Vanished Sisters: The Lycan King's Slave Island Chapter 186

Sebastian's POV

The tactical genius stood, moving to the maps. "We have the numbers, my lord. Twenty thousand to their five thousand, possibly eleven thousand if Gregor sides with Mordred. But numbers alone won't win this."

He pointed to various positions on the map. "Mordred's fortress is nearly impregnable. A direct assault would cost us thousands of lives. And even if we breach the walls, we'd have to face Mordred himself. In close quarters, in his own stronghold, he'd be unstoppable."

"What about Fergus?" Thorne asked. "He's the real threat. Without him, Mordred has no military leadership."

"Fergus is holed up in Castle Ashclaw," Corvus said. "Also heavily fortified. We'd face the same problems."

"So we're back to the original issue," Blackwood said. "How do we kill monsters?"

"You don't fight them head-on," Elder Malachar said softly. "You use guile. Deception. Poison."

Everyone turned to look at the ancient Lycan.

"Poison?" I asked, intrigued.

Malachar nodded slowly. "I've been working on something. A new toxin, derived from a rare fungus that grows only in the deepest parts of Darkmire Swamp. It's... potent."

"How potent?" I leaned forward.

"In small doses, it causes hallucinations, paranoia. In larger doses..." He paused for effect. "It induces a berserker state. The victim loses all rational thought, all control. They attack anything and everything around them, friend and foe alike, until their heart gives out from the strain."

A slow smile spread across my face. "And this works on Lycans?"

"It works especially well on Lycans," Malachar confirmed. "Our enhanced metabolism actually makes us more susceptible. The more powerful the Lycan, the more violent the reaction."

"How long does it take to work?" Corvus asked, his tactical mind already seeing the possibilities.

"Administered in food or drink, approximately thirty minutes. Administered through a wound, almost immediately."

I sat back, my mind working through the implications. "So if we could poison Fergus..."

"He would go berserk," Malachar finished. "Attack everyone around him. Including, if we time it correctly, the King himself."

"Mordred would have to kill him," Thorne said, understanding dawning. "Or be killed."

"Either way, we win," Ravenna added. "If Fergus kills Mordred, we've eliminated our greatest obstacle. If Mordred kills Fergus, we've eliminated his greatest general and made him look like a kinslayer."

"The other lords would turn on him," Blackwood said. "Even the ones still loyal."

It was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

"How do we administer the poison?" I asked Malachar.

"That's the delicate part," the old man admitted. "It needs to be given to Fergus when Mordred is present, or at least nearby. Otherwise, Fergus will simply slaughter his own people and die before Mordred arrives."

"Mordred is planning to meet with Gregor soon," Corvus said. "Trying to secure his alliance. What if we arrange for Fergus to be there as well?"

"Too public," I said, shaking my head. "Too many witnesses. We need something more private."

"What about a private war council?" Thorne suggested. "Mordred would want to meet with Fergus to discuss strategy. Just the two of them, maybe a few advisors."

"That could work," I mused. "But how do we get the poison to Fergus in that scenario?"

"We have people in Fergus's household," Ravenna said. "Servants, guards. Someone who could slip it into his wine."

"It would have to be someone Fergus trusts completely," Malachar warned. "Someone who has access to his private chambers, his food, his drink. And someone willing to die for our cause, because once Fergus goes berserk, everyone nearby will be killed."

"I have someone," Thorne said quietly. "A servant in Fergus's household. She's been feeding us information for years. She has access to his private wine cellar."

"Would she do it?" I asked. "Knowing she'd likely die?"

Thorne nodded. "Her family is in my territory. I've been... taking care of them. She'll do it to keep them safe."

I felt a twinge of something—not quite guilt, but close. Then I pushed it aside. This was war. Sacrifices had to be made.

"Good," I said. "Malachar, prepare the poison. Thorne, contact your agent. Tell her to be ready."

"When do we strike?" Corvus asked.

"Soon," I said. "We need to coordinate this carefully. First, we need to confirm when Mordred plans to meet with Fergus. Then we administer the poison just before Mordred arrives."

"What about the rest of our forces?" Blackwood asked. "Do we still prepare for open war?"

"Absolutely," I said. "This is our primary plan, but we need contingencies. If the poison plot fails, we go to war the traditional way. Corvus, I want your troops ready to move within the week. Thorne, same with yours. Ravenna, start restricting supplies to the north. Cut off Fergus's trade routes. Blackwood, prepare your gladiators."

They all nodded, standing to carry out their orders.

"One more thing," I said, stopping them. "This stays between us. No one else knows about the poison plot. As far as anyone else is concerned, we're simply preparing for war."

"Understood, my lord," they chorused.

As they filed out, I remained seated, staring at the maps spread before me. Everything was falling into place. The poison plot would eliminate Mordred and Fergus. The mystery of Nathan would be solved—and if he really was the Endurer girl who'd distracted Mordred, I'd have a valuable hostage or a useful public execution.

Either way, within a week, maybe two, I would be King.

I allowed myself a moment of satisfaction, imagining sitting on Mordred's throne, wearing his crown, ruling his kingdom.

No, not his kingdom.

My kingdom.

Elder Malachar lingered after the others had left. "My lord," he said softly. "A word of caution."

"Speak."

"This poison is powerful, but unpredictable. If something goes wrong, if the dosage is off or if Fergus's physiology reacts differently than expected..."

"What's the worst that could happen?" I asked.

"He could die immediately, before Mordred arrives. Or he could resist the effects long enough to warn Mordred. Or..." He paused. "Or Mordred could survive the encounter and trace the poison back to us."

"Then we make sure the dosage is perfect," I said. "And we make sure there's no trail leading back to us. The servant who administers it will die in the chaos. Dead women tell no tales."

Malachar nodded slowly. "As you wish, my lord. I'll begin preparations immediately."