Reincarnated into a Femdom Fantasy World (18+)-Chapter 22: This wall—it’s huge, right?

Tazka's dark magic lingered in the air, its inky residue pulsing faintly on the marked locations—Ssyra's prison barracks circled in the center, surrounded by smaller dots of Kalthar guards, Valthera's dozen expendable soldiers a thin line against the sprawling border.

The numbers didn't add up; everyone felt it. Even with Rixa's and Veyra's brute force, Tsyra's skill, and Lyra's magic, the odds of breaching the barracks, freeing Ssyra, and escaping alive were razor-thin—a gamble hinging on luck and a miracle neither Tazka nor her council could conjure.

Yet the resolve in the room burned bright, unyielding despite the queen's warnings.

Rixa's tan fists clenched, her bushy tail wagging with a fired-up vigor, her leather shorts creaking as she shifted, her dark eyes blazing. "We've got this—I'll smash through, grab Ssyra, and we're out!" she declared, her horns tilting forward, her voice a mix of grit and glee. Tsyra stood rigid, her midnight-blue scales glinting, her silver eyes cold but fierce as she echoed, "I'm ready—alone or not, I'm bringing her back."

Veyra sighed, her fair skin taut with reluctance as she bent to the peer pressure, her golden eyes flickering with doubt, her leather corset creaking as she muttered, "Fine—let's do it." Lyra's glowing eyes sparked with enthusiasm, her lace top shifting as she stepped forward, her magic humming. "I'm in—my spells can cover us, hit them from afar!"

Tazka's tail flicked sharply, her gold eyes narrowing as she cut through Lyra's fervor. "No, Lyra—you're staying with Jake," she said, her voice a firm command, her dusky purple hand gripping the throne's armrest. "We need you here—he's too valuable to leave unguarded." Lyra's glow dimmed, her shoulders slumping as she protested, her voice rising, "But my magic—long-range strikes, shields—they'll need me out there! You know I'm right!"

Tazka's gaze softened briefly—she did know Lyra's power could tip the scales—but her jaw tightened, her gold chains clinking as she shook her head. "You're right, but Jake's our asset. We can't risk him, not now."

The room fell quiet, the weight of her words settling like dust, until Jake's voice broke the silence, steady but surprising, cutting through the council's deadlock.

"I've got a plan," he said, stepping forward, his gray tunic rumpled, his hazel eyes wide but determined as he faced the towering women, his hands trembling slightly at his sides. "Something with better odds—not just brute force."

Every head turned, a ripple of shock passing through the room—Rixa's tail pausing mid-wag, Tsyra's silver eyes narrowing, Veyra's brows lifting, Lyra's glowing gaze snapping to him with a flicker of hope. Tazka leaned forward, her smile sharp and curious, her voice a low challenge. "Oh? Elaborate, little bird—let's hear this grand idea of yours."

Jake swallowed, his throat dry as he moved to the curtain-map, its vast expanse looming over him, the shadowy marks stark against the velvet. He hesitated, his fingers hovering over the symbols, until Rixa snapped her tan fingers with a playful grin, a lightweight staff materializing in her hand—a slender, polished rod of oak.

She tossed it to him, the wood sailing through the air with a soft whistle, and he caught it clumsily, his blush deepening as he gripped it, using it to point at the map's border wall, a thick line of dark ink.

"This wall—it's huge, right? Heavy doors, guards?" he asked, his stick tracing the jagged outline, his voice tentative but clear. Tazka nodded, her tail curling. "Yes—fortified, near-impenetrable without a siege." He moved the stick to the enemy barracks, a cluster of circles in the unclaimed badlands.

"Whose land is this?" Tazka's magic pulsed faintly as she answered, "Unclaimed—wild territory, no one's staked it." He trailed north, beyond the barracks. "And Kalthar's kingdom—where's that?" She pointed, her inky mist marking a spot far above. "Four hours' journey north—forest and wilds between."

Jake paused, the map's layout clicking into place, a realization dawning—unlike Earth's seamless borders, Valthera and Kalthar were isolated patches of power, separated by stretches of untamed land, kingdoms like islands in a sea of chaos.

He trailed the stick along the border again, his brow furrowing. "How far do Kalthar's camps stretch along our wall?" Tazka's magic flared, marking a wide, mile-long sprawl of enemy dots, their presence a menacing arc.

Across the room, Tsyra's voice sliced through, cold and irritated, her midnight-blue tail twitching. "Are we really wasting time listening to him when we should be moving?" Her silver eyes glinted with impatience, her emotionless face hardening as she stared at Jake.

Tazka chuckled, a low, throaty sound, her gold eyes glinting with amusement as she waved Tsyra off. "Give him a minute, Tsyra—let's see where he's going. If he's got something better than our brawl, I want to hear it." Her smile was a mix of skepticism and intrigue, her dark magic simmering as she watched.

Jake took a breath, his stick hovering, then pointed to the wall's far edge, away from Kalthar's camps. "What if we slip out here—where they can't spot us—and flank them from behind, hit them by surprise?" His voice wavered, his plan tentative, but the room erupted in laughter—Rixa's bright cackle, Veyra's dry snort, Lyra's stifled giggle. Tsyra's silver eyes rolled, her voice dripping with mockery. "That's your brilliant plan? Flank them from behind? Genius."

Tazka's laugh was sharper, her tail flicking as she leaned back, her gold eyes piercing. "It's a cliché, little bird—Kalthar's not that sloppy. They've got eyes all around the camp, every angle covered. You'd hit the same wall of guards no matter where you strike—the prison's dead center."

Jake's cheeks flushed, the laughter stinging, but he raised the staff again, his voice steadying as he cut through the noise. "That wasn't the real plan—I was ruling it out." The room quieted, their amusement fading as he trailed the stick deeper into the unclaimed land, away from Valthera's border, his movements deliberate.

"Here's the better idea—instead of hitting them head-on, we sneak out this way, circle wide to the road north." He tapped a winding path, marked faintly on the map, leading toward Kalthar. "We hide in the trees or bushes—wait for them to move Ssyra to their capital. Then we ambush the transport party—quick, clean, gone before anyone on the road knows what happened."

Silence fell, thick and heavy, no laughter this time. Rixa's tail stilled, her dark eyes widening as she tilted her horns, processing. Tsyra's silver gaze sharpened, her midnight-blue scales glinting as she stared at the map, her emotionless mask cracking with a flicker of consideration.

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Veyra's golden eyes narrowed, her fair hand resting on her hip, her leather creaking as she shifted, reassessing. Lyra's glowing eyes flared, her lace-clad chest rising with a slow breath, a spark of hope igniting. Tazka leaned forward, her gold eyes glinting with something new—respect, maybe, or calculation—her dark magic pulsing faintly as she studied the path Jake had traced.

For the first time there was a silence in the chamber.

No one spoke, the weight of Jake's words sinking in, the map's shadowy marks a stark canvas for a plan that traded brute force for cunning, a slim but real chance to snatch Ssyra from Kalthar's grip without a doomed frontal assault.

Jake stood there, staff trembling slightly in his hand, his heart pounding as he waited, knowing he'd just shifted the room's gravity—and maybe his place in Valthera—with a single, quiet stroke.