My Disfigured Duke Husband Helps Me Plot My Revenge
Chapter 308: Duty South, Heart North

Chapter 308: Duty South, Heart North

Was he going to sit there with his heart racing or was he going to do something about the situation he was suddenly in?

Luckily the Eirenguardians weren’t heartless enough to leave him as a sacrifice for the dragon that flew overhead. He was released of his binds and could move on his own. However, after being stagnant for weeks, he felt weak no matter how much he tried to stretch or remain nimble.

It didn’t take away from the fact that he was paralyzed with fear. The dragon overhead was much larger than the juvenile dragon he took down all on his own. All he could think about was how much more damage this one could do compared to that.

The blistering skin and waking up only to scream and then be put back into a deep sleep by a mage was a reality he had been subjected to. He still wasn’t entirely sure how long that phase of his life lasted but it felt like a century of hell where there was no beginning and no end.

He only realized he was grabbing his right forearm as if he was actively being burnt when Cian’s voice brought him back to reality.

"Desmond, we’ve got to move!" Cian shouted. "I know where they keep the weapons."

His purpose for being in Eirenguard had changed entirely. He was no longer trying to save his homeland but to save himself.

Finally getting his head on straight, the duke ran after Cian who had gone to a tent normally guarded by a knight. Most of the weapons had been cleared out but the Eirenguardian knights were kind enough to leave behind what wasn’t theirs. Such consideration was hard to get used to considering nothing like that existed in Castille.

The men found their weapons and ran to their horses which had luckily been left behind as well.

Although spooked, the horses were good to ride. However, when Cian jumped on his horse’s back and went south rather than north, Desmond shouted, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Trust me, Desmond!" he shouted. "If you trust nothing else of what I do, please trust this. We will be better off with the mages. If we can bring them north it will be better."

Desmond’s eye went to the north; all he could think about was his wife. The dragon had certainly come from the north and it made him wonder what of Castille. Had it made it to the capital or did it pass over it without issue?

The duke’s jaw clenched as conflicting thoughts took over, but he knew he needed to be more reactive or he was going to get himself killed. There was already smoke rising in the sky from the distance and the dragon wasn’t anywhere to be seen in the sky any longer.

He commanded troops in Montclair. It was time to act like it.

"I trust you," he said.

With that, they both took off to the south.

They went further from the mountainous lands between Eirenguard and Castille. Eventually, the grassy plains dried out and there was more dirt and sand than anything else.

Desmond was aware that Eirenguard had this sort of desert environment, but he hadn’t experienced it himself in decades. He found an urge of nostalgia taking him over, weaved with his desire to fight and desire to protect his wife and his duchy.

They rode as quickly as their horses would let them for hours. Luckily, there were a few wells the horses could drink from or they would be in much worse shape.

It wasn’t until they saw triangular, dark grey tents erected in the distance that they realized they were finally near the mages.

The mages had put a camp on a large cliff and, as the men approached, they saw that the canyon stretched on for miles–the ending wasn’t visible from where they stood. Unfortunately, it wasn’t time to enjoy the scenery since they had urgent matters at hand.

As they approached the tents, Desmond was taken aback when he felt an overwhelming presence and fell to the ground. It was like he hit a wall but it didn’t block him until he was inside of it.

Soon enough, the silver-haired mage they arrived with rushed out of the tent encampment.

"You may come forward now!" Quinn shouted. "The barrier is down. Get inside quickly."

The two men rushed forward, glancing at the sky and their surroundings before following Quinn to where he was indicating.

Even more surprising, the tent they were directed into was covering the top of some sort of crevice in the ground. It had wooden stairs built into it that led to underground.

Quinn motioned for them still and they had no choice but to rush down the creaking stairs and ask questions later once they were in a safer environment.

However, their surprises weren’t over. By the time they made it to the bottom of the stairs, they witnessed an ethereal light take over the space.

There were small mana stones that gradually got larger. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, the caverns stretched further, though they could walk on the ground at that point. At the end of the path, there was a massive glowing stone that let off a faint pinkish hue but it was hard to look at it for too long.

"Is this–"

"Yes," Quinn said. "Their magical weapon."

"Against Castille?" Desmond asked in disbelief.

Quinn glanced to the side and only then did the young duke see that there were mages in robes hiding against a wall where rocks protruded out and hid them from whoever would walk down the stairs. They seemed petrified at the sight of men they were unfamiliar with.

Just like Quinn, they were pale and thin though they seemed far more timid.

"I am trying to convince them that they could be seen as heroes rather than villains in this situation," Quinn responded shortly, his voice carrying a tone that was clearly meant for the mages who looked on.

A small girl with extremely light blonde hair and pale green eyes pushed through the group. She couldn’t have been more than ten years old.

"Why would we want to save people like that?!" she cried. "What have they ever done for us?"