“It won’t take long. Today, we will retake that fortress! Go forth, proud sons of Dedolant! Restore the glory they’ve stolen from us today!”
―WAAAAAAAHHHHH!!
With an earth-shaking roar, Dedolant’s army hyped themselves to the max and hurriedly prepared for their attack.
Their camps were fortified, and they were ready for any counterattacks or ambushes that might come their way. Essentials like rations and steeds had been secured to safety, and the construction of siege weapons was almost complete.
This wouldn’t be an easy fight. The enemy was well-supplied, with resources flowing abundantly. And to top it all off, whispers hinted that they even had a magic legion on standby. So much for defeating them through brute force alone.
Still, they had to push forward. And they had to win.
In the art of war, they say the defender always holds the upper hand. Especially when fortified within a castle, defenders have the natural advantage. Some even whisper that unless the attackers outnumber the defenders by at least a 5-to-1 ratio, storming a castle is a fool’s errand.
But all is not lost. Attackers have their own trump cards. They can choose when and where to strike.
“Make it look like we’re banging on the south gate, while we secretly target the north.”
“The north gate’s weaker. No matter how prepared they think they are, they won’t be able to stop us!”
The plan was simple: lure the enemy’s defenders to the southern gate, then launch a surprise assault on the north. By the time the enemy realized what was happening, Dedolant’s warriors would already have scaled the walls.
“Fire! Keep hurling rocks into the fortress! Archers, aim for the walls! Make sure those Imperial bastards can’t even peek over! Shower them like there’s no tomorrow until our allies reach the walls!”
As the commanders shouted their orders, Dedolant’s soldiers rushed forward with all their might. They didn’t falter under the rain of arrows, boulders, boiling oil, and flames—these warriors had been through countless battles. This wasn’t the first time they had stared d*ath in the face.
“Ladders! Bring up the ladders!!!”
“Don’t let a single one of them climb! k*ll anyone who tries!”
“Fire! sh**t!!”
Meanwhile, atop the walls, the imperial soldiers moved with practiced precision. They didn’t flinch under the incoming arrows and boulders; their focus remained unshaken. Their duty was straightforward: hold their ground.
“Sir Legion Commander! Dedolant’s forces are making a secret move towards the northern gate!”
“Figures. They’re targeting the north. Move the reserves closer, but don’t attack them as soon as they show up. Stay hidden until they step into effective range. Make them desperate to close the distance.”
Though trapped within the fortress, the 1st Legion wasn’t made up of amateurs. Sentinels were positioned all over the walls, constantly monitoring the enemy’s movements and reporting anything unusual to their leaders.
“Quick! Dedolant’s bastards are heading north!”
“Pretend to panic and draw them in as many as possible before reacting.”
As the Dedolant forces surged toward the northern gate, the Imperials stayed hidden, biding their time. Though they hadn’t brought as many siege weapons as they had to the south, the soldiers here were battle-hardened veterans.
“This is it! The Imperials are losing focus. Strike now! Push into the fortress!”
“For the glory of Dedolant! For the Deo people!”
“Move! Move! March bravely toward d*ath if you must!”
With unmatched ferocity, Dedolant’s forces descended upon the northern gate. Right as they reached the walls, the Imperial soldiers, who’d been lying in wait, suddenly appeared.
“Smite those wicked sc*m with fire!”
“Welcome to hell, maggot bastards!!”
“Fire! Rain it down!!!”
A storm of black arrows and burning oil descended from the walls, turning the battlefield into a literal inferno. Screams and cries of agony filled the air as men fell like flies.
And yet, in this world, no one batted an eyelash over the fleeting nature of life.
“d*mn it! Fall back! This is madness!”
The momentum of battle is fickle. Once broken, it ceases to be an attack altogether. It just becomes a futile sacrifice of one’s troops.
As Dedolant’s forces retreated, thunderous cheers erupted from within Setongrad. Despite the fear and uncertainty of a prolonged siege, this small victory reminded them why they were fighting: to persevere and endure, no matter the cost.
This was the first chapter in what would become a brutal winter siege, spanning months. And for now, the Empire had triumphed. The battle had been a one-sided slaughter.
