In the distance I saw wagons of food arrived. Hearing my stomach growling, I realized my error. Fredrick must have arranged this. If not for him our force would have lost due to provisions. Those wagons would be enough to sustain a few days if rationed properly. More than enough. This fort had a capacity of 12,000, so it should be possible for everyone to have space to sleep, although it would be uncomfortable at best. I now had first-hand experience with this reality. Hard rock made one question whether it was possible to sleep. Still, these people had traveled for a full day to arrive here and would be exhausted. The key to a campaign was food and sleep. Exiting onto the balcony, I called to the crowd.

“Good people! I thank you for your knightly determination in coming here! You are tired, and you are hungry. Justice cannot be fought for on an empty stomach and a muddled mind. Eat your fill and sleep. It will not be easy, but we must do so. On the morrow of next day, we will set off!”

Applause erupted from the mass. It was of such a scale that the ground shook from their calls.

“To Prince Emil!”

Parliamentarians helped to direct and organize the flow of people. Food was handed out and people entered the large barracks to try to get what rest they could. A select group of the members of parliament came to my room to strategize.

“Welcome, Lord Drex, Lord Alans, MP Whitten, and MP Goddings.”

Two members from both Houses had been selected for this meeting as representatives of parliament entirely. It was not common procedure, but too many opinions would make a military plan hard to agree on. Looking at a map of the city, they planned the best route for a large militia to reach the palace. When discussing the assault, Emil chimed in.

“I understand your great desire to directly defeat our enemy, but such haste might chase us towards a wall of cannons. May I recommend a detour?” Not waiting for their response, I continued, “I believe we are in a critical lack of supplies. The palace will have armaments and outfitted soldiers with weapons. In my knowledge of Johann III, he is a paranoid man. Most of his forces should be concentrated near the palace. His generals might advise otherwise, but I am sure the fine members of Parliament know best his disposition towards the distrust of outside opinions. Our best chance is to strike the royal arsenal ten miles to the east and go from there.”

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Through this, it would enable us to gain access to the level of firepower the royal guard has. There was nothing to be done about organization, these men had no training, but with numbers it would be possible to overwhelm. The greatest challenge will be getting through the palace gates and crossing the field to get into the palace itself; once inside it would not be spacious enough for the royal guard to make use of their superior skill. There was nothing stopping a mass of people going down a narrow hall.

The casualties of the initial assault will not be miniscule. Charging against direct fire would lead to major loses in the front line. Fortunately, the palace gates were just that, gates. They were feeble to direct attacks and would break fast. The gate fence was not possible to be manned or hold cannons. This meant they would either be placed on the outside to prevent entrance or the inside to massacre those coming in. They had not the ability to shoot down from the walls like a fort such as this one could; that would be our saving grace.

Past those concerns, there was no further discussion. In depth strategy could only be formulated with a well-trained army. The less control you had over them, the simpler the plan must be for success. Besides, if the peasants had one thing, it was morale. They were a powder keg lit from the oppression of Johann III, and they were ready to explode.

Anguish welled in me at the thought of tomorrow. I hated this all. It was rubbish. Never have I sought such a thing, to fight and to command. Really, I was scared. Who was I to decide how to spend the lives of so many? King? Did a title enable me to discard remorse for my actions? Would I be forgiven for what I did to that guard? These questions plagued my person, yet I must push. Push and keep pushing; I had already walked down this path. To turn would be death. Death had become my motivation; it made my feet continue to walk as I tread this blood soaken road. To show confidence in front of others was a bravado, a sham. I was a wreck inside. Every decision weighed me down more. I felt the burden bearing down as I lied to myself and others. Would our attack work? I was sending men to dive headfirst into a battle I had no surety about. This alone made me sick. Sick of myself and sick of this world. My gut had been filled with dread ever since Johann III arrested parliament. The best I could do was put on a façade. The mask of a leader. I was a Prince, a born ruler. Someone who knew what was best, what I needed to do. I repeated it in my head, this mantra. There would be no time for such thoughts tomorrow. I must be able to react to change and act on it.