It somehow worked.

Nasition looks at the report in front of him, delivered from his spies in the slums of Pos. Posing as those forgotten, neglected denizens, they had managed to gather footage of Avalel and a company-sized force entering the slums, responding well to Nasition’s letter of goodwill. That was already old news, delivered to him before he went to sleep the night before.

And now, the Elyfesta having just risen from the horizon, Nasition receives a report, titled simply: Avalel injured from duel.

Beyond all expectations, the previously invincible so-called “savior” of the New Rule has fallen to the Black Maiden, his underlings forced to rescue him from an otherwise fatal position. According to the report, the prideful Avalel had challenged the Black Maiden to a duel, isolating her with his troops to create an impromptu arena. A supposedly display of strength and power, to rid of a nuisance that had stalled the New Rule military for so long…

Nasition scoffs as a smile appears on his face. That went all wrong.

The New Rule is incapable of even basic function without a leader. During the few months of instability back when Nasition had broken through the Pass of Elethien, the faction nearly imploded… if not for the sudden rise of Avalel.

The boy once hunted by his troops now commanded his enemies, delivering victory upon victory. Even in that dire state, the New Rule rose from its ashes and began an unstoppable advance west. Four years, four years for them to undo Nasition’s work, forcing him to retreat into those bunkers of the Pass he had once destroyed and rebuilt. The rival factions in the north and south of the Confederation have also broken through the border defenses, their morale bolstered by Avalel’s successes, their inferior armies pouring into the Core Regions.

No amount of loyalty will save Nasition if those factions are to eventually congregate and destroy him.

But now Avalel is finally incapacitated.

The screen in front of Nasition flickers to life, revealing the faces of several generals, each, with one exception, the supreme commander of their respective fronts. Lexial of the southern front, Soroen of the southwestern front, Ruiha of the southeastern front, Unaira of the northeastern front, and Paeil of the eastern front. These are the five generals that now made up of Nasition’s war council, the relatively young Soroen and Ruiha recently replacing their dead predecessors.

Nasition waits for a sixth member, formerly occupied by the leader of Battalion Elethien, but soon shakes his head lightly, focusing on the five before him. The entire battalion had been wiped out four years ago, after all.

“I assume all of you have received the report from the eastern front,” Nasition opens. “Avalel, the leader of the New Rule, has indeed been wounded at the unnamed slums near Pos by the infamous Black Maiden.”

“That girl who adapted our equipment as her own?” Unaira says with a smile. “I’d say she should be recruited into our ranks for her skill, if possible. She could be an invaluable asset against the tide of the New Rule.”

“We’d have to pardon her crimes first,” Lexial replies. “Have you already forgotten the mess she inflicted upon the structure in the eastern front?”

“Always sharp to reject my proposals, General,” Unaira laughs coldly. “Have you ever thought—”

“We’ll leave this suggestion for later,” Nasition interrupts. “Anyway, to return to our main point of discussion, the news of Avalel’s injury is a welcome one. Perhaps it is time for a change in our strategy and a regained focus on the eastern front? That being reallocation of troops and supply lines, of course.”

“With all due respect, Common Leader,” Ruiha questions. “Why are we pooling more of our limited manpower and resources into a front that is extremely difficult to attack but easy to defend? We’ve been losing battle after battle on that front, but we have suffered far fewer casualties in these four years than that single battle at Thille. It is, in my honest opinion, not worth the investment at all—”

“Mind your place, General,” Lexial warns. “You were but a battalion leader four years ago, not even knowing the full importance of the eastern front to the war effort. We’ve finally got a huge opportunity at our hands to turn the tide of war in our favor once more. Twenty one years of war. I’ve served in ten of them. How many have you served?”

“No need to be this harsh, Lexial,” Nasition intervenes. “However, Ruiha, it is indisputable that the New Rule have been our main enemies during the entirety of this war, with the eastern front being our most important front as you know. The New Rule are in this position of power because of their leader, the boy Avalel. Four years ago, we pushed all the way to their capital in only a few months, only to be gradually pushed back after he took power. Now that he is injured and likely incapable of commanding his devoted forces, we can seize this opportunity to defeat that faction once and for all. How many do we have now gathered at the Pass, Paeil?”

“About three to four armies’ worth of infantry, including a fleet of aircraft and several armored divisions,” Paeil responds as she opens a map including the Pass of Elethien and the ruined town of Pos. “It’s nearly the entirety of our forces from the eastern front, the rest either en route, retreating from nearby positions, or stationed in important holdouts. But…”

“But?”

“But the fortifications at the Pass can only hold around a hundred thousand personnel. The rest, numbering around half an army in number, are being sheltered in their mobile encampments,” Paeil continues. “I’ve also received reports of supply and logistical issues at the battalion and divisional level, especially as the fortifications have swelled in number rapidly over the past few weeks. An offensive now when our troops aren’t properly settled yet would be hasty, unfortunately.”

