Rifi left the sparring grounds, his body still warm from the exertion but his thoughts heavy. The sun now climbed higher, its golden light stretching past the stronghold walls and casting long, warm shadows over the bustling camp. The Aemiliana stronghold, though battered, stirred with life.
Legionaries moved purposefully, their voices carrying across the grounds. Those who had stood guard through the night descended the walls with weary steps, their shifts complete, while fresh troops took their places, armor glinting in the sunlight. The low rumble of morning drills echoed faintly, and scouts returned from patrol, their movements brisk and focused. Supply carts rattled through the gates, their drivers exchanging curt nods with the sentries. Even amidst the calm, the tension of impending conflict hung in the air.
Rifi’s gaze swept the grounds. Over six hundred legionaries remained in the stronghold, their numbers bolstered by the remnants of the Aemiliana Clan. Though disciplined and determined, the legion was a shadow of its former strength. Half of its forces had been lost to the recent battles. Another 400 had departed the day prior, led by Edran and Tenex, to secure the central position at Fabia Clan. Those troops would serve as reinforcements, ready to move north or south as needed.
The West Border Legion, like all border legions, had never boasted the size of a full force. With fewer than a thousand soldiers left and only fragmented units stationed along the frontier, their situation was precarious. Time was their greatest enemy, and Rifi knew that the two reinforcements legions from Hepestus couldn’t arrive soon enough.
Rifi’s mind churned as he walked toward the main hall. Why hadn’t Argos pressed their advantage yet? They held the upper hand, and yet their forces were biding their time. The silence was unsettling. Whatever the reason, he could only hope Kaelin had insight—or at least a plan.
Suddenly a commotion near the gates caught Rifi’s attention. He quickened his pace as Kaelin’s figure emerged from the crowd, his movements hurried and his face dark with frustration. Rifi fell into step beside him.
“Good that you’re awake,” Kaelin said, his tone sharp. “Come with me. We’ve lost some legionaries.”
The words struck Rifi hard. “Did Argos attack? Shouldn’t our scouts have reported any movement?”
Kaelin shook his head, his voice clipped. Two centurions followed closely behind him, their green-core mana faintly pulsing as they moved. “No, it wasn’t an attack on the camp. A group of our scouts was ambushed. Only Tessa and Bren made it back, and they’re in bad shape.”
Rifi cursed under his breath. “Dammit.”
Kaelin’s expression remained grim. “They’re being treated now. Let’s go.”
A house near the gate had been converted into a temporary infirmary. The old Aemiliana healer worked tirelessly over Tessa, her hands glowing softly as she poured her mana into the charred and blistered flesh along the scout’s left side. Tessa’s groans of pain filled the room, though the healer’s efforts seemed to provide some relief.
Another healer knelt beside Bren, his unconscious form still except for the faint rise and fall of his chest. Deep gashes marred his back, and several projectile wounds marked his sides. Blood streaked his tunic, but his breathing, though shallow, was steady.
Kaelin stepped forward, his voice tense. “How are they?”
The old healer glanced up, her lined face set with determination. “Their injuries are severe, but they’ll live. They got back just in time.”
Tessa stirred at the sound of Kaelin’s voice, forcing her eyes open. Her words came in strained bursts between groans of pain. “Commander… we were tracking a group… but they surprised us. They were too good—too fast. Voren and Cale…” Her voice cracked as tears welled in her eyes.
Kaelin crouched beside her, his voice steady but firm. “Focus, Tessa. What did you see?”
Tessa swallowed hard, her face contorted with both physical and emotional pain. “A hundred Argos mages… heading for the south pass. An orange core leading them.” She gasped for air, her voice faltering. “Voren and Cale… they didn’t make it.”
Kaelin placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, his tone softening. “You did well, Tessa. You all did. Rest now—we’ll take it from here.”
Her breathing steadied slightly under the healer’s care, and Kaelin rose, his expression dark. As Rifi turned to follow him out, his gaze lingered on Tessa. Her tear-streaked face was turned toward Bren, the pain of loss etched into her features.
As they left the infirmary, Kaelin’s frustration was palpable, his mana flaring subtly around him, a faint wave of heat radiating outward. "Tch, Voren and Cole were two of our best scouts—green cores, no less. Such talent, such potential… wasted." His voice was tight, anger barely restrained.
Rifi nodded solemnly. "At least Bren and Tessa made it back. We have to count ourselves fortunate, especially with an orange core nearby."
Kaelin exhaled sharply, the heat around him intensifying for a moment before he reined it in. "You’re right. But this war has barely begun, and already we’ve lost so many. Half the West Border Legion, gone. Damn it all. Voren wasn’t just talented; he was a fine legionary—I spent time with him." His voice carried a bitterness that cut through the quiet.
Rifi’s jaw tightened as he sighed. "Cole, too. A damned waste." His fists curled at his sides, knuckles whitening. "Argos will pay for this. Greatly."
Kaelin glanced at him, his expression hardening with grim resolve. "That, we can agree on. They’ll pay. They’ll pay in blood."
