Chapter 12: The Ambush at Elder Groves

The midnight air in the Elder Groves was tense as Sebeth and his group cautiously advanced through the dark forest. The towering trees, their branches twisting like ancient claws, cast eerie shadows that danced under the faint light of the stars and the soft glow of luminescent mana insects. Sebeth, clad in the white armour of the Crafter army, led the group, his senses heightened, every rustle of leaves and snap of twigs putting him on edge.

Beside him stood Sir Alaric Stormrider, Sir Thaddeus Ironheart, and two experienced Knight Captains, previously stationed at Outpost 4 before Sebeth's arrival. Their white armour, the standard battle attire of the Crafter army, gleamed faintly in the dim light, starkly contrasting the oppressive darkness surrounding them.

Alaric, his silver hair flowing behind him like a stormy cloud, scanned the area with sharp, focused eyes. "This place is a natural ambush site," he muttered, his voice low but carrying a note of concern. "We should be ready for anything."

Thaddeus, always an imposing presence, clutched his shield firmly, his unwavering gaze locked on the path before him. "Let them come," he rumbled. "I'll crush any goblin that dares show its face."

One of the Knight Captains, a younger man with a nervous edge, whispered to the other, "Do you think they know we're here? This forest... it feels alive like it's watching us."

The older Captain, his voice steady, replied, "Stay sharp. The goblins chose this place for a reason. They know it better than we do."

As they moved deeper into the forest, the undergrowth suddenly rustled. Instinctively, Sebeth’s hand went to the hilt of his sword, and his eyes narrowed. Emerging from the shadows, a group of goblins appeared, their green skin camouflaging with the dark leaves. At their head stood a formidable figure—the Goblin Chieftain.

Both groups halted, the tension between them palpable. The forest seemed to hold its breath as Sebeth stepped forward, his gaze locked on the Chief. "Speak," Sebeth commanded, his voice cold and unyielding.

The Goblin Chief’s lips curled into a cruel smile, his yellowed teeth glinting in the faint light. "You've come, human. Good. Let’s talk."

As the Goblins asserted their presence, two knight captains aside from Alaric and Thaddeus, started to doubt their choice to follow Sebeth. The foreboding presence of the Goblins, combined with the fact that it was midnight, only intensified their unease. The pair struggled to maintain their faltering confidence. "Man, it's cold out here," one of the knight captains muttered, using the chill as a pretext to mask his fear, and his companion concurred with the sentiment. Alaric and Thaddeus, on the other hand, were silently amused by the situation. Although Alaric was adept at concealing his feelings, Thaddeus allowed a slight chuckle to betray his amusement. However, their brief moment of levity was interrupted as the two groups drew nearer to each other. While all this was happening behind Sebeth, the group approached towards the Goblin. Although Sebeth was conscious of the situation, he chose not to engage in the merriment behind him. He opts instead to concentrate fully on the advancing goblins.

The goblins had chosen the venue and arranged the crude pleasantries—a makeshift table surrounded by rough-hewn stools. The scene was lit only by the faint glow of the mana insects, casting an otherworldly light on the grim meeting.

As both sides took their seats, the silence was heavy, each party stalling for time, their minds preoccupied with the thought of ambushes. The goblins, familiar with the terrain, had selected the midnight hour to catch Sebeth's soldiers in a tired state of mind. Yet, neither side let their true intentions show.

The Goblin Chief finally broke the silence, his voice grating in the stillness. "Let’s get straight to the meat of the situation. We want you to vacate that fortress of yours. In exchange, we shall consider ceasing further hostilities against your kind for a year. How does this wager sound to you?"

Sebeth leaned back in his chair, his posture casual but commanding. He paused, his eyes taking in the Goblin Chief and his four guards, all adorned in crude but intimidating armour. The table was the only spot truly illuminated. The forest remained shrouded in darkness, save for the occasional flicker of light from the glowing insects.

"If only we weren’t engaged in this dialogue," Sebeth mused aloud, his tone almost wistful. "This place would have been a beautiful campsite on such a night."

The Chief’s eyes narrowed at the non-answer, irritation flashing across his face. "What do you wager instead?" he asked, his tone growing crasser.

Sebeth smiled slightly, taking his time to respond. "Let’s see…" He intentionally dragged out the conversation, knowing that the goblins would never accept his terms. Each offer he made was designed to be stringent enough to force a counteroffer, prolonging the talks as long as possible.

Sir Alaric observed Sebeth. He comprehended the game being played. He leaned in slightly, whispering, "They’re getting restless, Commander. We might need to act soon."

Thaddeus grunted in agreement. "Let them squirm a bit more. These goblins are cunning, but they’re losing their patience."

The negotiations dragged on for hours, each side making and rejecting offers. The Goblin Chief, clearly agitated, slammed his fist down on the table with finality. "This talk is going nowhere! Here is our final offer—"

Before the Chief could finish, Sebeth interjected, his tone suddenly serious, his carefree demeanour gone. "How about this: Release all the captives you have, at your settlement, and we shall consider not attacking your settlement in retaliation."

The Goblin Chief’s eyes widened, but he quickly recovered, sneering at Sebeth. "What captives are you talking about?"

Sebeth’s gaze hardened. "Oh, so I see it now. The captives are dead, aren’t they? Judging by the ornamentation of skulls, I presume they were all members of Clan Vyrnsteel."

The Chief’s attempt to change the subject was cut short as Sebeth’s eyes narrowed. Suddenly, a burst of red light flared in the sky—a signal.

"I guess it’s time," Sebeth said, his voice calm but carrying an edge of finality.

The Chief, confused, asked, "What time?"

Sebeth’s expression darkened as he stood, his hand crackling with raw lightning aura. "It’s time to end this farce. Did you think I wouldn’t catch onto your little ambush plan?"

Before the Chief could react, Sebeth thrust his fist forward, "And I am fully aware that you are just a stand-in for your chief and not the real deal." as Sepeth gave that remark, he unleashed a massive pillar of lightning that tore through the dark forest behind the goblins, striking down the 100 goblin soldiers lying in wait. The forest flickered briefly as the attackers were swiftly obliterated, leaving behind nothing but smouldering remains.

The Goblin Chief, merely a disguised negotiator, scarcely had a moment to gasp before Sebeth's companions swiftly dispatched the remaining guards in rapid succession. Sir Alaric was the first to speak, his voice carrying a note of concern. "You shouldn’t have used that here. Your condition isn’t what it used to be. You should rely more on your tools next time."

Sebeth, breathing heavily, nodded. "Sorry, Emotions got the better of me. It will not happen next time. Doc."

He drew his sword, a Special creation of his own, its blade gleaming in the faint light. Sebeth approached the goblin negotiator, who lay helpless on the ground. "I hope you apologize to the people whose lives you took once you get to the other side. And do not fret. Your chief will follow you there soon enough."

With a swift, decisive motion, Sebeth ended the fake Goblin Chief's life with a single swing of his blade.

As the group of five dealt with the aftermath, another flare lit up the sky—this time, it was blue.

"The time has arrived," Sebeth said, his voice filled with determination as he led his companions into the forest towards the next battlefront.

To Be Continued...

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