“Do we not have enough food and other supplies circulating in the camps?” Nasition asks. “We definitely have air supremacy on our side of the mountains, protecting our transports and personnel.”

“Theoretically, yes, but there are often problems in the allocation of supplies once they’ve arrived,” Paeil explains. “Our logistical officers are being worked much beyond their capacity, leading to increasingly common misallocation of supplies. Instead of increasing reinforcements to the Pass, it’d be better to send more logistical officers first.”

“So you’re saying an offensive now would be far beyond our capabilities?”

“Yes, unfortunately,” Paeil answers in disappointment.

“Such a golden opportunity, but we’re not ready for it,” Nasition sighs. In the end, his ambitions and hopes are dashed by the incompetency of his subordinates. The efficiency of the Confederation military is no more, now only a husk of its former glory.

“Couldn’t we lure the restless New Rule army into our fortifications with regular dispatches of smaller units?” Soroen suggests. “As you all know, the southwestern front receives the least aid, with only a single army, two or three armored divisions, and a division of aircraft at my disposal. Yet I and my predecessor have been holding our lines well by baiting our enemies into chosen battlegrounds where we can swiftly dispose of them.”

“Don’t forget you also have the support of Admiral Arurl and his navy,” Unaira reminds swiftly. “Unlike the small coastal battlegrounds of the southwestern front, we are looking at our largest front, the balance decided by the Pass of Elethien. The fate of that front decides the northeast and southeastern fronts as well, hence why the Common Leader is personally commanding that front.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“But an adaptation of the same tactics could work, right? To goad our enemies into minor skirmishes, slowly leading them to a decisive battle at the Pass where we have all our advantages, and defeat them there,” Soroen argues. “And if worse comes to worst… we can always use the voidal cannon.”

The weapon that had once razed the New Rule’s fortifications at the Pass to the ground. The object made by the Empire, powered by a collection of mirrors orbiting the Elyfesta in the void known as Shoriri. The tool was invented as a power source to fuel the energy demand of the capital city of Achien, but weaponized once in the war to win a battle at the cost of a power outage in the capital… and the lives of tens of thousands, both New Rule and Confederation.

“No,” Nasition quickly shuts down the suggestion. “The consequences were far-reaching the last time we used it. Because of the recalibration of the mirrors and the cannon itself, the capital city suffered from an outage, and eventually supply shortages in the days after the blast. You were probably fighting in some battle at the borders back then and thus spared from the consequences of that blast, but the power outage severely disrupted our supply lines and even caused a few riots in Achien itself. I, representing the people, had neglected their needs back then for a single victory. Of course firing the voidal cannon can bring us guaranteed victory in battle, but what is that compared to the wellbeing of the people who are supporting our entire war effort?”

“Right…” Soroen lowers his head in shame, realizing the meaning of his suggestion.

“Are we just going to continue as is even with such a surprising and beneficial piece of news?” Lexial asks. “I understand General Paeil’s worries and the low practicality of an offensive, but I, like the Common Leader, see this is a prime opportunity to finally defeat the New Rule once and for all, and in my optimistic view, maybe even seize that magical sword of Avalel’s.”

“Right, that stupidly powerful Anapadeia…” Unaira mutters bitterly. “The Empire really had some superweapons at their disposal and failed to use them when the world rose up against the monarchy.”

“Generals, I have to reiterate: it’s nearly impossible to launch an offensive at the current state of logistics on the eastern front,” Paeil says. “At least not for another month or so.”

“And by that time Avalel will have probably recovered significantly from his wounds…” Nasition sighs. “The reports show he was unconscious after the duel, but his injuries cannot be observed. The Black Maiden also seems to have been injured from the duel, so there will be no second chance for us.”

“As much as I do not want to donate more of my troops to the messy eastern front, it is frustrating to see this opportunity slip before our eyes,” Ruiha admits.

“Is there really no way we can capitalize on this chance…?” Lexial ponders.

“Common Leader, may I ask you a favor?” Paeil requests.

“Go ahead, General.”

“You are currently in the Izatur, right?”

The Izatur. The Confederation’s finest mobile fortress, Nasition’s base of operations, a structure that can traverse both land and sea. Four years ago, Nasition had given the order to fire the voidal cannon from its bridge, the fortress serving as the symbol of the Confederation’s military might ever since its founding. That was where the Battle of the Pass first began, and it was supposed to be the decisive battle of the war. Over four years later, and here he is again, overlooking the Pass now under Confederation control, awaiting the inevitable wave from the east.

“Yes, I am, although only two thirds of the crew are on board,” Nasition answers.

“Perhaps the Izatur itself can lead a charge eastward into New Rule-held territory?”

“And using myself as the ultimate bait to lure the enemy troops into a decisive battle?” Nasition chuckles. “You are more daring than I thought, General.”