The rest of the walk passed in silence, the tension between them simmering but unspoken. Both men focused inward, calming their emotions and steadying their resolve. Behind them, the two centurions followed silently, their faces grim as they shared in the weight of the moment.
As they stepped into the hall, the weight of their previous conversation lingered like an unspoken shadow. The silence inside was oppressive, broken only by the faint rustle of maps on the central table. Rifi was the first to speak, his voice cutting through the stillness. "What do we do about the group with the orange core heading for the south pass? I know the plan was to delay and retreat until the reinforcement legions arrive, but something feels... off about this."
Kaelin leaned over the table, his expression grim. "I’ll give you that. This whole invasion—or whatever it is—feels strange. I just don’t see what Argos stands to gain by moving through the south pass or pushing further south of our border."
One of the centurions, standing nearby, chimed in, his tone measured but confident. "Even if they make it through the south pass, it’ll take them days to navigate around Brimstone Mountain. By then, our reinforcements will have secured the area."
Kaelin nodded, his gaze sharpening as he straightened. "The Brimstone Mountain range is our greatest ally in this case. Their route south limits their options. They can’t double back, not once our reinforcements arrive to cut off their retreat. That leaves them with two choices: either spend days flanking us—time they simply don’t have—or retreat back to Argos. But even that isn’t straightforward."
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He gestured to the map, tracing a finger across the marked terrain. "Returning to Argos would force them through Trakea City State. And as far as I know, Trakea isn’t exactly their ally. On top of that, they’re certainly not going after the southern mana veins." He tapped the southern region of the map, where three stronghold marks gleamed. "Each of the main clans down there has its own yellow core mage. That’s more than enough to repel a force of a hundred, orange core or not."
The centurions exchanged approving nods, but Rifi’s face remained clouded, his unease still evident. Kaelin noticed but didn’t press further, his gaze fixed on the map as if willing it to reveal the secrets behind Argos’s moves.
Rifi glanced toward the map and then back to Kaelin, his expression tight with concern. "Kaelin, can we have a word in private?"
Kaelin caught the look on his face and didn’t ask any questions. With a curt nod, he turned to the two centurions. "You two, fetch the Aemiliana leadership. We’ll need them here for a full briefing."
The centurions saluted sharply and left without hesitation, their footsteps echoing faintly in the hall. Once they were gone, Kaelin turned back to Rifi, his tone shifting. "Alright, what’s on your mind?"
Rifi crossed his arms, his voice low but urgent. "We both know which of the main clans lies just south of Brimstone Mountain—Esquliana. I can’t shake the feeling that they’re somehow involved in this."
Kaelin’s face darkened, a faint flicker of heat radiating from him as his anger simmered. "Dammit. Either that, or Argos managed to patch things up with Trakea City State and is coordinating something with them. Though I’ll admit, that seems less likely."
Rifi nodded grimly. "Exactly. But we can’t afford to give Esquliana the benefit of the doubt. If they’ve betrayed us, it could open another front before we’ve even stabilized in the west. Hepestus can’t risk that. We’re already stretched too thin, and losing our grip now could cost thousands of lives before our legions are fully mobilized."
Kaelin leaned heavily against the edge of the table, his fists tightening. "Good point. If we intercept and stop the Argos forces at South Pass, we sever any direct communication between them and Esquliana. That might buy us the time and advantage we need to confirm where their loyalties lie."
Rifi exhaled slowly, his shoulders tensing as he added, "Exactly. If Argos and Esquliana are working together, keeping them blind to each other’s movements is crucial. But my concern is whether we have the strength to stop that orange core and their hundred-strong force."
Kaelin pushed off the table, his posture straightening. "Don’t sell us short, Rifi. This isn’t my first campaign. We’ll suffer losses, yes, but stopping Argos at South Pass is non-negotiable."
Rifi frowned, his voice lowering. "We didn’t even have the chance to properly bury our dead from the last battle, and now..." He trailed off, the weight of their recent losses pressing down on him.
Kaelin’s tone hardened, though there was no malice in his words. "This is war, Rifi. We don’t have the luxury of playing it safe. Retreating here could mean certain death for thousands. You know that as well as I do."
Rifi nodded reluctantly, his voice quiet. "I know. I guess I admire your ability to make these decisions, no matter how harsh they are."
Kaelin allowed himself a faint, bitter smile. "Heh, don’t speak too soon. You might change your opinion once we face them. Now let’s figure out the best way to handle this."
Moments later, the sound of boots echoed through the hall as the centurions returned, Mira and Arin close behind them. Both bore worried expressions, Mira’s sharp eyes scanning the room as if trying to gauge the weight of the situation before anyone spoke.
Kaelin straightened, gesturing for them to join him at the table. "Thank you for coming. Sorry if we interrupted anything, but this is urgent. Take a seat."
Mira, ever the hothead, waved off his apology as she crossed her arms. "Don’t worry about it. Your centurions already briefed us about the ambush and Argos forces moving toward the South Pass. What’s the situation?"
