The princess disappeared from Leto's view, leaving behind a lingering sense of longing. "If only I could have a chance to meet her," he mused, his thoughts consumed by her ethereal beauty. "Her radiance is beyond imagination, a beauty that defies description."

"What are you gazing at?" Leto's prince inquired, breaking his reverie. "It's time to head to the council and make preparations for the impending war," Reynard stated firmly, his tone laden with a sense of urgency.

"Im sorry, your right!" Leto followed his prince closely after, after a few minutes of walking through the exquisite palace they neared a big door, 2 guards stood in front of them

As they caught a glimse of the prince they immediately lowered their heads in a respectful bow. "Your Highness, welcome to the assembly," they intoned in perfect unison. Reynard acknowledged their greeting with a nod. As one of the guards opened the grand door, the room fell into silence, and the assembly of knights, nobles, and advisors swiftly bowed.

"Have preparations been made?" Reynard inquired, his voice carrying authority and expectation.

One of the generals stepped forward and addressed the prince, his voice carrying confidence. "Yes, Your Highness, we have already issued recruitment orders. Our forces are being mustered as we speak."

"Good, and how many will we be able to muster?" the prince inquired with a keen interest.

"Roughly 50,000 men," another general promptly responded, his tone conveying a mix of assurance and calculation.

"What can we expect our enemy to have?" Prince Leto's voice held a note of concern as he sought to gauge the potential challenges they might face.

The council room fell into a momentary silence as the advisors exchanged glances, each contemplating the question. Finally, an experienced strategist cleared his throat and began, "Our intelligence suggests that the enemy has a well-trained army of around 40,000 soldiers.They are known for their skilled cavalry and formidable archers, which could pose a significant threat on the battlefield. Additionally, they have a network of alliances that could potentially bolster their numbers."

Leto absorbed this information, his expression thoughtful. "And their resources? How well-supplied are they?"

The council chamber reverberated with the sharpness of an advisor's voice as he exclaimed, "Do you dare to interrupt our war meeting?!"

The room fell into a hushed murmur as the council members exchanged glances, some nodding in agreement with Letos sentiment.

Reynard stepped in, his voice commanding, "Every voice deserves to be heard. And you," he pointed directly at the advisor, "if you cannot respect that, then you have no place in this meeting. Leave."

The advisor nodded in resignation and swiftly exited the room.

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"Now please continue, Leto," the prince said, a small smile forming on his lips. "Yes, prince." Leto nodded respectfully. "It would be important to estimate the enemy's resources, including whether they have the financial means to hire mercenaries or acquire other crucial assets."

One advisor emerged from the crowd, his voice confident, "Yes, my spies have reported a lack of significant financial resources on their part. It appears they are in a state of stagnation, which suggests that while they may attempt to hire mercenaries, it would likely strain their resources significantly."

"Great!" Reynard exclaimed, his voice resounding with confidence. "Then there should be nothing more to discuss. I will lead our forces tomorrow and claim what is rightfully ours!" He turned to a nearby guard, his gaze determined. "Inform everyone that we will set out at dawn tomorrow!"

A stunned hush fell over the council chamber as Reynard's declaration echoed through the room. It was a sudden and unexpected conclusion, leaving many of the assembled members bewildered. Whispers and exchanged glances rippled through the gathering, a clear indication of the surprise that had gripped their ranks.

A seasoned advisor cleared his throat, his voice a measured contrast to the prevailing astonishment. "Reynard, if I may," he began, his tone respectful but tinged with concern, "is it not customary for us to establish a more comprehensive strategy before embarking on such a significant endeavor?"

The question hung in the air, a poignant reminder that the path to victory was often paved with meticulous planning and strategic foresight. The prince's intent was undeniable, but the absence of a detailed plan left an unsettling void in the minds of those who understood the complexities of warfare.

Reynard's gaze swept across the assembly, his expression a mix of resolve and urgency. "My fellow council members," he spoke, his voice carrying a sense of unyielding determination, "I understand your concerns. However, the urgency of our situation demands a swift response. We stand on the precipice of reclaiming what is rightfully ours, and time is not a luxury we can afford."

He paced forward, his footsteps measured but purposeful. "We have assessed our enemy's financial limitations, and that knowledge is a formidable advantage. Our goal is to seize the initiative, to catch them off guard and exploit their weaknesses before they can marshal their resources."

Reynard's eyes met those of the advisor who had questioned him, a flicker of understanding passing between them. "Make no mistake, my friends. This is not a rash decision. It is a calculated risk, born from a deep understanding of our circumstances."

A murmur of reluctant agreement spread through the council chamber, tempered by lingering uncertainty. Reynard's conviction was evident, and while the abruptness of his decision gave pause, there was an unspoken acknowledgment that he possessed an intuitive grasp of the situation.

"I assure you, our departure at dawn is but the first step," Reynard continued, his tone steady and assuring. "We will refine our strategy on the march, adapting to the challenges that arise. Flexibility and agility will be our guiding principles, as we navigate the evolving landscape of conflict."

He turned to face the guard who stood ready to carry out his orders. "Spread the word of our imminent departure. Let the rallying call resound throughout the kingdom. Tomorrow, we march toward victory."

As the guard saluted and hurried from the room to relay the message, a renewed sense of purpose settled over the council.

While questions still lingered and plans remained to be solidified, there was an underlying trust in Reynard's leadership—a belief that his audacious resolve might be the catalyst for a triumph that had long eluded them.

And so, the council dispersed, their minds a whirlwind of anticipation and contemplation. As they departed, each member carried with them a newfound determination, a shared commitment to a cause that demanded their unwavering allegiance. In the end, the abruptness of Reynard's decision had sparked a fire—a fervent resolve to reclaim their kingdom, no matter the odds or challenges that lay ahead.