The Rogue System [BL]
Chapter 303 - Surrender

Chapter 303: Chapter 303 - Surrender

The camp was eerily silent after the skirmish. The bodies of the attackers lay scattered, their blood staining the earth beneath them.

Ryan stood at the center of it all, his sword still dripping, his chest rising and falling with the remnants of adrenaline. His men had subdued the remaining intruders, forcing them to their knees. The warriors loyal to the young prince of Farius glared up at him, their eyes burning with defiance.

"Let go of our prince, you bastard!" one of them shouted, his voice cracking with desperation. His hands were bound, but his spirit was unbroken. "You have no right to take him!"

Ryan’s expression remained stoic, though a flicker of something—perhaps pity, perhaps regret—crossed his face. He sheathed his sword and stepped forward, his boots crunching against the gravel. "I have strict orders to take him back to our emperor," he said, his voice low but firm. "Resisting will only bring more bloodshed."

The Farius warriors exchanged uneasy glances.

Their loyalty to their prince was unwavering, but the reality of their situation was undeniable. They were outnumbered, outmatched, and their prince was already in enemy hands.

One of them, a grizzled veteran with a scar running down his cheek, bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. He knelt, his hands trembling as he tore a strip of cloth from his tunic. With his own blood, he began to write a message, his movements deliberate and solemn.

Ryan watched in silence, his arms crossed over his chest. He knew what the man was doing—pleading with their army to surrender, to spare their prince further suffering.

It was a desperate act, born of love and loyalty, and it stirred something deep within him.

He had seen enough war to know the cost of pride, the weight of honor. But he also knew his duty.

"Take them away," Ryan ordered, his voice cutting through the tension. "Keep them under full supervision. If they try anything, you know what to do."

His men nodded, dragging the captives to their feet and leading them away. The Farius warriors went reluctantly, their eyes lingering on Ryan with a mixture of hatred and resignation. The grizzled veteran handed the blood-stained letter to one of Ryan’s soldiers, his hands shaking as he did so.

Ryan turned away, his mind already racing.

He had given them a choice: surrender by morning, or face annihilation. He didn’t relish the thought of more killing, but he would do what was necessary to fulfill his mission.

As he walked back to his tent, he couldn’t shake the image of the young prince—Eric—sleeping so peacefully just hours before. The way he had clung to him, mistaking him for someone else, had stirred emotions he had long buried.

When he entered the tent, Eric was sitting on the makeshift bed, his chains clinking softly as he shifted. His eyes were wide, filled with a mixture of fear and curiosity. "What’s happening out there?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "I heard fighting."

Ryan didn’t answer immediately. He busied himself with removing his armor, his movements stiff and mechanical. The weight of the night’s events pressed heavily on him, and he felt Eric’s gaze following his every move.

"Your men tried to rescue you," Ryan said finally, his tone flat. "They failed."

Eric’s face paled. "Are they...?"

"Alive," Ryan said curtly. "For now. But if they don’t surrender by morning, they won’t be."

Eric’s hands clenched into fists, the chains rattling as he did so. "You’re a monster," he spat, his voice trembling with anger. "why are you doing this!"

Ryan’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. He had heard it all before—the accusations, the insults. They no longer fazed him. "Get some rest," he said, turning away. "We leave at dawn."

Eric’s voice stopped him before he could exit the tent. "Why? What do you gain from this?"

Ryan paused, his hand gripping the tent flap. For a moment, he considered ignoring the question, walking away as he always did. But something in Eric’s voice—the raw pain, the vulnerability—made him hesitate. He turned back, his eyes meeting Eric’s.

"I don’t expect you to understand," Ryan said quietly. "But this isn’t about gain. It’s about survival. My people have suffered enough at the hands of yours. If taking you as a hostage is what it takes to end this war, then so be it."

Eric’s eyes filled with shock. "and what? You’re just going to take me? You cant do that. I’m a prince."

Ryan’s expression softened, just for a moment. "Your father has already agreed," he said. "As a show of honor, he will send you to our empire as a hostage prince. Your men have forfeited the battle to protect you."

Eric’s breath hitched, and he looked away, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

The weight of his situation seemed to crush him, and for the first time, Ryan saw the prince not as an enemy, but as a young man burdened by forces beyond his control.

The silence between them was heavy, filled with unspoken words and unresolved tension.

Ryan wanted to say something—anything—to ease the pain in Eric’s eyes, but he didn’t know how. He wasn’t built for comfort or compassion. He was a soldier, a weapon, and weapons didn’t have the luxury of empathy.

"Get some rest," Ryan repeated, his voice softer this time. "Tomorrow will be a long day."

---

The next morning, the camp was alive with activity. The Farius warriors had surrendered, their weapons laid down in a show of reluctant submission. Ryan’s men moved with purpose, packing up supplies and preparing for the journey back to their empire. The mood was somber, the weight of what had transpired hanging over them like a dark cloud.

Ryan stood at the edge of the camp, watching as Eric was led to a carriage. The young prince’s hands were still bound, but his head was held high, his expression one of quiet defiance. As he passed Ryan, their eyes met, and for a moment, it felt as if the world stood still.

"Take care of him," Ryan said to the soldier escorting Eric. "He’s not to be harmed."

The soldier nodded, and Eric was ushered into the carriage. Ryan watched as the door closed, sealing the prince’s fate. He felt a strange ache in his chest, one he couldn’t quite explain.

"General!" one of his men called, snapping Ryan out of his thoughts. "We’re ready to move out."

Ryan took a deep breath, steeling himself for the journey ahead. "Let’s go home," he said, his voice carrying across the camp.

The soldiers cheered, their voices echoing in the crisp morning air. But Ryan felt no joy, no sense of victory.