Kaelin chuckled softly despite the tension. "Makes my job easier. But it pains me to ask more of your clan after everything you’ve been through. Yet, here we are."
The fire in Mira’s eyes dimmed slightly as she exchanged a glance with Arin. Then she turned back to Kaelin, her expression firm and resolute. "What’s done is done. We can’t change the past, but we can still fight for the future. My clan stands loyal to the City Lord, just as my brother did. So tell us—how can we help?"
Kaelin paused, his expression thoughtful before it hardened with resolve. "Aemiliana is lucky to have a leader like you, Mira. To keep it short, Argos has sent around a hundred mages toward the South Pass, led by an orange core. We need to intercept and stop them. For this, we’ll need every high-ranked mage we can muster. We only have to hold them for a day—maybe less—until reinforcements arrive."
His gaze swept the room, landing on each of them in turn. "Make no mistake—this is a dangerous mission. Calling it a suicide mission wouldn’t be far off."
Rifi listened quietly, his eyes on Mira as she absorbed Kaelin’s words. Her expression didn’t waver, determination etched into every line of her face.
Kaelin continued, his tone grim. "The West Border Legion has been gutted. We’ve lost more than half our numbers. Among those remaining, we can barely muster 30 high-ranked mages. Bren and Tessa are out of commission, which leaves us dangerously short."
The West Border Legion had suffered devastating losses in the recent events, losing more than half its original strength. Although Tenax and Edran had deliberately taken mostly lower-ranked legionaries with them, the 500 legionaries still stationed at the Aemiliana compound had limited high-ranked mages to offer. Among their ranks, only six green-core mages remained, but even that count was misleading. With Bren and Tessa gravely injured and unable to fight, the number of battle-ready green-core mages realistically dropped to four.
The blue-core mages fared slightly better, with 23 remaining in the West Border Legion, while the purple cores, numbering just over a hundred, offered little advantage in this specific scenario. Taking even lower-ranked mages (brown and black core) into such a high-risk mission was simply out of the question; they lacked the raw power and skill needed to make a meaningful impact against Argos's force, particularly with an orange-core mage leading the enemy.
Mira spoke up, her voice steady. "From Aemiliana, only Arin and I are green cores. We have 11 blue cores and 45 purple cores among our ranks. Of those, I’d estimate 8 blue cores and around 30 purple cores are battle-ready. Arin and I will also join."
Kaelin and Arin exchanged surprised glances, Kaelin speaking first. "I didn’t expect you both to join. I would’ve been satisfied with Arin and some of your blue cores. We have enough purple cores in the West Border Legion to make up the rest."
Mira’s tone sharpened, her resolve unshaken. "If my clan joins the fight, I join with them. I won’t stand aside while others fight and die for us."
Arin placed a hand on her shoulder, his voice low but pleading. "Mira, please. You’re the clan leader now. Aemiliana needs you alive, at least until we stabilize."
Mira shook her head firmly, her gaze unwavering. "That may be true, but I refuse to send my clan into battle without standing beside them. My decision is final."
Just an hour later, the chosen legionaries were assembled and ready to depart, their ranks gathered with quiet resolve. The group of eighty-four battle-hardened mages, comprising 2 red cires, six green cores, thirty blue cores, and fourty-six purple cores, was a stark reminder of the toll the war had already taken. Among them stood Mira and Arin, their presence alongside Rifi and Kaelin a symbol of unity and determination. They marched out of the Aemiliana compound under the watchful eyes of those who remained behind.
The camp itself was left under Tessa’s command, the highest-ranked conscious green-core mage in their ranks. Her injuries were severe, but her spirit remained unbroken as she accepted the weight of leadership in their absence. Beside her, Bren still lay in the healer's care, his body battered but his survival offering a glimmer of hope to those around him.
Tessa’s orders were simple yet critical: if Argos attacked, the remaining forces would fall back to Fabia to regroup and avoid unnecessary losses. They were to hold their position only until reinforcements from the City Lord arrived. Once reinforcements were on-site, Tessa was to send immediate aid to South Pass, ensuring no time was wasted in supporting Kaelin and Rifi’s mission.
Meanwhile, the chosen legionaries moved with urgency, their pace bordering on a sprint as they rushed to intercept the enemy at South Pass. The air crackled with tension as Kaelin led the column, his fiery determination evident in every stride. Rifi followed close behind, his expression grim but focused, his thoughts racing as fast as their feet against the ground. Time was of the essence, and they all knew what was at stake.
The soldiers, though weary from battle, pushed their limits, their mana-enhanced bodies carrying them swiftly through the uneven terrain. Each step brought them closer to their objective and further from the relative safety of the compound. The rising sun glinted off their armor, streaking through the gaps in the trees and casting fleeting shadows on the dirt path. Behind them, the faint hum of the camp faded into the distance.
Their goal was clear: reach South Pass before the enemy did and secure a defensive position. Every moment counted, and the sound of their hurried march echoed like a drumbeat of resolve.