The ships started to dock one by one, and in a matter of moments, almost every vessel had lined up at the port. The Magister walked up to one of the ships and stared at it for a long time. It looked as if he were contemplating something.
"What happened, Magister?" Salac questioned, his voice a bit nervous.
The Magister caught the nervousness in his voice but did not say anything about it. He simply continued looking toward the ship.
"I want to take a walk on your ship," he finally said after a few moments of silence. "Lower the gangplanks."
"But why would you want to go on the ships?" Salac questioned. "The ship will be smelly, dirty, and definitely full of insects and termites because of the grain. I am not sure if you would want to go there."
"I said I want to take a walk, Salac," the Magister said. "Lower the gangplanks."
The tone of his voice left no doubt that it was not a request but an order, and Salac had no other option but to obey it. He looked toward the deck and nodded to his men.
A few minutes later, the gangplanks had been lowered, and the Magister showed no hesitation as he climbed toward the deck. Salac followed behind, though his steps were heavy with anxiety.
Moments later, the Magister was on the ship. The entire storage area seemed to be filled with sacks of grain. Apart from the space for the crew, there was barely any room left on the entire vessel.
"The ship seems heavily loaded," the Magister remarked as he eyed the sacks.
Salac let out an awkward chuckle.
"We try to make as much as possible out of a single trip," he replied.
The Magister again remained quiet before he pulled out a knife tied to his waist and walked to the sacks.
As Salac saw this, his jaw tightened and his hand instinctively moved toward his own dagger. Even the crew, standing at a distance, became alert. A wrong move and the Magister would have been disposed of.
In a swift, fluid motion, the Magister plunged his dagger into the sack. Grains started to spill out, revealing another sack of grain behind it.
The Magister nodded, satisfied, as he walked back toward the gangplank.
"Do not waste too much time," he said before descending. "The attack is imminent at any time now. You would want all your grain in the warehouses before the assault begins."
"Yes, Magister," Salac said in a relieved tone. "The laborers will be here soon. As soon as my crew has rested for a bit, we will begin unloading the cargo."
As soon as the Magister was off the plank, Salac let out a deep sigh of relief.
It had all been a camouflage. Two columns of sacks had been placed in such a manner that they made the entire ship appear full. This deception was thorough, covering not only the front and sides but the top as well.
Using wooden poles, boards had been erected, and sacks were layered across them. Consequently, even from the high watchposts, no one could discern that more than one-hundred-twenty men were hidden behind those sacks.
If the Magister had plunged his blade into just one more layer, he would have stared directly into the face of the General of Lord Aeos' army. General Sylvia herself.
Salac exchanged a few glances with the crew. They had to delay the unloading of the goods for as long as possible. Their main navy was sailing toward them at full speed and could reach the port in a matter of hours.
Even so, they would have to make their move before the arrival of the main fleet; it was intended to be a complete surprise attack. By utilizing that surprise, they needed to gain as much of an advantage as possible, while also ensuring they did not engage in a full-scale direct conflict until their reinforcements arrived. It was a daunting task, but with General Sylvia herself leading them, every man felt confident.
.
.
.
While all this was happening at the port of Lys, the situation in the command base of the Lysene forces was in a bit of chaos. The same weary Magister was leading the charge, though this time he was well rested, fresh, and no longer weary at all.
"What message do we have from the mainline coast?" he questioned.
"The same as the previous one," the man in front of him replied. "There is no movement from their side. The camp looks relaxed, as if they have no war to fight. General Sylvia is often seen climbing one of the cliffs, staring at the sea, but nothing more."
"Is she waiting for something, or someone?" the Magister mused.
The man remained silent. The answer to that question was beyond his capabilities. He did not want to remark on any assumption which could prove wrong. Both were utterly unaware that they were being fooled.
Naturally, Sylvia and her men had taken over the messenger birds, their seals, and every other method the men on the two spy ships had used to send messages. What the Lysene command was receiving now were nothing but fake reports.
"And the main navy?" the Magister questioned.
"As per the latest report," the man replied, "they are moving at the same gentle pace. It is as if they have been delaying their journey voluntarily for some reason."
The Magister nodded, deep in contemplation.
"I am certain," he remarked, drawing the attention of everyone sitting around him. "That there is something going on, something we are missing."
"Lord Aeos is no fool. He would surely not send his army this far only to make them wait on the coast."
"Not to mention that the General of the army herself is with them," he added.
Though he was guessing in the right direction, he was unable to grasp what was actually happening, at least, not before a surprise was launched upon his city.
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