Just as Corvus had said, within five minutes, three thousand warriors were equipped and lined up before him in perfect formation. Every one of them was ready for battle, their gaze determined and impatient.

In Bahoz, no enemy had yet heard of what was going on in the camp, and this silence was Corvus' greatest advantage. But this advantage could quickly run out. The clock was ticking against Corvus. He wanted to catch his enemies unprepared, but for that he needed a strategy. In particular, he had to take as many prisoners as possible, because there was so much he needed to know about the enemy.

Corvus ran his eyes over his soldiers. Each one of them was a gigantic war machine, the dried blood glistening on their armor, bearing the scars of previous battles. But it was impossible to completely surround a city as big as Bahoz with so few men. They could control the entrances to the city, but they did not know how many enemies were inside. There was a great strategic risk in holding the entrances and entering the city and clearing out the enemies at the same time.

The scouts had reported that his uncle Valerius was sending a contingent of his best men. But it would be evening before they arrived, and Corvus' patience could not wait that long. The only reason the scouts had come so quickly was that they had changed horses along the way. But it was uncertain whether the reinforcements would arrive in time, so Corvus had to solve the situation on his own.

The uncertainty was not only about the number of soldiers. The city of Bahoz was a large settlement, with more than fifty thousand inhabitants, and Tanar's tribe made up almost half of the city. If Tanar's tribe had made a deal with the enemies, Corvus would have at least ten thousand armed men against him. To stand up to such a force with three thousand men would be suicide in the truest sense of the word. So Corvus began to formulate various plans in his mind.

He looked at the flag hanging from the spear in his hand. The sacred battle flag of the Rhazgord. To unfurl this flag was to summon all the warriors of Rhazgord. Every Rhazgordian who saw the flag had to answer the call. The reaction of those from Tanar's tribe to the flag was uncertain. But certainly if the people of the city saw the flag, a significant number of them would be at Corvus' disposal. Corvus had to enter the city to carry the flag to the center of the city and gather friendly forces. But he could not take all his soldiers with him, because he had to leave someone behind to guard the entrances. If the enemies fled, the battle could be lost before it began.

In the midst of this confusion, just as Corvus' mind was racing with plans, Kragan came to him with silent steps. His massive body towered like a giant. Kragan's face was stern and determined. It was as if he had read Corvus' mind. He waited patiently, one hand on the hilt of his axe, the other outstretched to Corvus.

"Everyone is ready. Give the order and we will carry it out," Kragan said, no hesitation in his voice. His voice was like a sword cutting through the heavy air over the camp.

Corvus paused for a moment, looked once more at the flag in his hand. This flag was the most sacred symbol of Rhazgord. For hundreds of years it had heralded victory on the battlefields, cemented Rhazgord's power. But now it had become a gambling tool for him. He had to enter the city, but that meant risking not only his life, but the lives of all his soldiers. His eyes locked with Kragan's. It was the look of a friend, a brother. There was no fear in Kragan's eyes, only loyalty and determination.

Corvus held his breath and clenched the spear in his hand. "We must raise the flag in the heart of the city," he said in a low voice. "That's the only way we can increase our numbers. But not everyone can get in. We have to prevent the enemies from escaping. I will enter the city alone."

Kragan's eyes suddenly darkened, his lips moved for a moment. "Enter alone? That means certain death," Kragan muttered, but his voice was not full of worry. He was just stating the truth.

Corvus touched Kragan's shoulder hard. "We have no choice," he said. "It is the only way we can win this war. The flag is with us, and so is the spirit of Rhazgord."

Kragan shook his head slowly. "Then we will die together."

Corvus smiled for a moment. All his worries were swept away by the magic of this moment. Kragan's loyalty whispered to him that this battle would be won. Corvus adamantly disagreed, despite Kragan's insistence. His friend's loyalty, the warrior fire in his soul, was admirable, but Kragan should have left him alone on this mission.

