Chapter 230 (2/2)

What is this weapon?

Even after thinking about it for a long time, she was still unable to find the answer, but seeing that the other patrol member was returning, without a better choice Aphra recalled the mercenary’s previous appearance and carried it on her shoulder, assuming the appearance as if she was earnestly doing her sentry duty.

Like on so many previous assassinations, when the other guard passed her, he didn’t discover anything strange about her.

Aphra wasn’t in a hurry to enter the camp to search for the witch’s whereabouts, after all, her replacing technique could only imitate the external form, but didn’t allow her to read their memories. So, in case she met one of his acquaintances she would easily be exposed. Thus she decided to wait until these troops were in a state of disorder, which would provide her with the liberty of choosing between countless opportunities.

When the moon was hanging high up in the night sky, the Dreamland fools had finally crossed the canal, and were moving closer to the camp. The moment she heard the call of another sentry and saw the patrols and mercenaries withdrawing to the camp, she knew that her chance had come.

Following the crowd into the camp, Aphra ​​was surprised to find out that the other side had far more than only a hundred people. Forming a big circle, they were surrounded by the entire top of the small slope and where either crouching or standing, holding the strange pole in their hands, and always pointing the hole towards the enemy.

But she had not the time to take a further look, taking advantage of the group’s attention being focused elsewhere, she bent over and entered the nearest tent.

Soon, battle cries drifted over from the outside, cut off by a burst of the fierce explosion. Frightening Aphra into a little jump with its intense and almost unceasingly noise.

What the hell was going on? On impulse, she wanted to take a look, but then she regained her control back and calmly waited.

After some time, the camp became busy again, and she heard a lot of footsteps and shouted commands, which probably their attempts to adjust their defense in accordance to the enemy’s attack. But slowly Aphra became anxious, what took them so long, why hadn’t they attacked the top of the slope yet?!

A while later again, the sounds of explosion gradually thinned out, and when Aphra was no longer able to hear the rats fighting her heart sunk, is… it possible that the Dreamland wastrels were defeated?? Even if the number of mercenaries has been doubled, they were still only 200 – 300 people, surrounded by more than a thousand rats. With this numbers and by attacking from all sides, were they still unable to set foot at the top of the hill?

It seems as if the opportunity was slipping out of her hands.

Making a quick decision, Aphra left the tent, trying to reach the center of the camp. There she would wait for the end of the battle. After all, during the roll call it would be nearly impossible for her to hide from all of their eyes. This really wasn’t how she had planned the infiltration, she was neither familiar with the mercenaries staff nor did she know their password, so she had to act quickly.

Bypassing two tents, Aphra slowly poked around the edge, looking at the center of the camp. There she saw four women sitting around a bonfire, they were most probably the witches their intelligence had spoken off. Although the number wasn’t right again, from the beginning of this operation, the damned report hadn’t been accurate. Furthermore, for her it didn’t make a difference if she had to kill two or four witches, anyone who was suspected to be corrupted needed to be tortured. And in case the time was too short for torturing, they at least all had to be killed, even if they weren’t really corrupted, sacrifices were always necessary.

After she carefully observed her surrounding and decided upon a safe escape route, Aphra stood up from behind the tent, pretending as if nothing had happened as if she was just moving closer to the fire.

Just when she had reached the middle of the open space, Aphra ​​felt a cold hard object press against her back.

“Don’t move,” a woman voice sounded. “Who are you?”