Alaric stood over the large map spread across the table, the flickering lamplight casting long shadows across the terrain of the Eastern Duchy.

  He had already devised a plan with his council, a strategy honed by hours of debate, considering every ounce of strength he possessed and every limitation he faced. It was a simple plan, but its simplicity was its danger.

  Throughout the preparation, Alaric had been in continuous contact with Duke Thorne. The magical communication lines buzzed with updates. The situation in the Kingdom was deteriorating rapidly. Prince Lucian hadn't officially announced the war yet, but it was clear as day. According to the informants from the Silver Serpent, most of the nobles supporting the Royalist faction had already gathered in the Capital, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

  But amidst the tension of looming war, there was a small, quiet solace.

  Alaric looked at the bracelet on his wrist. It pulsed faintly. He had been keeping in contact with Lucia daily. It had become a ritual, a few minutes of message every night before sleep. In the suffocating pressure of command, Alaric found it quite refreshing to hear about her day, her safety, and her voice, even if only through codes.

  The scene shifted to the dense treeline overlooking Larethin City, the stronghold of the Eastern Duke.

  A man, dressed in camouflage that blended perfectly with the forest, lay flat on his stomach. He was an elite scout from Haven. He had been there for days, watching, waiting, and counting.

  Below him, the massive iron gates of Larethin City groaned open.

  A river of steel poured out. Thousands upon thousands of soldiers, cavalry, mages & siege engines marched onto the main road, heading west towards Haven.

  The scout waited until the vanguard passed, then the main body, then the supply train. Once he verified the sheer scale of the movement, he scrambled backward, moving silently until he was deep enough in the forest to run.

  He sprinted through the trees, his breath misting in the cold air.

  After an hour of running, he broke into a clearing. It wasn't just a clearing but a hidden military camp. Thousands of tents were camouflaged under the canopy, invisible from the main roads.

  The scout rushed to the command tent.

  "Sir!" he panted, saluting. "I have verified. Duke Larethin's main army has started marching. They are moving towards Haven."

  Alaric, standing by the entrance, nodded slowly. "Good. We will wait two more days until they are further away from the city."

  Commander Orban, standing beside him with his arms crossed, let out a rough laugh. "They are chasing an empty ghost."

  He looked at Alaric with genuine admiration. "Lord Alaric, it seems your plan is working nicely."

  The logistics behind this camp were nothing short of a miracle, made possible only by the SKYHAMMER.

  Larethin City was almost 300 kilometers away from Haven. For a normal army, that was a march of days. But Alaric had changed the rules of engagement.

  His airship could station around 80 men comfortably for living quarters, but for transport? By removing the bunks and packing them in, it could transport 300 soldiers at once.

  With a top travel speed of 200 km/h, the airship could make the trip in just over an hour. Allowing for loading and unloading, they could transport a battalion every four hours.

  Over the last three days, Alaric had run the airship ragged with continuous round trips, day and night. He had successfully transported his entire 5,000-strong conscripted army right under Larethin’s nose, stationing them in this empty forest just kilometers from the Duke’s capital.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  They waited patiently for Larethin to take his main force of his elites, his knights, his best commanders and march them out to attack Alaric’s "defenseless" domain.

  Alaric planned to take over the whole of Larethin City itself, which would now be empty of its fighting force and utterly defenseless.

  Two days passed. The reports confirmed that Larethin was now too far to turn back quickly.

  "Alaric's plan commenced beautifully," Alaric thought to himself as he strapped on his sword. "Duke Thorne is already halfway towards the Capital. We can't lose to him."

  He walked out of the tent and climbed onto a makeshift wooden podium. Before him, 5,000 soldiers stood in formation. They were conscripts: farmers, bakers, refugees but they held their spears with the grip of veterans.

  Alaric took a deep breath and screamed, amplifying his voice with wind magic.

  "We will take what is rightfully ours!"

  His voice echoed through the forest.

  "Our freedom to live! To survive with honest hard work! It was constantly attacked again and again by the Duke and the Mad Prince! They taxed us, they starved us, and now they march to burn our homes!"

  He looked into their eyes.

  "Now they have crossed all limits. They are trying to annihilate everyone—your families, your hard work, your future. Will we let them do it?!"

  "NOOOO!"

  The scream from the army was unified, a guttural roar of defiance that shook the trees.

  "We will fight back!" Alaric roared. "And we will fight for what is justly ours! My soldiers, this is our time! MARCH!"

  "HUUAAA!"

  The attack was swift and brutal.

  Larethin City had less than one thousand soldiers left to guard the walls which were mostly old men and new recruits. They never stood a chance.

  The Skyhammer descended from the clouds like a wrathful god. Its main cannon fired once.

  BOOM.

  The main gate disintegrated. The walls crumbled, creating a massive path of rubble.

  Alaric’s 5,000 soldiers poured into the breach. There was barely a fight. The defenders, terrified by the airship and outnumbered five to one, surrendered or fled.

  Within the first four hours of the assault, Larethin City had fallen. The banner of Haven was raised over the Duke’s keep.

  Alaric stood in Larethin’s personal study, looking at the luxury around him. He turned to Orban.

  "Let one go," Alaric ordered coldly.

  "My Lord?"

  "Deliberately let an informant escape," Alaric explained. "Let him ride to Larethin. Let him know that his city is occupied by my force. It will force them to break the siege of their own city."

  Alaric laughed, a dark sound. He looked at his council, his expression looked furious but satisfied.

  "Yup, Duke Larethin... you will pay."

  Three days of march to the east, the massive army of the East was moving sluggishly towards Haven.

  Duke Larethin sat in his luxurious caravan, sipping wine, confident in his victory. He outnumbered Alaric heavily. He would crush the upstart Viscount and take the port for himself.

  Suddenly, commotion erupted outside.

  "Sir! Stop the march!"

  A soldier, ragged and covered in mud, burst through the lines. The officers grabbed him, dragging him towards Larethin’s carriage.

  The Duke opened the door, annoyed. "What is this?"

  "Your Grace..." the soldier wheezed, falling to his knees. "The city... the city has fallen."

  "Huh?" The Duke’s face was reactionless, his brain refusing to process the words. "What do you mean?"

  "It seems... after you marched the army... Viscount Alaric just came out of nowhere," the soldier stammered, his eyes wide with trauma. "He overwhelmed the city's defenses. He took it over. He is in your castle, Your Grace."

  Larethin blinked. "Hey... are you sane in mind?" he asked, dumbfounded. "Alaric is in Haven. We are marching to Haven."

  "That guy... Sir, I survived barely," the soldier cried. "I came here as fast as I could. It's already been a day since they took the walls!"

  Larethin’s face slowly turned from confusion to shock, and finally, to pure terror.

  He realized it now. The silence. The lack of scouts. The reason why Alaric hadn't made any move to confront them in the field. He tried not to trust this one soldier but the genuine shock in his face made him believe the soldier.

  He was behind me.

  "This is bad," Larethin thought, his stomach dropping. "He has my supplies. He has my gold. He has my home."

  He looked at the soldier and knew he wasn't lying.

  Larethin scrambled out of the carriage, screaming at the top of his lungs.

  "Turn back! Turn the army around!"

  The soldiers looked at him, dumbfounded.

  "We have to take our city back!" Duke Larethin screamed towards his Knight Commander, his voice cracking with panic. "MOVE!"