"No!" Corvus said, his eyes shining with determination. "Someone has to lead these three thousand men. If you don't make sure that no enemy escapes from the city, all our efforts here will be in vain. We have to surround the city and you are the only one who can do it."

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Kragan's face clouded, his lips tightened with rage. Leaving his comrade in arms, his leader, to die felt like a betrayal. His eyes met Corvus' for a moment, the silence between them a struggle beyond words.

"No!" Kragan exploded, his voice a muffled echo. "If anyone must die, it must be me. I am a simple soldier, you are the future Sanguinar! I cannot let you die here. Rhazgord needs you. Without you, this war will never be won."

Corvus agreed with Kragan's every word. Indeed, he was the only one who could shape the future. His dreams could change not only Rhazgord, but the lives of thousands of people. But this moment was indicative of the heavy burden that rests on the shoulders of a leader. Corvus was a Tiamat; only in the hands of a Tiamat would this flag have meaning. No matter how strong and skilled a warrior he believed Kragan to be, only he could carry the flag and enter the city. If anyone else carried the flag, the trust of Bahoz's warriors would be shaken, and the sacred symbol would lose its power.

Corvus looked into Kragan's eyes with a deep breath. "This is an order, Kragan!" he said, his voice harsh and threatening. "I will go. This flag will only work if it is in the hands of a Tiamat. You will stay and lead the men and prevent the enemy from escaping. If I go and I succeed, all Bahoz will rise up. But not with this flag in your hands. Understand that!"

Kragan knew the truth of Corvus' words, but he did not want to give in to the feelings in his heart. As Corvus had said, for the Rhazgord to win the war, they had to put this plan into action. Bahoz was in the hands of enemy forces and the logistical resources piled up in the city would strengthen the enemy's power. If the enemies took advantage of these resources, they could advance quickly into Rhazgord's territory. Without logistical problems, they could take over a large part of the country in a very short time. This war could not wait to be resolved any other day than today.

Kragan sighed deeply and bowed his head. "I understand... But remember, Corvus," he said, his voice softer now but filled with that deep, brotherly bond. "If you fail, the fate of Rhazgord will be much darker. All our lives depend on it."

Corvus took one last look at Kragan, seeing the worry and determination in his friend's face, but nodded without a word. This had to end here. In silence, he mounted his horse, his body showing the majesty of a strong leader. He raised the battle flag tied to the spear he carried in his hand to the sky, the black cloth stretched with the wind and all the warriors could not take their eyes off him.

A moment of silence, then Corvus' voice echoed throughout the camp. "Kragan is in charge until I come back!" His voice was like thunder, heavy and firm. "You will not let even a bird escape from the city! Understood!"

Corvus' warriors obeyed without a single doubt, seeing the ambition and determination flashing in their leader's eyes. Although it was unexpected that Corvus went alone and handed over full command to Kragan, the sacred flag in Corvus' hand and what had happened earlier in the camp had created a loyalty mixed with fear in the hearts of the soldiers. The presence of the flag silenced all objections. It was a warrior's deepest bond; it was the duty of all who gathered under it to obey without question.

The cry of "Yes, sir!", raised in one voice, was as powerful as an oath to the gods of war. Three thousand warriors mobilized with discipline and without questioning orders. Following Kragan's instructions, they left the camp and marched towards the city's only gateway. Some of them were to spread out to encircle the city completely; the rest were to take up positions in front of the city's main gate, blocking the passages. They would encircle the city like an iron fist; this pressure would put the city under complete surveillance.

When the last soldier left the camp, Corvus picked up the bugle the scouts had brought with a spark in his eyes. Corvus slung the bugle over his shoulder and took the reins of his horse. The wind hit his face, echoing in his heart like a battle cry. He rode at full speed, as if flying towards the city. As the dust clouds rose behind him, there was only one target in his eyes: Bahoz. Entering the city meant untying the knot of destiny. Either he would bring victory or he would sink into darkness with all his hopes.

At that moment, the whole world was silent. Just Corvus, his horse and the wind... And a flag shining in the darkness.