Chapter 540

On the evening of June 18th, ten men raised their coarse cups of cold water. For years, they had lacked coffee and alcohol. Coffee was a luxury they couldn't afford in the border city, and though wine was cheap, they dared not touch it. They feared that even a single sip might reveal their identities in their drunken state, leading to their doom.

They had only bought alcohol once, upon learning of the deaths of Hector and his six sons. Even then, they didn't drink it; instead, they poured it on the ground as a tribute. That night, they mourned under their blankets for hours.

But their mourning lasted only one night. The next day, they dried their tears and continued their perilous journey; the Southern Frontier remained unreclaimed.

After the Southern Frontier's recapture and Victor's arrival with his troops, the Septimus Tetra reconnaissance team could no longer send messages. Crossing the border also became exceedingly difficult. Previously, they had mingled with convoys carrying food and goods to Simonton City to deliver intelligence. Now, escape was impossible.

Following Starhaven's reclamation of the Southern Frontier, they desperately sought escape. Their frantic search led to Law's capture. Law likely endured severe torture, but he never betrayed them. Otherwise, the Sandorian soldiers would have found them. His resolve was unyielding; he preferred death to surrender.

The men of the Septimus Tetra reconnaissance team were unafraid. Kicking off their sandals, all ten bent down to put on new, self-made shoes. They shed their ragged clothing and donned new clothes sewn from black cloth.

They had once been soldiers who fought with swords and knives—how could they sew? Years of poverty, however, forced them to learn. Unable to afford ready-made clothes, they had used scraps of fabric and learned from local old women.

Once, they had possessed no weapons, emerging from a prisoner camp with their clothes torn from beatings. After years of hardship, they now had reliable swords. When on intelligence missions, Tom and Law led the group deep into the mountains for practice.

They were resilient weeds in the desert, their loyalty and duty sustaining them.

That night, the bright moon eclipsed the stars. The group knelt and saluted towards Starhaven. If this mission failed, they would be buried in the border city, hoping their spirits would return home to their loved ones.

With tragic determination, they set out. They knew the border city's roads so well they could navigate them blindfolded.

Rafael and his team lay in wait near the garrison, poised to move with the guard shift change. It was almost time.

Dylan remained at the eastern corner, near a high wall platform typically used for archers. However, due to heavy troop presence, no archers were stationed there. If the rescue succeeded, this would be the ideal location for Dylan's support.

The three infiltrating the garrison held their breath, watching the heavily armed guards. The shift change was less than fifteen minutes away.

As the time arrived, the guards began moving. Patrolling guards dispersed, replaced by new patrols. After a joint situation check, all patrols halted.

Everett scaled the wall first, landing silently. Rafael and Jacob followed, dropping beside him.

Then, they heard the faint sound of iron hooks. Exchanging astonished glances, they looked toward the wall ten feet away. Head after head quietly emerged, scaling the wall and silently dropping down.

All wore black clothes. Though their Lightfoot Skill wasn't impressive, their movements were quick and efficient as they maneuvered along the wall.