Across the field of battle, cries echoed like a rising storm. “Chase them down!” “Kill them all!” “The cowards are running!” The shouts of bloodlust filled the air, but Edrin stood unmoved amidst the chaos. His piercing gaze remained fixed on the Frostbane retreat. He ignored the clamoring voices around him, his focus unwavering. He waited, silent and calculating, for the report from his aides, knowing the next move would determine the course of the conflict.
"Commander, I have the news you requested," the aide reported, his tone steady despite the tension in the air.
"Then speak," Edrin commanded, his voice cold and authoritative.
"The main force of the Frostbane army remains stationed in their camp, a day’s march from here," the aide began. "They’ve reinforced to a strength of approximately 120,000 men after dispatching this detachment to engage us here."
He paused briefly before continuing, "We estimate we killed around 4,000 Frostbane soldiers, primarily from their Second Company, which we faced in this battle. However, our losses have been significant—at least 15,000 draftees and 3,000 Mana Warriors have fallen or fled. We’ve also lost three Emberblades."
The aide shifted uneasily before concluding, "Our current force stands at roughly 50,000 men: 30,000 draftees and 20,000 Mana Warriors. We still have 10 Emberblades and 15 mages at our disposal."
"Commander, the men are eager to pursue the fleeing Frostbane forces," the aide reported. "It seems they’ve retreated to the fortified camp they established yesterday. We have more than enough men to lay siege. Time is on our side—the reinforcements they’d need to break the siege are at least a day’s march away, or half a day if they all rode horseback. That gives us ample time to crush the remaining forces and deal a devastating blow by killing their leader, James."
The aide hesitated for a moment before adding, "With his death and a first victory in this war, you could declare yourself the new emperor."
Edrin’s eyes narrowed, his expression thoughtful. "Hmm... indeed," he said at last, his tone carrying a weight of finality. "Order the men to reform ranks and begin the siege of Butcher’s Hill."
The aide saluted sharply and moved to relay the orders.
As the aide departed, Edrin turned his gaze toward the distant camp on the hill. His thoughts churned with anticipation. This can’t be all you have, James, he mused, a faint smirk curling his lips
Within hours, the Windstride Clan had established their siege in front of the Frostbane barriers and defenses, their forces teeming with purpose as preparations to storm the camp neared completion.
Edrin strode through his army, his commanding presence undeniable as he inspected the lines. Soldiers stood at attention as he passed, their gazes steeled and ready for battle.
"Archers, prepare your arrows!" Edrin’s voice rang out, sharp and resolute. "Burn down their walls. Mages, stand ready to unleash your fury on my command!"
The archers moved in practiced unison, nocking flame-tipped arrows to their bows. A hush settled over the Windstride forces, save for the creak of taut bowstrings.
"Loose!" Edrin’s command cut through the silence like a blade.
The darkened sky was a lit with a storm of flaming arrows, their fiery trails streaking across the battlefield before slamming into the wooden defenses. Flames erupted along the Frostbane walls, casting flickering light on the battlefield as the siege began in earnest.
Edrin stood tall amidst the chaos, his gaze fixed on the blazing horizon. This is only the beginning, he thought, his resolve hardening as the battle unfolded.
The thundering sound of a rider approaching from the northwest echoed across the battlefield, growing louder with each passing second. "Urgent news!" a shout rang out as the rider came into view, urging his horse to a full gallop. He dismounted swiftly, stumbling slightly as he ran toward Edrin, dropping to a kneeling position before him.
"I have an urgent request for reinforcements," the messenger gasped, his voice strained from the ride.
Edrin regarded him with a piercing gaze, his mind racing through possibilities. Could it be the Black Bear Clan? No, they’re too far east... he thought, trying to make sense of the unexpected urgency. Perhaps the Concorden Kingdom? But that wouldn’t make sense either.
"Speak," Edrin commanded, his tone cold and steady.
"The Northern Dam is under attack," the messenger panted, his voice tinged with panic. "It’s likely been taken by now. An unknown enemy struck in the dark, ripping through our men before they could even react."
A mile away, in the darkness of the forest, a group of ten men lay hidden in the shadows, their eyes locked onto the Northern Dam, illuminated by torches. These men were known as the Frozen Whispers, the elusive eyes and ears of the Frostbane Clan. No corner of Morrava was safe from their watchful gaze or their silent blades.
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The dam was lightly guarded—only thirty soldiers manned its defenses—but it was enough to keep most intruders at bay. However, to the Frozen Whispers, that number was insignificant.
"Alright, men," Venmoth, the spymaster of the Frozen Whispers, murmured from the rear, his voice barely a whisper. "On my move, don't let a single one escape."
The ten men nodded in unison, the anticipation palpable in the cold night air. Without a sound, they lunged forward, like shadows in the dark. In an instant, they had dispatched eight of the guards, their swift, precise movements leaving no trace behind. The remaining soldiers barely had time to react before the attackers pressed deeper into the camp.
Venmoth's eyes flicked around, scanning for any threat. "Finish them off," he commanded, watching as his men eliminated the last of the outer guards. But before they could take out the interior, one soldier was struck down by a powerful blow from a nearby Mana Warrior, whose presence had gone unnoticed until now.
"Who dares attack Windstride territory?!" the Mana Warrior bellowed, his voice echoing through the night, alerting the entire camp.
