Though it was deep into the night, the town hall was ablaze with light. A military council was in session, with both veteran dukes presiding as equals at the head of the congregation, while all officers deemed worthy sat neatly lined along the elongated table.
Neither of the dukes lacked in intellect or experience, and they were known for running a tight ship withstrict adherence to a daily schedule for the army at large.
But convening such an assembly when the moon hung high was new territory for many of these officers… Surely the dukes had their profound reasons, the attendees mused.
Indeed, the dukes weren't fans of late-night planning either, but after Murphy's departure, there were still munitions to tally and strategies to devise, and so the clock had struck this untimely hour...
Time was of the essence; without swift success at Carnwen Stronghold, the war would trudge into a prolonged stalemate. And dynamite be damned! If the kingdom's reinforcements fortified their position, all efforts would be in vain.
In a war of attrition, the two nobles knew all too well, they could never match the resource pool of a whole kingdom – Ravaenda's arcane artillery notwithstanding, you can't magic food from the ground, can you?
But enough prattle; the focus quickly shifted to the evening's main act: the counterattack.
At the mention of that term, apprehension flickered across some officers' faces – could it be the dukes had lost their patience? A frontal assault meant many lives – potentially theirs – lost…
Others, though, leaned in with anticipation, having caught wind of some promising new weaponry stirring within the ranks. Then there were the dukes' unwavering loyalists, resolute in the belief that their leaders could clear any hurdle or, failing that, willing to lay down their lives for the cause.
Noticing the divide in the audience, Raventa scoffed, "Ease up, gents. We're opting for a counteroffensive because we've snagged game-changing arms – the sort that can bring down walls."
With confirmation from one of the high commanders themselves, the officers' spirits soared. Many were knights in the dukes' service, leading troops that weren't far from being private armies. While the high and mighty might not value the lives of commoners, it was common knowledge that they considered living, breathing labor cheaper than the dead.
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The room buzzed with rekindled morale, but soon enough, a pertinent question arose: If all that brought them here was a new weapon, what need had they for such a grand meeting?
Truth be told, had that been the only news, this day's assembly might have been redundant. The dukes could proclaim the assault upon Carnwen at the morning reveille – such was the decree of war; any who dared question the top brass would face harsh retribution. It was all about asserting the infallibility of the leaders' decisions.
Arwin addressed the puzzled crowd, "We've landed not one, but two, kinds of cutting-edge weapons: one to shatter gates and walls, the other to boost our soldiers' combat abilities in the short term."
His words were heavy with implication as he surveyed the officers below.
Boost combat prowess, just like that? Their ears must be deceiving them – even a single level's increase was significant, let alone multiple.
Although Arwin's caveat about the limit for those above level twenty dampened some spirits, the gleam in many eyes was unmistakable. They all but salivated for the power on offer.
As all gazes locked on Arwin, he proceeded with calm assurance, "Despite various constraints with the second type of weapon, the boost to combat prowess is indeed tangible. Therefore, I expect you to select suitable candidates after this meeting to be dispatched to the main body. The personal guards will train them directly. Eventually, these elite soldiers will form a new unit under our direct command."
Raventa nodded along; the officers digested their words just as the lingering questions settled. The consensus was almost palpable in the hall – Carnwen's fall seemed a foregone conclusion.
Dawn's light signaled the army to mobilize. Oriented towards the southwest, they set their sights on Carnwen Stronghold. Multiple messengers fanned out across the King's Territory's north, gathering forces along the way. And as the days wore on, the combined force edged closer to the fortress's shadow.
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"Crash!"
The fragile peace of Carnwen Keep was shattered by a furious George Bradlay's outburst, "Why now again?" Pacing irately inside the stronghold, his emotions had soured, an undercurrent of fear laced with unexpected resentment against the kingdom, the capital, and even the monarch himself.
"Why hasn't the relief come? Why should I, of all people, be stuck with this thankless task?" George exploded, taking the lord's chair with a wrathful glare as the rightful master of Carnwen stood meekly by the door, bowing submissively, awaiting whatever command might come from the disgruntled lord.
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As of this chapter, character partial settings are as follows:
Name: Wirt
Level: 60 (Spectral Lord)
Age: ???
Species: Specter
Profession: Silencer
Overview: Usually manifests as an ethereal white translucent apparition from the torso up, with a somewhat indistinct face. Features evolve over time, slight aversion to light, voice carries an otherworldly resonance.
Abilities Overview: Master of mid-tier Dark and Ice magics; specializes in intangibility and corporeality—a race-specific skill.
Special Abilities: [Bone Chilling], [Cold Silence], [Resentment], [Soul Lock], [Possession].
A Little Secret: Lately, his spirits have been notably low.