The march took another six hours before we got our first look at the border fortress of Newbank. Large grey stone walls that seemingly reached for the clouds surrounded the fortress. The stone was as old as the fortress itself, which had stood for six hundred years. Not even time could break a fortress built by stone masons to withstand dragon fire. The gates of Newbank loomed ahead, their reinforced iron bands thick enough to withstand a siege engine. Even from a distance, I could see the faint glow of runic inscriptions etched into the metal. Defensive enchantments. Old… but well maintained.
"Hold formation!" an officer barked from the front.
Our battalion tightened ranks as we approached. The rhythmic sound of marching boots against wet stone echoed off the walls, swallowed only by the distant howl of the wind. As we drew closer, the true scale of the fortress became apparent. What I had first taken for shadows along the battlements were not shadows at all, but soldiers. Dozens of them stood watch, their silhouettes unmoving as their eyes tracked our approach.
The gates did not open immediately. I understood, of course, a fortress that opened its doors without scrutiny was one that would not stand for long. A horn sounded from above, deep and resonant. Moments later, a voice called down from the walls.
"Identify yourselves!"
The officer at the front of our formation stepped forward, his voice carrying with practiced authority. "Seventh Battalion of the First Legion! Reinforcements brought for forward deployment under orders of High Command!"
There was a pause amongst the soldiers on the wall as they double checked the validity of his statement. Before too long, the heavy mechanisms behind the gates groaned to life. Chains rattled. Gears turned. Slowly, the massive doors began to part. The sound alone was enough to set my nerves on edge. Not from fear… but anticipation, only now did I realize how much I missed the certainty of war. Life as a soldier was simple, and although this is crazy to say, it was comforting in its simplicity.
As the gates opened wide enough to admit us, I stepped forward with the rest of the battalion. Crossing the threshold felt… different. Subtle, but undeniable. The air inside the fortress was heavier. Saturated with mana. Layers upon layers of defensive arrays pressed against my senses, each one overlapping the next in a complex web of protection. Inside, the fortress was a war machine brought to life.
Soldiers moved with purpose along the inner streets. Ballistae lined the walls at regular intervals, their massive bolts tipped with runic steel. Supply wagons rolled past us, pulled by heavily armored beasts bred for endurance rather than speed. The scent of oil, steel, and damp stone filled the air. Waiting at the center stood the officers in charge of the fortress. Five men stood with impressive builds, observing the seventh battalion. They wore the green and brown of the third legion in charge of all defensive structures within the empire. If the first legion was known as the hounds of the empire, then the third was the turtles. Every single one of them was trained to be a master of siege warfare.
Separating from my squad, I joined the rest of the officers. Colonel Bargarve led the charge, stopping directly infront of a grey-haired man directly opposite him. They stared at each other in silence for a few long moments before the major general's face split into a smile. "Bargrave, you old bastard, you still haven't retired yet?" His voice was loud and filled with bass. The two commanding officers grabbed each other's forearms in greeting. "Ha, you wish, maybe then you can get that promotion you've been begging for." The joking nature was in stark contrast to a man known as the butcher.
Wiping a non-existent tear from his eye, Major General Armen's face turned deathly serious. "On to lighter news, you arrived at the right time." He looked at the youthful faces of the recruits setting up tents inside the fortress before continuing. "But, this is no place to speak. Follow me to somewhere more adequate." The Major turned and walked back towards the fort proper. We followed closely behind him. When we walked inside, I was surprised to see the inside as bare as possible. If it served no logical purpose, then you would not find it here. The utilitarianism impressed me. In my first life, I met far too many officers with a penchant for frivolity.
We were led to a war room carved directly into the heart of the fortress. Thick stone walls enclosed the space, their surfaces etched with dense runic arrays that pulsed faintly with mana. At the center stood a large table of dark oak, its surface dominated by a detailed map of the surrounding region. Small markers had already been placed across it, each one representing troop movements, supply lines, and defensive positions.
No one spoke as we entered. The air itself felt heavy as we surveyed the room. Major General Armen stepped forward, placing both hands on the table as his gaze swept across the assembled officers. The earlier humor had vanished completely, leaving behind only a hardened veteran who had seen too many battlefields to count.
"We've received confirmation from our scouts," he said, his voice low but carrying across the room. "The Yemeni forces have mobilized."
A faint shift passed through the room. It was subtle; no one broke posture, but the weight of his words settled in.
"They are not probing this time," Armen continued. "This is a full assault."
Colonel Bargrave did not react immediately. His sharp eyes moved to the map, studying the markers as if the answer could be pulled from the parchment itself.
"How long?" he asked as calm as ever. Armen's jaw tightened slightly. "A few hours."
Silence followed. Not the uncertain silence of fear… but the measured quiet of men calculating outcomes.
Bargrave let out a slow breath before straightening. "Then we don't have time to entertain speculation."
His gaze shifted toward the officers of the third legion. "Fortress integrity?"
"Stable," one of them replied immediately. "All primary arrays are active. Secondary barriers are being reinforced as we speak. Ballista crews are already at their stations."
Bargrave nodded once before turning his attention to the rest of us.
"Seventh Battalion will be integrated into the outer defense," he said. "Shard breakers will prioritize clearing any unstable zones along the eastern flank. If the Yemen dogs are bringing siege machines into this fight, I want them neutralized before they become a problem."
My eyes drifted to the map, focusing on the eastern flank. That would be the most exposed section. Of course it would be. Nothing in my life had ever been easy, so why would I expect this to be any different? A silent rage began to build in my chest. They were sending us to die. It was one thing to target me, but to bring my friends into this? Through force of will alone I managed to remain composed.
"Vanguard units will hold the forward positions," he continued. "Foot soldiers will reinforce the inner walls. No gaps. No delays. If they breach even a single point, we will be fighting a different battle entirely." After these commands, the rest of the session was spent discussing supplies. As well as the finer details of the assignments. I only half paid attention to their words; my mind was running on overdrive, trying to formulate some semblance of a plan. Yet it was an exercise in futility; I did not know how the Yemeni fought, making it all pointless.
When everyone was dismissed, I walked back to my squad with Alex following closely behind. "Someone clearly wants you gone. You don't send in experienced soldiers to handle something as important as this."
"No shit." My facade of a polite young man was but a distant memory. "I wonder who it could be?" My voice was dripping with sarcasm as I shot him a scathing look. If they wanted me dead, then I would have to show them what a bad idea that actually was. Rage and bloodlust built inside me unrestrained. It's time I show these bastards why I was known as the Black Death and feared across four continents. For too long, I had clung to the facade of Drakkus the sickly prince, hoping to live a life of leisure. However, at every step of the way, I was forced back into violence. They were the ones that decided to poke the sleeping bear, now they would not live to see the result of their actions.