Chapter 392 Escape Part I
The carriage arrived at the naval base.
The atmosphere was hectic, to say the least, as soldiers and naval officers hurriedly moved about, ensuring the smooth operation of the port.
The clatter of footsteps and the distant sounds of orders being barked created a symphony of controlled chaos.
Seeing where the carriage took them, Charlotte promptly asked, "Why are we here?"
"Let me take a look at the captured secessionists. I want to see the brave faces of people who thought they could go against me."
As Riz stepped out of the carriage, the salty sea breeze gently blew on his face.
His eyes scanned the surroundings, taking note of the various ships anchored at the port, some being loaded with supplies, while others were undergoing maintenance.
Approaching the area where the captured secessionists were held, he overheard snippets of conversations among the soldiers and officers.
"Make sure the prisoners are securely tied! We can't afford any escape attempts!"
"Captain, we need additional guards near the storage area. There are reports of unauthorized personnel trying to access the weapons cache...again."
"Get those crates on board! We're running out of time!"
"Tsk! The pirates are back for maintenance."
Riz made his way through the controlled chaos, occasionally nodding in acknowledgement to the salutes of passing officers.
Charlotte was walking closely behind, ensuring the safety of her liege.
It's been a while since she acted as his bodyguard.
Due to her task in her hand, she would send trusted agents in her place to protect his safety from the shadow, knowing that Riz doesn't like a random person walking close to him like she did.
Stopping in front of them, Riz observed the captives with a discerning gaze.
The detained rebels bore a variety of expressions as they looked up and saw the king smirking at them. Some met his eyes with a glare while others cast their gazes downward, defeated and demoralized.
Many emotions blended in together.
"Look at all of you," Riz speak. "Your fight is useless. You've lost not only the battle but also your wealth. Soon, more will join you. Enjoy your eternal stay on that island."
A smirk played on Riz's lips as he continued, "Isn't that what rich people love, relaxing on an island?" His words carried a mocking tone, targeting the rich merchants who were bound among the prisoners.
The rich merchants remained silent, frustrated to hear the king's words.
On the other hand, the naval officers overseeing the prisoners maintained a watchful stance, ensuring that the captives remained restrained.
Riz scanned the rebels again.
He noticed that there were a few faces missing among them.
And so he assured them as if he knew their sources of frustration, "Don't worry, we will never let anyone escape. Your leaders will soon receive the same fate as you are."
....
Rafoldrod City, Rafoldrod Province.
BAM!—
A door of a certain grand mansion belonging to a smithy family was kicked open.
The resounding echo of a forcefully kicked door reverberated through the quiet night, disturbing the stillness that enveloped that place.
Moonlight glows on the scene as soldiers clad in uniform storm into the opulent residence like water gushing out of the dam.
The mansion, adorned with intricate ironwork in its architecture belongs to none other than the smithy family called Ferron.
Their boots resonated on the marble floor, causing the people within the mansion to stir up from their slumber.
Fear and confusion etched across their faces as they were forcibly awakened by the presence of soldiers who had advanced into the heart of the mansion.
Within moments, the tranquillity of the mansion disappears. Doors were hastily thrown open, revealing lavish chambers.
"Search every room and drag everyone out! We're also looking for evidence of treason!"
Soldiers immediately execute the orders.
Drawers were yanked open, ornate furnishings were scrutinized, and personal belongings were strewn about for the sake of finding evidence.
As the soldiers checked every single floor of the mansion, people residing within, hastily dressed in nightclothes, were herded together at the ground floor.
They are whispering among themself while their faces project expressions of anxiety and fear.
"Quiet!" shouted Bain, the man tasked to lead this operation.
The people ceased their conversations. All eyes were on Bain, the chief of the army, waiting for his next words.
Bain scrutinized the people huddled in front of him. His eyes narrowed and his face slowly contorted into a frown, intensifying the atmosphere of unease that permeated the room.
"Where's Albert Ferron?" he asked.
The man he was supposed to capture is nowhere to be seen.
Hearing his question, everybody looks around. Eyes darted nervously, glances exchanged, and tension increased within the mansion. Uncertainty flickered in their eyes as they searched for any sign of Albert Ferron.
"Where is Albert Ferron!" Bain thundered.
This time, his tone is much harsher.
As he scanned the faces before him, it became increasingly evident that these individuals were not members of the Ferron family.
Their unkempt appearance, rough demeanour, and worn-out nightclothes marked them as servants rather than the wealthy family in the eyes of Bain.
Yet, despite the harsher tone, Bain's question remained unanswered.
"Sir!" a soldier interrupted, drawing Bain's attention away from the assembled group.
"What is it?" Bain's gaze shifted toward the soldier upstairs.
"We found no sign of the Ferron family, sir. Not a single one of them." the soldier reported.
"F*ck!" he cursed. It appears to him that the Ferrons are one step ahead. He then asked the soldier, "Any clue where they might go?"
The soldier shook his head, "We are looking for it."
"Keep looking," Bain said before flicking back to the people in front of him. "Perhaps most of you don't know this so here I am, going to tell you. Your employers had committed treason toward the king and the kingdom. If you thought protecting them would do you any good, feel free to continue doing so."
In an instant, their faces drained of colour followed by a collective gasp.
Just imagining the severe punishments that might charged causes them to shiver in fear.
After a few minutes passed, a lone voice among the crowd spoke up, almost hesitantly, "Turtevekesia."
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