The Debt Of Fate-Chapter 317: Captured

When King Edward heard the news, he was livid. A few royal council members were present, as they were waiting for the arrival of Lord Aureline. No one had expected him to have backup to rescue him.

"I will go and bring back his head," King Edward declared as he got up to leave.

"Your Majesty, leaving the royal city at this point does not seem like a good choice," Lord Williams said. He felt it was a bad idea for the king to leave the palace or the royal city at this point, especially when the strength of the men who rescued Lord Aureline was unclear.

Perhaps this was a trap to lead the king out of the palace.

"Why?" King Edward asked.

"Your Majesty, this might be a trap," Lord Williams said.

Edward frowned. It was indeed strange that they had waited so close to the royal city to strike. To win, one must know oneself and one’s enemy, but there was no clear understanding of the enemy.

"Lord Williams is always so cautious. His Majesty is a man of war. He knows what to pay attention to," Lord Steve said. He was the one who had brought up the issue of the second prince. He had been walking on thin ice since he heard that Lord Aureline was going to be brought back to the palace to be executed. He feared for his life and that of his family, but hearing about the escape, he felt relieved.

Like Lord Williams, he saw the trap, but he wanted the king to fall into it, so he made the statement.

King Edward frowned. He did not want to appear weak or afraid before the court, but he was not stupid enough to be led by the nose.

"Lord Steve has a point. I am a man of war and know how to assess the situation, but I am also a king. This might just be a plot to lure away the lion and rule the jungle," he paused. "We will send reinforcements and tighten the security within the royal city."

Lord Steve still wanted to speak, but he decided to remain quiet.

"Then, Your Majesty, may I suggest General Ernest lead the hunt?" Lord Williams asked.

Many of the lords nodded in agreement. They praised Ernest’s skills. It was as though they believed he would definitely succeed if he went out.

King Edward felt angry hearing all those praises. "General Ernest is indeed a fine choice, but since he was poisoned, he has not been as sharp. He was in charge of the royal security when my son got injured. It has been over two months since then, and he has not been able to identify the culprit. I do not think he is suitable," Edward discredited him.

The lords looked at one another, unsure of the king’s thoughts. At that moment, a message came from outside the palace.

"General Ernest requests an audience with the king. He claims it is a matter of great importance and urgency," the steward announced.

Everyone was shocked. They had just been talking about him, and he had arrived.

"Let him in," King Edward commanded.

Ernest stepped in and bowed to the king. "Your Majesty, I was investigating the uproar that happened within the royal city a while back, and I discovered a very important clue. It is linked to Lord Aureline. He planned to pull the royal city into chaos. I had a witness I have been trying to capture. As I followed the clues, I realized that Lord Aureline might have backup close to the royal city. I hurried back to inform Your Majesty so reinforcements could be sent to Colonel Simon’s team," Ernest said.

Edward frowned upon hearing this. "General Ernest, your intelligence is about half a day late. Lord Aureline has already escaped, and we just received the news." How he wished he had received this intelligence the night before.

Ernest was shocked. "How did they move so fast?" He looked regretful and deep in thought. For some reason, no one disturbed him.

"Your Majesty, I already have a good idea of the size of his reinforcements. I ask Your Majesty to grant me permission to lead the reinforcements and bring back the rebel—or his head," Ernest said.

"Why should His Majesty trust you? If your news was not half a day old, perhaps this disaster might not have happened," Lord Steve said. He was worried that a skilled man like Ernest might truly kill or capture Aureline.

If Aureline was killed, it would be fine, but if he was brought back to the royal city, their connection would be exposed.

"Your Majesty, I take responsibility for my slow investigation. Grant me the opportunity to redeem myself," Ernest said.

King Edward thought for a while. "You have my permission," he announced after a moment. He knew that Ernest’s abilities were the most suitable. Although he did not want him to gain any significant achievements, he still could not risk letting Lord Aureline, that threat, continue to breathe.

...

The news of Lord Aureline’s escape spread quickly.

It did not stay within the palace walls.

By the next morning, whispers had already reached the streets outside the royal city. By nightfall, the story had grown, twisted, and sharpened with every retelling.

"They rescued him right under the king’s nose."

"So close to the royal city, and still they failed."