"I'll handle him," Venmoth said calmly, his hand already on the hilt of his blade. "Finish off the rest."
His team spread out quickly, engaging with the alerted Windstride soldiers, who were now much harder to kill
"Now then, let's finish this," Venmoth whispered, his voice cold and decisive. Without another word, he lunged toward the Mana Warrior, his blade flashing in the moonlight.
The Mana Warrior, sensing the attack, twisted sharply, raising his weapon just in time to block Venmoth’s strike. The clash of steel on steel rang through the night, the force of the blow sending a jolt up both their arms.
"You are foolish to think you can defeat me," the Mana Warrior growled, his voice laced with arrogance. With a surge of power, he swung his blade in a wide arc, a trail of golden energy following in its wake.
Venmoth ducked beneath the blow, his eyes narrowing. "I’ve killed men far more powerful than you," he muttered under his breath, slipping past the Mana Warrior’s guard with deadly precision.
The warrior’s blade sliced through the air where Venmoth had been a moment ago, but he was already behind, thrusting his own sword toward the Warrior’s exposed side. The Mana Warrior barely managed to twist, the blade grazing his armor, but the impact sent him staggering back, losing his footing.
The Mana Warrior’s eyes burned with fury. "You can’t win," he snarled, summoning his mana. His body pulsed with golden light, the aura around him intensifying as he gathered energy for a final, devastating strike.
Venmoth took a step back, watching the flare of power with cold calculation. "You should have stayed in the shadows," he said, his voice almost a whisper.
As the Mana Warrior unleashed a blast of raw energy, Venmoth’s body blurred, his movements a perfect blend of speed and grace. In a heartbeat, he sidestepped the blast, feeling the heat of it just a hairsbreadth away. The Warrior’s attack left a trail of smoldering earth in its wake, but Venmoth was already closing the distance between them.
Before the Mana Warrior could react, Venmoth was on him, his blade slashing across the Warrior’s midsection with a speed that made it almost impossible to follow. The Mana Warrior staggered, his golden aura flickering as blood seeped through the cracks in his armor.
"Pathetic," Venmoth muttered, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. In one smooth motion, he brought his blade up and drove it into the Warrior’s chest, the force of the blow piercing through armor and flesh alike.
The Mana Warrior gasped, his breath catching in his throat. He tried to retaliate, but his body was already failing him. With a final, desperate grunt, he collapsed to the ground, his weapon slipping from his grasp.
Venmoth stood over the fallen warrior, his expression cold and unyielding. He wiped the blood from his blade with a quick, efficient motion, turning his back on the body as if it were nothing more than a nuisance.
"Commander, I'm sorry, but one got away on horseback!" one of the men said, his voice tinged with frustration.
Venmoth stood still for a moment, the tension in the air thick. His icy gaze never wavered. "It’s alright," he finally said, his voice cold and measured. "They won’t have enough time to warn their forces. Now, set the mana charges and gather our fallen men. We move swiftly."
His command was clear, and the Frozen Whispers quickly followed, carrying out their tasks with the precision and efficiency that only they could muster. The damage was done, and now it was time to disappear into the shadows before anyone could react.
Venmoth allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction, knowing that the strike had been swift and deadly
"What the hell? Why would someone take the damn?" Edrin thought, his brow furrowed in confusion. Sure, the manufacturing around it was solid, but it wasn’t anything extraordinary. The dam's purpose had always been clear: to reroute the river that flowed just outside the capital to a smaller river to the east, creating a more efficient trade route.
Then it hit him, like a bolt of lightning. "Retreat!" he commanded, his voice sharp with urgency.
But it was far too late.
The distant explosion echoed across the battlefield, a sound so powerful it seemed to shake the very earth. The force of it was like the fury of a river that had been held back for far too long, now released with an almost vengeful roar.
Edrin’s instincts kicked in, and with a surge of magic, he propelled himself into the air, narrowly avoiding the oncoming destruction. Below, his eyes widened in horror as he saw the wave cresting toward his men, a relentless force that no one could outrun.
The wave hit with the brutality of a crashing mountain, engulfing everything in its path. Soldiers screamed, their cries swallowed by the roar of the flood. Edrin’s heart sank as the massive wall of water tore through his lines, drowning men in an instant.
Then, just as the flood seemed to have no end, a strange chill gripped the air. The temperature plummeted, and Edrin felt a heavy pull of power around him—someone was drawing immense power, far more than what should have been possible. Before he could react, the wild river froze in an instant, turning the wave into a deadly sheet of ice.
It spread quickly, encasing everything in its path. Men, horses, and weapons were trapped beneath several feet of solid ice. The sheet stretched for miles, the once-powerful river now a silent frozen wasteland. Edrin’s eyes darted to the horizon just in time to see the Frostbane army charging from behind their walls, fully mobilized and ready to strike.
With a heavy heart, Edrin landed on the frozen surface, barely managing to stay upright as the shock of the moment settled in. His forces had been shattered—many lost to the flood, others trapped beneath the ice. Only a handful of his soldiers had survived, and even then, they were barely holding on.
"Withdraw!" Edrin shouted, his voice raw with the weight of the situation. "Regroup and fall back to Asline! We must rally there and plan our next move."
His remaining men, battered but determined, nodded and began to follow their commander. There was no time to mourn the dead. They had to survive, and regrouping in Asline, a small city on the outskirts of Windstride territory, was their only chance.