not entirely, but for someone like Caelum, whose stamina had been bolstered by divine blessing, it was close enough. With it, he could sit through long watches without his mind dulling or his limbs stiffening.

He also began to notice that the cold no longer bit at him as it used to. The northern winds still howled, but they merely brushed his skin instead of sinking into his bones. Whether that was thanks to the residual dusk magic curling around him, or Heraline’s earlier blessing, he wasn’t sure. Maybe both. Either way, it was welcome.

Through trial and error, and Brannet gleefully tossing rocks at him whenever his focus waned, Caelum had mastered several minor enchantments useful for remaining unseen. One cloaked the sound of his footsteps, another dulled his scent, and a third cast a flickering after-image of himself: a wavering shadow that moved just slightly ahead or behind him, mimicking his motions out of sync.

That one, in particular, had been surprisingly effective.

His sparring match with Hana was proof enough of that. She’d lunged in for a takedown only to grab at nothing as his after-image danced a step ahead of him. The moment of hesitation had cost her the bout. She’d taken it poorly, growling, cursing, and muttering something about “damned cheat magic,” while Caelum stood, panting and victorious, trying to suppress a smile.

He still had a long way to go before he could call himself a dusk endomancer, but he was learning. Fast.

“Sooooo,” Brannet began, sliding into step beside Caelum with the casual swagger of someone trying very hard to appear unbothered. “We should be arriving in Drakthar tomorrow evening. You ready?”

His voice was light, almost teasing, but Caelum didn’t miss the way his shoulders were set just a little too tight, or how his hand hovered near his belt, fingers brushing the edge of one of his throwing knives. Brannet might have been all jokes and charm on the surface, but Caelum was learning how to read the layers beneath. Every one of these people, these assassins, was more than they seemed.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Caelum said, chewing on a ration bar. Honestly? It wasn’t half bad. The bars the Sovereignty gave out were barely more than chalk and salt. This one? Real texture. A faint nutty sweetness. Almost pleasant.

He gave a thoughtful grunt and swallowed. “These actually taste like food. You people are spoiled.”

“Ha! Finally, someone appreciates the luxuries of clanland cuisine.” Brannet threw his arms dramatically in the air, spinning in a slow, exaggerated circle before settling down beside Caelum again. “But seriously. Once we cross into Drakthar proper, things are going to get… well. Messy. Real fast.”

His usual levity faltered for just a second.

“We can count on you, yeah?”

Caelum turned to him, meeting his eyes. “I swear it. I’ll make sure everyone makes it out alive. I swear it upon my goddesses.”

Brannet blinked. His brows lifted in surprise, and then he laughed, a sharp, bright sound, not mocking but… maybe impressed.

“Wasn’t expecting you to take it that

seriously,” he said, nudging Caelum’s arm with his elbow. “But that would be like you, huh? All solemn oaths and puppy-dog eyes.”“I don’t have puppy-dog eyes.”

“Debatable,” Brannet said with a grin that was far too smug for Caelum’s liking.

Caelum rolled his eyes, but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re adorable. Which is worse, really.”

“Go get sleep,” Caelum said, giving him a light nudge. “You need it more than I do.”

“Yeah, well, you probably should too. You’ve been up since the last watch.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Brannet let out a low, amused chuckle and stretched his arms above his head in an exaggerated yawn. “If you die because you were too stubborn to sleep, I’m going to haunt you.”

“I’ll add that to the growing list of threats I’ve received this week.”

With a final grin, Brannet turned and made his way toward his little tent on the edge of the clearing, tossing a lazy wave over his shoulder as he went. Caelum’s gaze, despite his better judgment, lingered.

That man had a fantastic ass.

Caelum exhaled slowly through his nose, shaking his head at himself.

“Focus,” he muttered under his breath, dragging his attention back to the fire. “You’ve got a war to fight, not a crush to nurse.”

But even as he settled in for another stretch of quiet watch, the image of Brannet’s smirking face, and the sway of those hips, remained stubbornly etched in his mind.

The group crouched low on a rocky outcrop overlooking the northeast edge of the watchwall, eyes scanning for movement. The cold wind stung their cheeks, but no one complained. Below them, nestled in a wide basin of smog and stone, loomed the city of Drakthar.

They’d found a gap. A flaw in the perimeter of the mighty wall. One of the few places the towers didn’t have full line-of-sight coverage, likely due to a structural oversight or a guard rotation error. Whatever the reason, it was a gift.

And Drakthar was finally in sight.

Derk rose slightly, just enough for the others to see him. His face was all business.

“Alright, team,” he began, voice just above a whisper but commanding all the same. “You know the mission. Disrupt the chain of command. Hit supply lines. Incite chaos. We are the scalpel before the hammer comes down.”

He let that hang a moment before continuing. “There are civilians in the city. Drakthar-born. Most of them aren’t loyal, not really. Lekines are treated like second-class citizens. Goblins? Even worse. That doesn’t mean we drop our guard, but it does mean we show restraint when we can.”

His gaze shifted to Caelum. “Our human friend here tells us goblins got it the worst.”

Caelum nodded, jaw tight. “I saw how they were treated. Less than animals. Beatings for sport. Executions without cause.”

“Then they’re our priority,” said Derk, turning back to the group. “If we can get people out without jeopardizing the mission, we do it. Goblins first. Lekines next. Humans last.”

A few team members nodded grimly. No one argued.

“We don’t have the manpower to escort anyone all the way out, but we can supply them with what we can take from Aegis. Get them through the breach. Give them a chance.”

He pointed to the small hill they were crouched on. “Valaire. Wren. You two scout ahead and get us a map of the inner city. Prioritize supply depots, barracks, comm points. We need locations.”

