FALLEN | rowan whitethorn x oc

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT - what the fuck is happening

"Report" Lorcan ordered from his place in one corner next to the table, which was placed in the middle of the war room.

Many had refused to use said room to discuss the mere arrivals of the nobles, but Gavriel, Rowan and him had all agreed that there was no space for baseless intuitions in their camp. Fenrys had merely looked away, and the soldiers had no backbone to go against their sayings.

"We have sent letters to all nobles and High-ranking Officials summoned to our camp, and although we have yet to receive responses from all of them; we can estimate that they will all -possibly- arrive in the next three weeks; if the Gods are merciful" A soldier -whose name Lorcan could not bother to remember- said.

Gavriel nodded to him, his arms clasped behind his back. "Thank you. Let us know if any letter of response arrives. As soon as possible, tardiness is the flaw of the careless; and this camp does not need more of those" He instructed, and the male's answer was a respectful salute.

"Start with the preparations. Animals need to be hunted and cooked, plants' growing process must be magically sped up, and extra tents and rooms must be set up." It should have been Rowan, as a Prince, who said that; but Lorcan knew his friend had no patience or interest in the politics or composition of playing the part of a royal. So it was Fenrys whose mouth spoke, and who gestured to a couple of soldiers to follow his orders immediately.

They scurried away to do so, and left only the four of them persisted in the room. There was a stretch of silence after the door was closed, and although they remained unmoving, there was a switch in the air that was noticeable for all of them.

"Shall we prepare our troops?" Gavriel asked, gravelly. Almost dead. Detached. It was the sound of a male who had seen blood, and was already readying himself for more to be shed.

"We shall" Lorcan replied, his mind already doing calculations. How many soldiers they had, how many possible exits there were, how many boats and provisions were available.

"And what, exactly, would we fight?" Fenrys' voiced everyone's wandering thoughts.

Lorcan stole a glance in Rowan's direction, but his friend was too engrossed in his own thoughts. And based on the crease between his brow, and the tightness around his eyes, Lorcan did not want to know what lay under it.

"Well, Cairn is coming," Gavriel announced. "He's reason enough to fight"

A shiver ran down his spine at the mention of the sadistic male. Cairn had been under Rowan's army once, but after relentless -and unsuccessful- discipline, his friend had given up and sent it to his legion. He had only bear with him for a single month, for such cruelty had no place even in Lorcan's division.

He had done unspeakable things to both his own kin and all civilians he'd encountered, and while Cairn was a formidable force to fight against -and the reason why they still kept the male on their side-, Lorcan knew that Cairn was the kind of being that belonged in the Underworld, being tortured by Hellas himself.

"Indeed," Fenrys agreed, his words accompanied by a curt nod. "But he's not the enemy that we are thinking of"

"No," Gavriel admitted.

"Then let's be honest with ourselves" Fenrys had a faraway look in his eyes that had Lorcan's stomach in painful knots. "We have no idea what we are up against, and no matter how much we prepare our kin, we ought to arrange a possible escape. And find a new fort in case we, indeed, run away"

"You said it yourself, Fenrys, we don't know what we are fighting. Perhaps there is no reason to even doubt that this is just a standard royal assembly" Gavriel asserted, like a hopeful fool. Even in the face of their time.