Chapter 62: Into the Powder VaultThe guard above leaned over the wooden railing, holding the yellow lantern steady. The beam of light hung over Draven’s head like an executioner’s axe.Draven did not blink. He kept his body pressed flat against the freezing mountain, his muscles locked in place. Beneath him, Marcus held his breath, his hand resting on the grip of his silenced pistol.A sudden gust of icy wind howled through the mountain, rattling the wooden boards of the lookout tower above."It’s just the wind, you idiot," the second guard grumbled. "Come back inside. The captain is serving hot broth in the dining."The guard with the lantern spat into the dark abyss. The spit fell past Draven’s shoulder, splashing on the rocks far below."Fine," the first guard said. "If anyone wants to climb a frozen cliff in the dark, they can go ahead."The yellow light shifted away. The steps retreated back inside, followed by the heavy thud of l door slamming shut.Silence returned to the moun

Chapter 64: Viktor Cross’ Next Plan.The morning mist hung low over the valley floor, smelling of damp pine and bitter smoke. Five miles south of the burning ruins of Blackwood Mountain, the river road ran parallel to the swift, gray waters of the Serpent River.Draven Mercer walked at the head of the small column. His dark coat was still stiff with dried mud and river silt, but his stride was firm. He had retied his linen wraps tightly across his chest, binding his injured ribs so he could breathe without wincing.Behind him marched forty men—the core of his veteran force. They were quiet, their rifles slung over their shoulders, their faces smeared with charcoal and sweat. Behind the infantry came Brutus, leading six pack mules loaded with captured wooden crates of rifles and brass cartridges.Marcus rode another horse near the middle of the line, scouting the treeline with a pair of brass field glasses. He lowered the glass and trotted his horse up to Draven’s side."The road ahead

Chapter 66: The Supply LineThe three captured wagons rolled smoothly along the narrow forest road, their wooden wheels crunching on pine needles and loose gravel.It was long past midnight.Soon after, cold, light rain began to fall, washing the dark soot from the soldiers' faces and turning the dirt track into slick gray mud.Draven Mercer walked at the rear of the convoy, his rifle resting in the crook of his arm. Every fifty paces, he stopped and turned around, listening to the deep silence of the woods behind them. There were no sounds of horses or iron wheels in pursuit. The guards at the Gate were still too disoriented by the smoke and the sudden loss of their food reserves to organize a chase in the dark.Up ahead, Marcus hopped down from the lead wagon and walked back toward Draven, letting another soldier take the reins."We checked the crates under the canvas covers, Commander," Marcus said, wiping rainwater from his brow. "It is even better than we thought. Four hundred b

Chapter 68: The DerailmentDraven stood at the open doorway of the wooden tollhouse, watching his men work.A short distance away, Brutus and Marcus crouched beside the track switch. The heavy iron lever stuck out of the ground like a rusted sword, connected to a steel rod that ran beneath the wooden cross-ties. The rod led directly to the junction where the main railway split toward the old lumber siding."The track is set, Commander," Marcus reported, wiping frost from his rifle barrel. He checked the position of the rails one last time before looking at Draven. "Everything is aligned toward the old timber spur."Draven stepped down to the gravel beside the tracks. He followed the lumber siding with his eyes until he reached the point where the rusty rails ended at the edge of a cliff. Fifty feet below, the waters of Red Creek crashed against the black rocks, creating a dangerous drop for anything that went over the edge.A low vibration suddenly passed through the iron rails beneat

Chapter 70: The Tunnels BelowThey had gotten to the drainage entrance. Draven crouched on a narrow path of slippery rock and examined the rusty bars with a small lantern."The frame is solid," Draven whispered, keeping his voice low beneath the roar of the river outside. He ran his fingers along the lower hinges, checking how firmly they held the grate in place. "But the bottom hinges are eaten through by rust."One of the soldiers handed him an iron pry bar. He pushed it beneath the lower hinge, and leaned down with all his weight. The rusted metal gave way, and the lower half of the grate swung inward into the tunnel.One by one, Draven and the ten soldiers ducked beneath the jagged metal edge. They stepped into the underground passage, where black water moved around their boots and disappeared into the darkness ahead. The freezing current reached Draven's knees, while the low ceiling forced the soldiers to bend their backs as they moved."Keep your lanterns low," Draven instructe