"If the gods were on King Edward’s side, would this have happened?"

At first, people spoke cautiously. They lowered their voices. They looked over their shoulders.

The name Lord Aureline began to carry a strange weight again.

Some said his escape was no coincidence. Others claimed the timing was proof.

"The rebellion failed, yet Aureline lives."

Slowly, the guesses turned into facts.

"He is protected."

"He is favored."

"He is chosen."

In taverns, soldiers whispered over their cups. In markets, merchants exchanged looks and spoke in half-sentences. Even within the temples, prayers became uneasy.

"If the heavens rejected him," someone murmured, "why does he still escape?"

"And why does disaster follow the king?" another replied.

The young prince’s accident.

The missing second prince.

The rumors of kin-slaying.

The drought.

The plague in the fifth region.

Now this.

Each event stacked neatly atop the last, forming a story people believed.

"King Edward fights," some said. "But God does not answer him."

Others were bolder.

"God has turned away."

"He has chosen another, just like he did to King Saul in the Bible."

By the time the rumors reached the outer regions, the words were no longer whispers.

They were claims.

They said Lord Aureline was the man the heavens shielded.

They said King Edward ruled by steel alone.

They said a rejected king could still win battles—but never peace.

Inside the palace, officials tried to suppress the talk. Guards were ordered to watch taverns. Priests were warned to choose their words carefully.

But it was too late.

These talks were like ants climbing the king’s body. Though they might not kill, they were enough to cause damage.

"How long will it take to capture a rebel? It’s been several days already," the king was anxious.

"Your Majesty, it’s only been five days. Give it more time," Lord Williams tried to calm him.

"Send him word. If he doesn’t capture Aureline in two days, then his head will be the first to be hanged," King Edward was unable to calm down.

...

The king’s message reached Ernest that same afternoon.

The words were short. Cold.

Two days.

Ernest read it once, then folded the paper and handed it to his aide.

"He is panicking," the aide said quietly.

"Yes," Ernest replied. "Which means we can move now."

They were already close.

Lord Aureline’s hideout lay deep within a wooded ravine, hidden between broken hills and narrow paths. Smoke rose faintly from within the trees. Armed men patrolled the outer edges, moving in loose formation, confident after their successful rescue.

Ernest studied the camp from a distance.

"If we attack head-on," he said, "they will scatter. Aureline will escape again. Worse, even if we manage to capture him, many would die or get injured on our side."

"So we sneak in?" the aide asked. He understood his lord did not want more people dying or getting hurt.

Ernest nodded.

Night fell.

The camp quieted. Fires burned low. Laughter drifted through the trees, careless and loud. Victory had made them reckless.

Ernest and his men moved silently, cloaked and masked, slipping between shadows. They avoided the guards instead of killing them. One by one, they reached the heart of the camp.

A tent stood apart from the rest, guarded by only two men.

Ernest raised a hand.

The guards fell without a sound. Then he changed into their clothes. With ease, he slipped into Lord Aureline’s tent.

Inside the tent, Lord Aureline was studying a map when the blade touched his throat.

"Do not move," Ernest said calmly.

Aureline froze. He never expected his capture to be so easy.

He had been studying more maps and strategies for a few days hoping for a comeback.

Slowly, Ernest pulled off his mask.

For a brief moment, Aureline’s eyes widened.

"You," Aureline breathed. He thought Ernest should be dead or dying since he had not been involved in any battle for so long. He also got confirmation from his men that he had been poisoned.

"Yes," Ernest said. "Alive or dead. Those were my orders."

Before Aureline could speak again, Ernest struck him hard at the back of the neck. His body went limp.

Outside, a shout rang out.

"They’re here!"

Steel clashed. Fires were kicked over. Men ran in every direction.

Ernest did not join the fight.

He lifted Aureline onto a horse and mounted behind him.

"Now," he said.

At the edge of the camp, masked figures appeared—Ernest’s men cutting ropes, releasing horses, shouting false orders.

"Retreat!"

"We’re surrounded!"

"Save yourselves!"

Panic spread faster than blades.

The rebels turned on one another, trampling tents, abandoning weapons, fleeing into the dark to protect their own lives.

A few were captured, but most escaped. Ernest had no plans to chase.

"Back to the royal city," he instructed.