Wren gave a two-fingered salute and Valaire nodded.

“Chary, Aloshia, you’re shadowing officers. Anyone who walks like they give orders, I want their name, their routine, what they eat and when. I want to know who they sleep with, what their fears are, and if they limp when they walk too fast.”

Chary grinned like a wolf. “Yes, sir.”

“Lunas,” Derk continued, turning to the quietest member of their squad, “you’re on reserve until we have better intel. When we capture our first few officers, it’ll be your turn.”

Lunas nodded silently, expression unreadable.

Derk’s eyes swept across the group one last time, measuring resolve. “The rest of you, we’re establishing a temporary base once Wren and Valaire return. We work fast, move light, and strike harder. There’s no backup coming if we screw up.”

He paused.

“Any questions?”

No one spoke. The silence said enough.

Wren and Valaire worked with a speed and precision that only came from years of experience, and maybe a little madness. Within two days, they returned with more than just rough sketches or simple notations. They brought a full tactical map of Drakthar, drawn in almost excruciating detail, down to alleyway choke points, overlapping patrol routes, and which buildings looked abandoned but showed signs of being repurposed by the occupying force.

Spread across a table in their temporary hideout, the map was a thing of deadly beauty.

“Every known supply depot is marked,” Valaire said, tapping several spots circled in red ink. “These ones,” he pointed at three blue-ringed buildings, “are barracks. Lightly guarded during the day. Heavy presence at night. Command likes to switch patterns every few days, but we’ve mapped enough overlap to guess their rhythm.”

Wren added, with a toothy grin, “And these black dots? Points where the infrastructure’s weak. Crumbling stonework. Broken valves. Cut those off, you can shut down whole blocks.”

Derk folded his arms, impressed. “This’ll save lives.”

They also presented three potential bases of operation.

The first was near the edge of the city, nestled inside the rotted-out basement of a long-abandoned home. Ivy crawled up its walls, and the roof sagged in places. “It hasn’t seen life in years,” Wren noted. “Good for laying low, not so great if we’re spotted. One entrance, and it’s a tight squeeze.”

The second option was far more central, underneath an active smithy in the craftsman’s district. The forge itself roared day and night, drowning out sound. Beneath it, a hidden door in the basement floor led to an older room sealed off long ago, likely used during the last rebellion. “More space, better cover,” said Valaire. “But if the blacksmith is loyal to Aegis, or gets curious, we’re cooked.”

Then there was the third.

The clanhall.

Derk whistled low when they said it aloud. “You’re serious?”

Wren nodded, her grin fading. “Serious as death. The hall’s old, bigger than it needs to be, and half of it was built on top of even older foundations. Hidden passages, crawlspaces, chambers no one’s touched in years. Maybe decades.”

“And how exactly did you figure that out?” Caelum asked, glancing at Valaire.

He just smiled faintly. “Trade secret.”

“Trade secret?” Brannet echoed. “You climbed into the bones of the beast and walked back out, is what you mean.”

Caelum shivered slightly. The clanhall was a tempting option. Right under their noses. Risky, but powerful. The heart of the enemy.

“We’ll vote,” said Derk. “Not now, but soon. We’ll need to weigh risk against access. But good work. Both of you.”

Everyone leaned in closer to the map, the war they were planning now sharpened into something real.

Caelum studied it in silence, fingers tracing along the hidden hallways of the clanhall. He didn’t say it out loud, but something about hiding right beneath the High Priest’s nose… it felt right. Dangerous, but right.

They waited another few days, tense but focused, before Aloshia finally returned under the cover of nightfall. Her arrival was quiet, but her presence filled the room with a subtle gravity. She brushed off her travel cloak, her expression grim and her steps swift as she approached the central table, where the map still lay spread open beneath a dozen coded markers and etched notes.

“They have twenty-two priests stationed throughout the city,” she began without ceremony, voice calm but tight. “One bishop. From what I could gather, the bishop is staying behind, overseeing Drakthar directly while a High Priest leads the army pushing toward Serkoth.”

A murmur passed through the group.

Aloshia didn’t stop. “The occupying force is sitting around nine hundred troops, maybe a little less, maybe a little more. It’s hard to say for certain, but the structure is consistent with other cities I’ve seen. There’s a high captain for every five captains, putting us at four high captains and eighteen captains we’ve identified so far. Plenty of lieutenants and junior officers underneath them.”

She moved to the map and laid out a few new parchment scraps, sliding them into place with practiced ease. “Patrol routes. Five rotating shifts. Lightest coverage occurs here, ” she pointed to a residential district on the northeast end, “, between second and third bell.”

Then she dropped another stack of scribbled notes onto the table. “These are the known movements of our priority targets. The bishop rarely leaves the cathedral, but sends out rotating priest teams for propaganda, surveillance, and 'cleansing.' A few of them might be vulnerable. I’ve marked the ones that travel alone.”

Wren gave a low whistle. “You’ve been busy.”

“I had help,” said Aloshia. “Chary stayed behind. She’s tailing the high-value targets more closely. We arranged a contact point, just north of the old aqueduct. I’ll be meeting her there at sundown tomorrow. So if there’s any orders, I need to carry them in by then.”

Derk, who had been leaning against the doorway, finally stood straight. “Good work, Aloshia. We’ve been waiting on your report before taking the next step.”

He stepped forward and tapped the map with a blunt claw. “We’re voting tonight. On the base. Three candidates, and we don’t have time to linger.”

He looked at each of them in turn, Caelum, Brannet, Wren, Hana, Sunder, and the others. “This is the last calm we’re going to get. After this, it’s blood and ash.”

Brannet nudged Caelum with his elbow and whispered, “I always love when he talks like that. Really sets the mood, don’t you think?”