Chapter 389: SEYIKA’S TACTICAL GEOMETRY

The inner strategy hall of the Galka War Headquarters smelled of stale tallow lamp oil, dry charcoal dust, and cold granite.

Outside the thick reinforced walls, the entire northern garrison was on edge, with heavy iron gates barred and patrols marching through the courtyards every quarter hour.

It had taken Seyika Faraku less than ten minutes to bypass the outer checkpoints and smuggle the seven core members of Squad 25 into the restricted sector.

With the High Council placing the district under martial emergency following the political chaos in Alika, no cadet was permitted within three leagues of the war room.

Any ordinary soldier caught moving unauthorized through the headquarters would have been disarmed, bound in iron chains, and thrown into the holding cells.

Salka had known from the second Sagiri broke away into the western wilderness that his squad would act like hot-headed fools and sprint blindly into the mountains after him.

Now, the core of Squad 25 stood gathered around the massive slate table at the center of the vaulted hall, their dark field cloaks pulled tight over heavy leather armor.

Kiuga, Kaka, Maita, Bukata, Zolinka, Ulekai, and Zazarie had their combat rigs strapped, their weapons checked, and their iron field rations packed in silence.

Banga had joined the millitary innovation department and now that a war had broken out he could not be able to join them.

A junior scribe on Seyika’s team, sorting through battle dispatches arriving from the northern frontier, glanced up at Kaka’s massive, imposing frame.

The young aide stopped rolling his parchment, his gaze lingering on the crest of the Asakana clan embossed in cold-rolled steel across Kaka’s heavy tower shield.

"I still don’t understand you, Kaka," the subordinate muttered under his breath, "your father was the undefeated Grand Zorath of the North."

"Sagiri brought Chief Zaka to his knees in theor fight and left the whole northern command hierarchy in pieces, yet you’re strapping on armor to go help him."

The air around the table turned freezing cold as Maita and Bukata stepped forward together, their fingers dropping instinctively toward their weapon hilts.

Kiuga raised an arm, signaling them to hold their positions before anyone could draw steel inside the command room.

Kaka’s heavy jaw tightened with an audible click, a sharp hiss escaping between his clenched teeth as his knuckles whitened around the leather grip of his shield strap.

The silence deepened across the strategy hall, heavy and suffocating, but Kaka did not turn his head or say a single word in anger.

He simply kept his eyes fixed straight down on the slate map, letting the aide’s words die on the cold stone floor without giving them another breath.

"Sort the supply records, Toka, or go count arrow shafts in the armory," Seyika said, his deep voice cutting through the tension without him looking up from the slate.

The young aide swallowed hard, gathered his satchel of scrolls, and quickly retreated into the shadows of the back archive corridor.

Seyika stood with his dark linen blindfold resting around his neck, his cold obsidian eyes scanning the carved mountain contours with frightening speed.

His photographic memory processed every elevation curve, hidden drainage crevice, and abandoned mining path across the northern territories in complete, unyielding detail.

"The western reports are verified," Seyika said, tapping the edge of the limestone basin with a piece of sharpened white chalk.

"The titan serpent broke Kun Nakia’s blockade, the West stood down and yielded the pass, and the southern host is holding the eastern frontier against the coalition."

"And Sagiri didn’t stay with the southern army," Kiuga said, leaning over the brass railing, "he crossed the border into the Iron Range on foot."

"He is hunting someone," Maita said, adjusting his short-sword straps with a frustrated scowl, "whoever was behind the fall of his clan in the South."

"We don’t know who it is, and he didn’t tell us a name," Bukata muttered, testing the tension on his bowstring, "he never tells us when he thinks it’s dangerous."

"Because he thinks he has to carry every debt on his own shoulders," Kiuga said, "and right now the entire North has search parties combing the ridges for him."

Seyika drew a single continuous red chalk line from the basin into the high northwest crags, cutting across the unmapped contours of the Iron Range.

"He is moving along the low-altitude wind cuts where heavy scents settle," Seyika spoke with flat, mathematical certainty.

"He is tracking a trail that leads directly into the Bleeding Gorge."

Seyika tapped the chalk against a narrow, jagged canyon nestled between two barren basalt ridges, circled by steep overhangs.

"Over the past six months, thirty unmarked heavy freight wagons have moved through that gorge under armed night escorts."

"The cargo was listed as Molakwa forge iron, but the wheel ruts were too deep for raw ore, and the wagons were sealed with airtight lead plates."

"Whoever Sagiri is tracking across the mountains, that is where their trail ends."

"An unmapped facility buried in the rocks while thousands of northern troops are searching the roads behind him," Kaka rumbled, his voice low and heavy.

"He walks into that canyon alone, and he gets trapped between whatever is buried in the mountain and the search parties closing from behind," Kiuga said.

"He showed up for every single one of us," Maita said. "We are not leaving him out there."

"Nobody is leaving him," Kiuga said firmly, looking up at Seyika. "Show us the route that avoids the council’s search parties."

Seyika drew a secondary blue chalk line across the slate, tracking through a narrow subterranean channel beneath the mountain base.

"The surface passes are covered by General Senraki’s outriders, but the old drainage flume under the third garrison drops directly into the lower gorge."

"If you take the flume and maintain a fast march, you will intersect Sagiri’s trail at the mountain drainage cut known as the Viper’s Throat."

"You will reach him where the canyon narrows into the rock cuts, before the trail sinks completely underground."

"The flume is locked from the military side," a rough voice came from the darkened doorway behind the map room.

Salka stepped into the lantern light, leaning against the heavy wooden doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, looking at them like he always did when they were about to get in trouble.

He didn’t give a speech, and he didn’t ask if they were sure about their choice.

He just pulled a heavy iron key from his coat pocket and tossed it onto the slate map between Kiuga and Kaka.

"That unlocks the iron grate at the bottom of the old water channel," Salka said in a flat, tired voice.

"Northern patrols have orders to arrest any armed squad outside the perimeter on sight, so don’t get spotted like rookies on the way out."

Kiuga picked up the heavy key and slipped it into his leather chest pouch, nodding once toward the instructor.

"Understood, Instructor."

Kaka reached behind his shoulder, tightening the iron latch that locked his tower shield against his back harness with a sharp metallic click.

"Squad 25 moves out," Kaka said, turning toward the tunnel entrance behind the archives.

Maita, Bukata, Zolinka, Ulekai, and Zazarie pulled their dark cloth respirators up over their noses, falling into single-file marching order without another word.

Seyika pulled his linen blindfold back over his eyes, leaning his palms against the edge of the slate table as the sound of their boots faded into the stone passageway.

"Do not lose the timing in the flume, Kiuga," Seyika said into the quiet room.

"We won’t," Kiuga’s voice echoed back from the dark corridor.

The heavy iron door closed behind them, shutting out the lanterns of the headquarters as Squad 25 plunged into the subterranean cold.