The plan to destabilize Duke Halvard's hold over Galdros was in full swing. Niko moved like a shadow across the region, contacting the right individuals to spread the false rebellion. Mercenaries, disgruntled nobles, and restless peasants—all received word that the southern provinces of Galdros were about to rise up in defiance. Every rumor was carefully crafted to make it seem like a genuine movement, and soon the whispers spread like wildfire.
In the heart of Galdros, Duke Halvard sat in his opulent estate, surrounded by his advisors and generals. The Duke was a man of ruthless ambition, and the news that his southern territories might be slipping from his control made his blood boil. For years, he had worked tirelessly to consolidate power, and now, it seemed as if that power was crumbling beneath him.
"What do we know of this so-called rebellion?" Halvard asked, his voice cold and clipped.
One of his advisors, a thin man with sharp features, stepped forward. "My lord, the reports are coming from several key towns in the south. It appears that some of your allies there may have turned. We've heard that they're organizing under the banner of an unknown leader, someone who claims to have the support of the people."
Halvard's fist slammed onto the table, causing the room to fall silent. "Support of the people? The people are nothing without their leaders. Find out who is behind this, and crush them."
Another general, a grizzled veteran of many campaigns, cleared his throat. "My lord, if I may. I suggest caution. It could be a trap."
Halvard shot him a withering look. "Do you think I'm a fool? Of course, it could be a trap. But I will not allow these rumors to fester. If my subjects see me hesitate, they will believe I've lost control."
The Duke rose from his seat, towering over the others. "Prepare my personal guard. I will handle this rebellion myself."
The room was tense, but no one dared to challenge Halvard. He had ruled with an iron fist for too long, and none of his advisors or generals wanted to face his wrath.
Back in Rimuru, Padrino's forces were gathering for what would be the most dangerous part of their mission yet. If Halvard took the bait, they would have a narrow window to strike him down before his forces could retaliate. The false rebellion was a calculated gamble, one that Padrino knew could backfire if anything went wrong.
"We've planted the seeds," Niko reported, his voice confident. "Halvard is taking the bait. He's mobilizing his personal guard as we speak."
Aelin, who was sharpening her blades nearby, gave a nod of approval. "He's arrogant enough to fall for this. But we'll need to be quick. The moment he realizes there's no real rebellion, he'll regroup, and then we'll be facing the full might of Galdros."
Padrino stood at the head of the group, his mind racing with possibilities. "We'll have one shot at this. If we take Halvard down, his generals will be left scrambling. Without their leader, the Galdros forces will be in disarray."
Elda, standing beside him, offered a reassuring smile. "And we'll make sure he never sees it coming."
The group's confidence was tempered by the knowledge of what was at stake. They had come so far, fought so many battles, but this one—this one could change everything. The fall of Duke Halvard would send shockwaves through Galdros and beyond.
Days later, in the southern provinces of Galdros, the false rebellion had reached its peak. Small skirmishes had been staged, towns appeared to be in chaos, and spies fed false information directly to Halvard's inner circle. The Duke, determined to stamp out the supposed uprising, led his forces south with a fury that shook the land.
As his army approached the town of Valcrest—where the heart of the rebellion was said to be—Halvard's personal guard set up camp in the hills overlooking the town. From their vantage point, they could see smoke rising from the outskirts, and the sound of distant fighting echoed through the valley.
"What's the status?" Halvard asked one of his commanders, his eyes fixed on the town below.
The commander bowed his head. "It appears the rebels are holed up in the town center. They've barricaded the streets and are holding off our scouts. But it's only a matter of time before we breach their defenses."
Halvard's lips curled into a cruel smile. "Good. Then we'll crush them all at once."
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Halvard's forces began their assault on Valcrest. The town was small, its defenses hastily constructed, but it put up a fierce resistance. The Duke's men moved in, cutting down anyone who stood in their way.
What Halvard didn't know was that every step he took brought him closer to the trap that Padrino's strike force had carefully laid.
Padrino watched from the treeline as Halvard's forces stormed the town. The "rebellion" was nothing more than a series of staged skirmishes, designed to keep the Duke's attention focused on the town while the real threat—Padrino and his elite strike team—closed in from behind.
"Are we ready?" Padrino asked quietly, his eyes scanning the battlefield.
Aelin nodded, her blades gleaming in the moonlight. "The distraction is working. Halvard is in the middle of the town. His guard is spread thin."
Elda's hands glowed faintly with magic as she prepared her spells. "Once we engage, I'll create a barrier to cut off his retreat. He won't escape."
Niko grinned, his daggers already in hand. "I've been waiting for this moment. Let's make sure he never sees it coming."
With a final nod, Padrino gave the signal. His team moved swiftly through the shadows, cutting through the Duke's outer guards with deadly precision. The element of surprise was theirs, and they intended to make full use of it.
As they neared the town square, Padrino could see Halvard standing atop a pile of rubble, barking orders at his soldiers. The Duke, armored and imposing, looked every bit the warlord he was. But for all his strength, he was blind to the real danger.
The moment had come.
Padrino raised his sword, and with a fierce battle cry, his team launched their attack.