Damon listened carefully. Reclaiming the land without a full-scale war was incredibly tempting. It would save thousands of lives. But he knew Howe would not offer such a prize without demanding sothing equally massive in return.
"And if your n win?" Damon asked quietly.
Howe’s smile grew so wide it looked completely evil. He looked around the large, well-built Benson military camp. He looked at the strong canvas tents and the massive training fields outside.
"If I win," Howe said, his voice dropping into a greedy, dark whisper. "I will take this land too."
The silence inside the reception tent was completely absolute.
Kade, standing silently near the entrance, sharply inhaled a breath of pure shock.
Damon stared at the older General.
Damon replied without a single second of hesitation. "You are crazy."
Damon shook his head slowly. The strategic risk was entirely, utterly unacceptable.
Damon thought to himself, his mind rejecting the offer instantly. "He wants to bet my entire main military base? The very heart of the Benson army? If I lose this camp, my forces will be pushed all the way back to the capital walls. I will lose control of the entire northern territory. It is a foolish gamble. A commander does not risk his fortress for a small valley."
Damon looked at Howe with complete dismissal. "I will not accept such a ridiculous wager. The eting is over. Get out of my camp."
Damon turned his body, fully intending to walk away and leave Howe standing alone.
But Howe was fully prepared for Damon’s logical refusal. Howe knew he had to attack Damon’s pride, not his logic. Howe knew exactly what button to push to make the young Tyrant General lose his rational control.
Howe smirked. He spoke loudly to Damon’s back.
"Your father fought very hard to keep that valley," Howe said slowly, making sure every single word was perfectly clear.
Damon froze instantly. His leather boot stopped completely mid-step.
"He bled in that dirt to secure the borders," Howe continued, his voice dripping with fake sympathy and heavy, stinging mockery. "He built the great Benson legacy with his own sword. He never surrendered an inch of dirt to the enemy."
Howe let out a loud, highly insulting sigh.
"I wonder what your great father must be thinking of right now, rolling in his cold grave," Howe mocked openly. "Watching his only son hide behind the camp walls, completely terrified to fight for his own family’s honor. Letting another man sit on the land his father shed his blood to protect. What a terrible sha."
The words hit Damon like a spear through the chest.
Damon slowly turned around.
The calm, rational military commander was completely gone. The Tyrant General took full control. His dark eyes were entirely black with murderous fury.
Damon’s father had been a legend. He had defended the exact borders that Howe had stolen while Damon was injured. The Eastern Valley was not just a trade route to Damon; it was the sacred ground where his father had shed his blood. It was the ultimate symbol of the Benson family’s strength and honor.
Howe had just insulted his father’s mory and called Damon a coward in front of his own military aide.
Damon could not refuse the bet now. If he refused, the rumor would spread across the entire kingdom that the Tyrant General was too afraid to fight for his father’s legacy. His soldiers would lose their respect for him. He would look incredibly weak.
Damon stared at Howe. His jaw was locked so tightly his teeth ached. He knew Howe was manipulating him. He knew this was a massive, dangerous trap. He knew Howe must have found so incredibly deadly fighters to propose such a bold bet.
But Damon also knew the absolute strength of his own n. He trained the most ruthless, efficient killers in the entire country.
"He wants my camp," Damon thought to himself, his internal voice completely cold and deadly. "He thinks he can use my father’s mory to trick into giving him my territory. I will show him exactly why my family rules the north. I will crush his best n into the dirt, and I will take my valley back."
Damon took a step toward the older General.
He looked directly into Howe’s arrogant eyes. He did not yell. He did not show any outward rage. He simply issued his final, unbreakable decision.
"Deal," Damon replied. The single word sounded exactly like an iron gate slamming shut.
Howe’s face lit up with pure, greedy victory. He had successfully manipulated the young General into risking his entire fortress.
"Excellent," Howe smiled brightly.
Howe stepped forward and firmly stuck his right hand out in front of him, offering to seal the dangerous bet with a physical gesture.
Damon looked at the outstretched hand. He reached out his own large, scarred right hand.
They both shook hands.
It was not a friendly handshake. It was a tight, aggressive test of strength. Damon gripped Howe’s hand so incredibly hard that the older General’s knuckles popped loudly. Howe’s smile strained slightly, but he refused to pull away first. They stared at each other with pure, mutual hatred.
Damon finally released his grip. He dropped his hand to his side.
"Tomorrow at noon," Damon confird coldly. "Bring your dead n."
Howe rubbed his sore hand secretly against the side of his red uniform.
"I look forward to it, Benson," Howe replied, bowing his head slightly in a mock show of respect. "Make sure you pack your bags tonight. You will be leaving this camp tomorrow."
Howe turned around smoothly. He walked out of the reception tent, stepping into the bright sunlight. He mounted his waiting horse and rode out of the camp gates, heading back to his own territory to prepare his fighters.
The reception tent was completely quiet again.
Damon stood in the center of the tent, staring at the empty entrance. His mind was already rapidly calculating the logistics of the death match. He needed to select his fighters. He needed to analyze their fighting styles.
Kade walked slowly forward from the shadows of the tent wall.
The loyal aide looked deeply worried. He had listened to the entire conversation, and he understood the massive political implications of the bet.
"My Lord," Kade spoke softly, his voice full of serious warning. "This is a trap."
Damon did not turn his head. "I know."
Kade took a step closer, standing right beside his commander.
"He is obviously trying to build a vast army," Kade explained, analyzing Howe’s greedy behavior. "General Howe is not satisfied with the southern territory anymore. He is recruiting rcenaries from the outer kingdoms. He is smart, and he has his sights completely set on taking all of the Benson lands. If he wins this camp tomorrow, he will control the entire north."
Kade looked at Damon’s serious face.
"He must have found so incredibly powerful fighters to be so confident," Kade warned him carefully. "He would not risk his own stolen valley if he thought he was going to lose. We must be very careful, My Lord."
Damon listened to his aide’s highly accurate tactical analysis.
Damon thought to himself. "Kade is right. Howe is a snake. He definitely has a hidden trick prepared for tomorrow. But I am not a coward. I will not hide behind these canvas walls while he disrespects my father’s grave."
Damon slowly turned his head to look at Kade.
"It does not matter what tricks he brings," Damon spoke out loud, his deep voice carrying absolute, terrifying confidence. "My n will not lose."
Damon turned his body fully toward the center of the military camp. He looked toward the training fields where thousands of his soldiers were currently practicing with their swords and spears.
Damon issued his imdiate, crucial command.
"Gather the n," Damon spoke firmly.
Kade stood up perfectly straight. He saluted sharply. "Yes, General. All of them?"
"No," Damon replied, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the field. "I do not need all of them. I only need the absolute best."
Damon began walking out of the reception tent, his boots kicking up the dust.
"Call the unit commanders to the main tent imdiately," Damon ordered as he walked. "Tell them to bring the top ten fighters from every single division. I will personally test their skills this afternoon. I will select the n who will fight tomorrow."
Damon looked up at the bright, hot sun shining over his camp.
"General Howe thinks he can steal my ho," Damon thought, his internal voice filled with a dark, deadly promise. "I will make sure his n bleed into the dirt of this field. Tomorrow, the Eastern Valley will return to the Benson family."
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