Paeil, being the meekest of the five generals on the war council, had always been just a loyal puppet under Nasition. Yet this bold suggestion, implying for Nasition to put his own life on the line, used to only be put forth, and sparingly, by Tevlaia herself in the earlier days of the Confederation.

“General Paeil, are you out of your mind?” Lexial protests. “It’s stupid for any faction’s leader to be at the forefront of a battle, nevermind our own Common Leader!”

“For once I agree with General Lexial,” Unaira adds. “The Common Leader should not sacrifice himself for a battle, an offensive that even you have acknowledged earlier is impractical and near impossible given the state of the logistics on the front.”

“This is really out of character for you, General Paeil,” Soroen comments, with Ruiha quickly agreeing with a nod.

Only Nasition stays silent, amused at his subordinates’ surprise over such a proposition. It certainly has been many years since he has actually led a battle, the task usually delegated to some vanguard commander or Tevlaia. But…

“That’s the point of a leader, isn’t it?” he finally speaks, silencing the generals. “To lead his subordinates into battle, to be an example of the spirit that we have upheld for so long. Twenty one years ago, I inspired the uprising that toppled the mighty Empire in one day, killing the royal family with my own hand. I was a symbol, a true leader of a noble cause. And yet, twenty one years later, I am sitting back, reaping the benefits of every victory and none of the costs of every loss. That’s not really living up to the name of Common Leader, is it?”

It’s taken him four years to understand. He was the most powerful person in the world, but in his paranoia, he had destroyed the Confederation’s finest force and indirectly killed his most loyal subordinate. If not for his obsession to wipe out the royal bloodline, Avalel wouldn’t have even reached this current state.

To protect his power, he had ironically lost power in the process.

It might be too late. The Confederation is exhausted after over two decades of war. The prosperous lands he once roamed in his youth have all been ruined by conflict. In the end, in some strange twist of fate, the world might be about to fall back into the hands of one with royal blood.

But it isn’t the end. Not yet.

“I’ve decided,” Nasition announces. “The Izatur will be dispatched on an offensive. Paeil, prepare as many units as possible to follow the fortress, the rest being on standby in the first few rows of fortifications. Relay that to General Hrenul as quickly as possible as well.”

“Common Leader, you couldn’t—” Lexial protests.

“Oh, and if I were to somehow fall in battle, the leadership will temporarily be transferred to Paeil, and if she too falls, Hrenul will take command. For the role of Common Leader, it will be decided after the battle.”

He looks at the grim expressions of his subordinates. It’s understandable. This is nothing short of a will, something Nasition had never thought of writing in his tenure. Who in their right mind will even think of writing one when sitting on their comfy seats of power, away from all the slaughter and ruthlessness on the front lines?

But realistically, people die. He’s sent millions to their deaths before. One day, of course, Death will claim him as well.

“I assume that there are no objections?”

Silence. Even if they did have any doubts, no one dares to speak up now, only looking at Nasition in solemnity.

Just then, a shrill beep sounds on his display, a notification exclusive to only generals, and in the context of this meeting of the war council, only one man will have the authorization to interrupt the proceedings.

Hrenul, currently in charge of the defense of the Pass, is requesting for an audience before the entire council.

“What is it, General Hrenul?” Nasition asks with a tinge of worry in his voice as he accepts the request.

“Common Leader, our scouts have detected movement from the New Rule camp,” Hrenul reports, his voice poorly disguising his fear within. “I hope this is just a false alarm… but signs are showing the entire army stationed there is dispatched. All of them.”

“... This shouldn’t be possible.” No army will make such a bold maneuver without the command and coordination headed by their leader. Not to mention said army includes upwards of a hundred thousand personnel, being the pride and backbone of the entire New Rule military that, led by Avalel, have brought defeat after defeat to the Confederation’s armies on the eastern front.

“I-I just received a new report,” Hrenul suddenly stammers. “A scout saw him. Avalel… At the vanguard… presumably unscathed.”

There is no response from the council. Avalel, wounded by the Black Maiden the night before, should not even be standing after a day, nevermind placing himself at the forefront, unseen before ever since he seized power over the New Rule. It’s as if the duel never happened, that he is still perfectly well, leading his invincible army on yet another campaign.

What a contrived miracle to reignite the Confederation’s dreaded nightmare.

And yet Nasition smiles, not in agitated anxiousness or feigned composure, but in wry amusement. In a peculiar coincidence of fate, the two leaders have decided upon the same course of action. After so long, he will finally meet the last heir of the Empire, a face he hasn’t seen since that fateful day twenty one years ago in the Paladeia. The former royal guard finally is able to greet the former prince of Achien, not in the comfortable confines of a palace, but on the sandy grounds of a wasteland.

“Common Leader…” Paeil says. “Your orders.”