Free Web NovelChapter 544: Chapter 544
Ragnar’s attention was once more drawn to her. His eyes stayed on her a little longer than he intended before he finally looked away.
She spoke with the confidence of a leader. Now that he had truly paid attention, it was difficult to ignore.
He remained with Circe for a while longer before it was time for him to leave.
Before departing, he leaned closer to her and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
"I’ll be back soon," he told her.
Then he turned and headed for the door. freēwēbnovel.com
As he passed Morana, neither of them looked at each other.
A moment later, the door closed behind him and the change in Morana was immediate.
Her face fell and the hurt she had been hiding finally showed.
It was difficult being this close to her son while pretending he was simply another person in the room.
She was not allowed to look at him. Not allowed to speak to him. Not allowed to ask him questions or tell him the things she had wanted to say for years.
Every second she spent ignoring him left an ache in her chest.
She did not know how she would endure more moments like this in the future but she also knew this was the only arrangement Ragnar was willing to accept.
These were the boundaries he had set and despite how much they hurt, she would respect them. Because being allowed to remain near her son, even under these conditions, was better than being completely shut out of his life. No matter how painful it was, she intended to stay.
Morana was eventually pulled from her melancholy by the faint sensation brushing against her hand.
The touch was light and tentative. Gentle enough that she might not have noticed it at all while lost in thought.
She lowered her gaze slowly and found Circe’s hand resting over hers.
For a moment, Morana simply stared at it. It was a small gesture, but after everything that had happened, after the strain of forcing herself to remain aloof in Ragnar’s presence, that simple touch nearly unraveled what little restraint she still possessed.
When Morana finally looked up, Circe was already watching her.
There was no pitying look in her eyes, only understanding and compassion.
No words were exchanged between them yet the softness in her eyes seemed to say exactly what Morana needed to hear.
Do not lose hope.
Emotion tightened painfully in Morana’s throat.
Very gently, she closed her fingers around Circe’s hand and gave it the faintest squeeze in gratitude. She cherished it her support and right now, Circe’s kindness felt like a lifeline.
—
Meanwhile, Ragnar found himself thinking about Morana’s observation long after he left Circe’s chambers. The more he considered it, the more frustrated he became that such an obvious problem had not been properly addressed during previous military discussions.
As he walked through the palace halls toward his chambers, he replayed her words in his mind.
Historically, armies moving through the east had often used that isolation to their advantage. One village could be attacked before the next even knew danger was approaching. It matched several tactics the rebel militia had already used in recent months.
By the time Ragnar reached his chambers, he was no longer thinking about Morana herself. His focus had shifted entirely to the implications of what she had said.
The roads there were often narrow and poorly maintained. Several villages were separated by dense forests and difficult terrain. Delays in communication created opportunities for the rebels to strike and disappear before help could arrive.
And despite countless meetings and briefings during his father’s reign, no one had devoted enough attention to fixing the problem.
The issue remained on his mind well into the night.
---
The next morning, he brought the matter directly to Casilo.
To Ragnar’s satisfaction, he immediately understood the seriousness of the issue. Hence the two of them spent most of the morning fine-tuning their plans for the eastern territory.
Additional soldiers would be stationed around each settlement and mounted messengers would travel regular routes between settlements so that correspondence moved quicker. Temporary outposts would also be built near vulnerable villages to allow faster military responses when attacks occurred.
By midday, the revised plans had been distributed to commanders.
By evening, preparations were already underway.
Two days later, Ragnar rode east with his army. Rows of soldiers marched through the capital while the sound of hooves echoed along the streets. People watched from windows and balconies as their king departed for war once again.
Ragnar rode at the head of the procession on his black war horse and Casilo rode beside him. Behind them came long lines of soldiers, armed and ready for battle.
With each passing mile, the capital grew farther away. The palace had long disappeared from view
High above them, unnoticed by everyone below, Morana moved through the sky. She flew high enough to remain unseen, her dark wings carrying her effortlessly above the army as she followed from a distance, matching their pace without difficulty.
None of the soldiers thought to look upward.
No one noticed the shadow moving far above the clouds.
Morana kept her distance and never descended low enough to risk being spotted.
But her eyes never left Ragnar. She watched him intently as she trailed behind. And she remained ready to intervene if he ever needed her.
The mission was not unfolding the way Ragnar had planned, which meant it was going worse than almost anyone else would have anticipated. Ragnar’s threshold for difficulty sat considerably higher than that of most commanders. His forces were disciplined, well-supplied, and responsive to orders. He had fought in enough battles over the years to understand what to expect. But none of that mattered now because what they were fighting now was not a regular army.
They were facing an unpredictable force that refused to adhere to the rules of conventional warfare.
The scouts he had sent to investigate the suspected rebel camps had returned with reports. Their findings had been troubling. The rebel forces had grown tremendously since the last time Ragnar had faced them. What had once been a scattered insurgency had evolved into something far larger and more organized.
Even now, Ragnar could not help cursing Nheera and Laheir for everything they had done to cripple the kingdom. Their reign of terror had created the conditions that allowed men like Gerard to thrive. Now Ragnar was the one forced to clean up the mess they had left behind.
Gerard, the leader of the rebellion, had been in hiding ever since his escape from prison, and he was far from foolish.
He would never line his forces up on an open battlefield and engage Ragnar’s superior army in a direct confrontation.
Instead, he relied on his cunning strategies. He sent loyal men into the forests and hills in small, fast-moving groups. They would surround an isolated settlement, strike a carefully selected target, burn and destroy what they came for, and disappear back into the wilderness before a proper counterattack could be organized. By the time royal soldiers arrived, there was usually nothing left but blackened ruins, smoking timber, and the dead.
