Soulbound: Dual Cultivation-Chapter 387: Marching towards the truth

Lucas and his Squad reached the crossroads to Lechia and Rus, the place was nothing more than a wide stretch of broken land where three ancient roads met, each one worn by time and war, and Lucas kept his horse steady as he waited at the head of his squad. The ice belle hovered nearby in silence, her presence calm but alert, while the others dismounted and rested without truly relaxing. Everyone knew this point mattered. Whichever path the king chose here would decide the shape of the war.

Half a day later, the distant rumble of marching boots and armored horses finally reached them, and Lucas lifted his head as the king's banner came into view. When the main army arrived and settled, tents rose quickly and discipline returned as if it had never loosened. Not long after, a command was sent, and Lucas found himself walking toward the central tent with Henrietta at his side.

Inside, a large table had been set with maps weighed down by stones. Commander Alexander and Captain Varran were already there, their expressions sharp and attentive. The king entered last, his presence quieting the tent immediately. He rested his hands on the table and looked at each of them in turn before speaking.

"We have reached the point of decision," the king said calmly. "From here, our path will no longer be uncertain."

Varran nodded once. "The scouts confirmed the eastern road leads straight toward Lechia, Your Majesty. If we move now, we can reach their outer defenses within days."

Alexander leaned forward, studying the markings. "The terrain favors fast movement there. If we strike hard and fast, we can disrupt their supply lines early." 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

Lucas remained silent, his eyes on the map, already knowing what was coming. Henrietta stood beside him with the same composed expression she had worn since Valerion.

The king let the words hang for a moment before he spoke again. "We will not be heading to Lechia."

The silence that followed was heavy and immediate.

Alexander looked up sharply. "Not Lechia?" he asked, clearly caught off guard. "Then where, Your Majesty."

Varran frowned, his gaze flicking between the king and the map. "All our preparations were based on that direction. Changing course now will confuse the ranks."

The king reached out and turned one of the markers, placing it firmly along the northern route. "We march to Rus."

Alexander straightened, disbelief clear on his face. "Rus," he repeated slowly. "With respect, that changes everything. Their territory is deeper, their forces more entrenched."

Varran exhaled through his nose. "And they will not expect us," he added after a pause. "But that also means their defenses will be intact."

Henrietta finally spoke, her voice steady and measured. "That is precisely why this works. They did not prepare for this."

Alexander turned toward her. "You sound as though this was already decided."

Lucas lifted his head then. "It was discussed," he said calmly. "Before we left Valerion."

Both Alexander and Varran looked at him at the same time.

"You knew," Varran said slowly. "Both of you."

"We understood the reasoning," Lucas replied. "Lechia is expecting for us. Rus is not."

The king nodded approvingly. "Rus is the spine of this conflict. Break it, and the rest will follow. Their command structure is stronger, but also more rigid. They will not adapt quickly."

Alexander ran a hand through his hair, then gave a short laugh. "So that is why our route felt… indirect."

"It was deliberate," the king said. "I needed certainty before revealing it. Panic spreads faster than reason."

Varran crossed his arms, his earlier shock settling into focus. "Then our first engagement will be against Rus's forward camps."

"Yes," the king said. "And we will move before they realize what we are doing."

Alexander looked back down at the map, his expression hardening. "Then we will need to adjust formations and supply lines immediately."

Lucas nodded. "My squad can continue scouting ahead. We already intercepted one of their scouts days ago. Rus is active in this region."

The king's gaze sharpened slightly. "Intercepted," he repeated. "Alive."

Lucas met his eyes. "Alive and useful."

A faint smile tugged at the king's lips. "Good. Then this path was the right one."

Henrietta placed a hand lightly on the edge of the table. "They believe Xavier is weakened. They will act on that belief."

Alexander looked up again. "Then they will come for us."

Lucas's eyes remained steady. "Let them," he said quietly. "We will already be inside their reach when they do."

Lucas stood over the map long after the others had gone quiet, his eyes tracing the northern route again and again while the weight of what this decision truly meant settled deep into his chest. This was no longer just a change in direction or a bold maneuver meant to surprise the enemy. This was a blade aimed inward as much as outward, a test designed to draw blood from a hidden wound Valerion had carried for far too long.

He understood it clearly now, perhaps more clearly than anyone else in that tent.

If Rus met them with a force that was small, rushed, or poorly positioned, then the truth would be ugly but familiar. It would mean that information had leaked upward through the channels of power, that one of the king's elder councilors had sold their loyalty to the usurpers long ago. Lucas felt no shock at that possibility. It had been expected. The king himself had expected it. That was precisely why this march toward Rus existed at all. It was bait, carefully prepared and deliberately visible, meant to confirm which rot still clung to the throne.

Lucas glanced briefly at the king, who stood with his hands clasped behind his back, staring at nothing in particular. The man looked calm, but Lucas could sense the tension beneath it, the patience of a ruler who had already accepted betrayal as the price of survival.

But the second possibility weighed far heavier.

If Rus met them with a large force, organized, entrenched, and waiting as if they had always known the true destination, then the knife would not be pointed at some distant council chamber or aging noble with loose morals. It would be pointed right here, inside the circle of trust closest to the king.

Lucas felt his jaw tighten slightly at the thought.

Because that outcome meant only one thing.

Only a handful of people knew the truth before they left Valerion. The march toward Rus had been discussed quietly, behind closed doors, far from servants and ears that could be bought. If the trick failed, then the traitor was not some faceless elder hiding behind tradition and ceremony.

It would be one of them.

Lucas himself. Henrietta. The Empress. Or the Queen.

The thought slid into his mind like ice water, chilling and sharp. He examined it from every angle, forcing himself to stay rational, to not let emotion cloud judgment. He knew his own loyalty. He knew Henrietta's. Her devotion had been proven with blood and fire in the abyss. The Empress had given too much of herself to protect him for that accusation to sit easily in his heart. And yet, war did not care about comfort, and truth often wore the face of the unthinkable.

Henrietta seemed to sense the shift in his thoughts. She did not speak, but her eyes moved to him briefly, searching his expression. Lucas met her gaze and gave a subtle nod, nothing more, but it carried understanding. She knew what this meant too. She had always known.

The king finally spoke. He said that by the time they reached Rus, the kingdom would reveal its true shape. Not the shape it pretended to have, but the one carved by fear, greed, and loyalty under pressure.

Lucas breathed in slowly.

This march was not just toward an enemy city. It was toward the truth.

And no matter which answer awaited them at Rus, blood would follow.