Soulbound: Dual Cultivation-Chapter 389: Realization of betrayal 2

Lucas asked Patrick how many soldiers the usurpers have in preparation for them ahead....the answer Patrick gave him stunned him.

Lucas did not hide his reaction this time. His eyes widened slightly, just enough for those closest to him to notice, and the air around the group seemed to tighten.

"How many," Lucas asked again, slower now, as if the number might change if spoken twice.

Patrick swallowed. "Twelve thousand," he said quietly. "Fully mobilized. Infantry, cavalry, and cultivators already arranged into battle formations. They’re two days ride away from here."

Bartho let out a sharp breath. "That is almost double what they should be able to gather on such short notice, and they are so close."

Jennifer shook her head in disbelief. "That is not preparation. That is anticipation."

Lucas felt the last thread of doubt snap cleanly inside him. Twelve thousand was not a reaction force. Twelve thousand was an army that had been waiting patiently, an army that had known exactly where to stand and when to move. The betrayal was no longer a suspicion. It was a fact carved into numbers and timing.

"So it is confirmed," Lucas said softly, more to himself than anyone else. "They were informed before we ever left."

Patrick lowered his head again. "The general spoke with certainty," he added. "No urgency. No panic. He said the pieces were falling into place."

Lucas closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again, the softness gone. "That is enough," he said. "You have done what you were meant to do."

Patrick looked up, startled. "You want me to return."

"Yes," Lucas replied. "And you will continue exactly as before. Scout what they ask you to scout. Observe what you can. And when new information surfaces, you will find your way back to me."

Patrick hesitated. "And my family."

Lucas met his gaze without wavering. "They live as long as you do exactly that," he said. "And when this ends, I will personally see to their safety. This I promise you."

Patrick pressed his fist to his chest, emotion breaking through his fear. "Then I will not fail," he said, before turning and disappearing back into the open terrain with the quiet urgency of a man carrying more than his own life on his shoulders.

Lucas watched him go for a moment longer than necessary. Then he turned to his squad.

"Twelve thousand," Bartho muttered. "If the king does not know this."

"He must," Lucas said. "Immediately."

His gaze settled on Renly, who straightened instinctively under the weight of it.

"Renly," Lucas said, his tone firm and precise. "You will ride to the king alone. No detours. No delays. You tell him exactly what Patrick told us. The number. The readiness. And what that implies."

Renly nodded once, already stepping forward. "I will not slow down."

"You will not stop," Lucas added. "You reach the king and no one else."

Renly placed a hand over his heart. "I swear it."

As Renly mounted and spurred his horse into motion, Lucas felt the weight of what he had just set in motion. Once the king heard this, there would be no more illusions left to preserve. Someone close. Someone trusted. Someone powerful had sold Valerion’s future to its enemies.

The ice belle drifted closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "Your heart is loud," she said. "It is hurting you."

Lucas did not deny it. "Because whoever it is," he replied quietly, "has stood beside us, smiled with us, and spoken of victory while sharpening the knife."

Jennifer looked at him with concern. "What do we do now."

Lucas turned his gaze back toward Rus, his expression settling into something cold and resolute. "Now we walk into a battlefield that was prepared for us," he said. "And we do so knowing that the enemy is not only in front of us."

He tightened his grip on the reins. "We move forward," he continued. "Carefully and quietly, we watch everyone."

The squad fell silent, understanding the gravity of his words, as Renly’s figure vanished into the distance, carrying with him the truth that would change the course of the war.

Lucas remained where he was, long after Renly had disappeared beyond the horizon. The wind brushed against his cloak, but he barely felt it. His thoughts were no longer with the squad, nor with Rus, nor even with the looming battle that awaited them. They had drifted to a far more fragile place.

The king.

The realization settled heavily in his chest, heavier than the knowledge of twelve thousand soldiers waiting for them. This kind of truth did not merely inform a ruler. It corroded him.

If the king receives this and begins to doubt every voice around him, Lucas thought, then the battle is already lost.

He pictured the king’s face when the news arrived. The tightening of his jaw. The way his eyes would grow guarded. A man betrayed does not simply grow cautious. He grows alone. And a king who stands alone, who trusts no one, not even those who have bled for him, becomes brittle under pressure.

"If he starts second guessing every advice," Lucas murmured under his breath, unaware he had spoken aloud, "then even the right decisions will come too late."

Bartho glanced at him. "You think this will shake him that badly."

Lucas nodded slowly. "It would shake anyone. Imagine knowing the traitor is not a distant noble or a careless official, but someone who shares your table, your war councils, your silences."

Jennifer folded her arms. "He is still the king."

"Yes," Lucas replied, his voice low, almost grim. "But he is also human."

He exhaled quietly. If the king begins to doubt himself, if he begins to see enemies in every shadow, then even Lucas would no longer be an exception. Trust would become a liability. Loyalty would be questioned. And the army would feel it, seeping downward like poison.

They might already be marching toward their own graves, he thought bleakly.

The ice belle hovered closer, her presence calm but perceptive. She did not speak immediately. She rarely did when emotions were tangled. When she finally did, her voice was soft but clear.

"You are afraid of what fear will do to him."

Lucas met her eyes. "Fear makes men cling to control," he said. "And war does not forgive rigid hands."

Lucas straightened slightly, forcing the weight down, burying it where it would not slow him. Worry would not save the king. Only clarity would...only results.

"If he doubts everyone," Lucas thought, "then I will make sure my actions speak louder than loyalty ever could."

He looked toward the road ahead, where Rus waited with its prepared army and unseen traitors watched from behind friendly lines.

"Until then," he whispered to himself, "we keep moving. Because stopping now would only prove them right."