The Empire came at dawn.
Llandra saw them first as a dark stain on the horizon.
A moving mass of steel and banners stretching farther than the eye could comfortably track.
Twenty thousand soldiers.
Disciplined.
Veteran.
And still more than enough to crush most kingdoms.
But as they drew closer, Llandra noticed the first signs.
One rider leaned over his saddle to vomit.
Another wiped sweat from his brow.
Entire ranks looked sluggish.
Unsteady.
The poison had worked.
Not enough to stop them.
But enough to matter.
Llandra smiled.
Jax.
Even from hundreds of miles away, his hand was already on the battlefield.
She raised Starpiercer.
"Archers!"
Thousands of Elven bowstrings tightened in perfect unison.
"Wait."
The Empire advanced.
Closer.
Closer.
Their officers shouted.
Drums thundered.
Llandra's eyes narrowed.
The range entered her mind instinctively.
Wind.
Distance.
Armor thickness.
Enemy density.
Every variable calculated in an instant.
"Loose!"
The sky vanished beneath arrows.
A black cloud swept over the battlefield.
The first ranks of the Empire collapsed.
Men fell screaming.
Others staggered as poison and arrows struck simultaneously.
But they kept coming.
Llandra drew.
Released.
Drew again.
Each shot was a death sentence.
An officer clutching his throat.
A banner bearer dropped through the chest.
A mage struck directly between the eyes.
Then she split.
Three perfect duplicates stepped from her shadow.
Each drew identical bows.
Each moved with the same impossible speed.
Four Llandras now fired as one.
Arrows blurred into crimson streaks.
Dozens died every second.
The Empire's front ranks buckled.
"Advance!"
The human commanders drove their infantry forward.
Shields locked.
Spears lowered.
The collision was thunderous.
Elven infantry met them head-on.
Catfolk warriors darted through openings, slashing exposed flanks.
Minotaurs smashed into the lines like living battering rams.
Above them, Fairies wove support magic through the battlefield.
Tiny flashes of light.
Massive results.
A wounded soldier collapsed.
A Fairy landed on his shoulder.
The shattered leg knit together.
"Back up!" she shouted.
"You're not dead yet!"
He roared and charged back into the fight.
Jax's mixed formations performed exactly as intended.
Each race compensating for the weaknesses of the others.
Every soldier supporting the next.
The United Kingdoms fought not as separate armies—
But as one.
Llandra leapt from her horse.
She landed atop a shattered wagon and fired three arrows at once.
Each arrow split into dozens.
An entire enemy squad fell before they could raise their shields.
A mage began casting.
Llandra's eyes flashed.
One arrow pierced his wrist.
A second struck his throat.
A third detonated in the ranks behind him.
Her duplicates moved around her in synchronized perfection.
To the Empire, it looked as if a dozen legendary archers had descended onto the battlefield.
An officer screamed, "Kill the Elven witch!"
Hundreds surged toward her.
Llandra smiled.
"Wrong decision."
She drew deeply.
The runes on Starpiercer ignited.
One arrow became one hundred.
The attack erupted like a storm of red light.
Men dropped by the dozens.
The survivors hesitated.
That hesitation cost them their lives.
Elven infantry slammed into them.
Catfolk blades found exposed throats.
Fairy magic amplified speed and strength.
The charge disintegrated.
The battle raged for hours.
Llandra moved like a force of nature.
Sometimes on the ground.
Sometimes leaping onto rooftops or ruined siege engines.
Sometimes splitting into duplicates and striking from multiple angles at once.
She eliminated officers.
Destroyed mage circles.
Collapsed supply wagons.
Wherever the Empire tried to stabilize, Llandra appeared.
By midday, hundreds had fallen directly to her arrows.
Perhaps more than a thousand if her area attacks were counted.
Yet even she could not stop them all.
The Empire still outnumbered them.
The pressure was relentless.
A Minotaur captain lost an arm.
Fairy healers sealed the wound before he hit the ground.
A Catfolk scout took a spear through the side.
He was healed and back in the fight within minutes.
An Elven shield wall began to buckle.
Wolfkin reinforcements crashed into the exposed flank.
The line held.
Everywhere Llandra looked, Jax's plan was working.
Not because any one force was superior.
But because they were stronger together.
Late in the battle, a massive human champion broke through the front line.
Nearly eight feet tall.
Encased in enchanted armor.
Wielding a two-handed axe.
He cut down soldiers with terrifying efficiency.
Llandra landed before him.
He laughed.
"So you're the famous princess."
She answered with four arrows.
He blocked two.
The other two punched through weak points in his armor.
He staggered.
But did not fall.
Impressive.
He charged.
Llandra duplicated.
Her copies split apart.
The champion spun wildly, trying to track them all.
Arrows struck from every direction.
One pierced his knee.
Another his shoulder.
A third his visor.
He collapsed.
Llandra drew one final arrow.
"For the United Kingdoms."
The shot ended him.
Cheers erupted from nearby troops.
"Lady Llandra!"
"Princess Darquebane!"
"The Arrow Queen!"
She barely heard them.
Because in the distance, the enemy horns began to sound.
One long blast.
Then another.
Retreat.
The surviving Imperial commanders had seen enough.
Their soldiers were weakened.
Their mages were dead.
Their casualties mounting far too quickly.
And the defenders refused to break.
The order spread.
Withdraw.
Regroup.
Advance toward Solmere.
Exactly as Jax intended.
Llandra stood atop a bloodstained hill and watched the Empire pull back.
The battlefield was littered with bodies.
Smoke drifted across the plain.
Her breathing was heavy.
Her arms trembled from exertion.
One by one, her duplicates faded.
A Fairy landed on her shoulder.
"They're retreating."
Llandra nodded.
"Signal the pursuit."
Not a reckless chase.
A measured pressure.
Drive them south.
Never let them recover.
Always toward Solmere.
She looked to the sky.
For a brief moment, she imagined Jax standing beside her.
Calm.
Confident.
Already ten steps ahead.
A tired smile crossed her face.
"Your plan worked."
The wind carried her words away.
Below, the United Kingdom army erupted in victory cries.
The first battlefield had held.
NorthFolk was safe.
And the Empire was moving exactly where Jax Darquebane wanted them.