But nothing was certain yet. After all, this was only the beginning. The prelude to deeper, darker chaos.
All that remained was in the hands of a lone strategist.
—
Back at Ross Tannika, news from the Empire brought both relief and trepidation. The bill for materiel support had finally been passed—and guess who was the lucky recipient? That’s right, none other than Ross Tannika itself.
Instead of a straightforward exchange of gold for goods, the Empire opted for a pay-later deal. The first shipment had arrived without delay, exceeding all expectations.
At first, Ross Tannika hadn’t been optimistic. After all, supplies couldn’t travel freely as long as Dedolant’s forces blocked the frontlines. When rumors reached them of a crushing Imperial defeat, dread gripped their leaders. What if Dedolant’s main force turned their sights on Ross Tannika next?
But fate played its hand. Though victorious, Dedolant’s forces found themselves bogged down, constantly called away to other fronts before they could reorganize properly. It seemed someone else was orchestrating events behind the scenes.
It wasn’t long before the Empire reached out to Ross Tannika with a proposal. Supplies would flow freely, and payment could be arranged later—all they had to do was keep fighting Dedolant and provide aid to the resistance in Dugal and Benito.
Praise upon praise poured out from Ross Tannika’s leaders. To them, this aid felt like a miracle. They even promised to secure the coastlines of both Dugal and Benito in exchange.
And so, one month later, an impressive convoy of supply-laden ships from the Empire arrived at the Ross Tannika harbor.
“Welcome, sailors of the Imperial Navy! Ross Tannika has eagerly awaited this day!”
Under the escort of the Ross Tannika navy, the Empire’s ships docked, and their cargo poured out onto the docks. Weapons and armor crafted from high-grade steel gleamed in the sunlight, dazzling the local soldiers whose supplies had been dwindling for far too long.
But the biggest surprise lay in what the Empire sent beyond mere military equipment. Packages containing materials to construct teleportation circles arrived, accompanied by dozens of Imperial mages.
Teleportation circles! The ultimate magical artifact that could transport people across the continent in an instant. Though incapable of moving large numbers, they were invaluable for dispatching envoys or messages.
It was common knowledge that Ross Tannika had been planning to build one themselves. But with their own national circles limited to a mere four, expanding to a foreign land seemed an impossible stretch.
So to see the Empire not only foot the bill but volunteer their mages too? Absolutely mind-blowing.
“His Majesty the Emperor looks forward to a future filled with dialogue and cooperation between the Empire and Ross Tannika. These supplies are but a gift of his goodwill.”
Ross Tannika couldn’t help but feel both honored and uneasy. While the aid was undoubtedly generous, there was an underlying implication of expectations to come.
“How… generous indeed. Though I must wonder… why has the Empire gone so far as to set up a teleportation circle for us?”
“Well, they did say there’s much the Empire hopes to discuss with you. A reliable line of communication will facilitate those discussions.”
“Ah… and while we’re on the topic, His Majesty also intends to honor his gratitude for your continued struggle. An esteemed dignitary will be visiting Ross Tannika in the near future.”
“An esteemed dignitary?”
“The Chief of the Imperial Staff and Acting Chief of Staff of the 1st Legion… none other than Kael Klauwitz.”
What?!
Kael Klauwitz? Yes, that Kael Klauwitz—the legendary strategist who had outwitted even the famed Prince Georg of Dedolant, forcing him to retreat without a fight. The man who, by rumor, singlehandedly orchestrated the entirety of the Empire’s campaigns despite being only in his twenties.
And he was coming to Ross Tannika personally?
“To thank us in person? Surely, the Empire wouldn’t risk sending such a key figure out here just for pleasantries, would they?”
The representative’s smile seemed to say, Wouldn’t you like to know?
“Hmm….”
The delegation’s mind raced: was there more to this visit than met the eye? Had they bitten off more than they could chew by accepting Imperial aid? Was there a hidden agenda?
Days of suspicion later, the Empire finally completed the construction of the teleportation circle. Then, mere days after, the circle lit up, and Kael Klauwitz appeared.
