Mist curled along the valley like living smoke, clinging to the lowlands, hiding the Lionarian army from view. On the hill opposite Riverwatch, the morning sun caught the edges of crimson banners, their golden lion symbols barely visible in the haze.
Legarde Regalion stood at the crest, his crimson cloak snapping sharply in the wind. He did not flinch at the sight of Riverwatch's walls, nor the bridge over
the river below. To him, they were not obstacles. They were opportunities.
Beside him, Reid Regalion flexed his fingers along the hilt of his twin blades. The steel whispered faintly, a subtle hum that made even the hardened soldiers nearby shift uneasily. They had heard the tales, destruction at a scale no ordinary man could match, but seeing him stand there, calm as dawn, made the stories seem almost timid.
Astride near Reid, Sir Marigard, second in command of the assault, adjusted his helm and studied the valley.
He did not crave glory. He craved order, precision. Every move here mattered, every misstep could cost lives. And yet, he trusted the plan. He had to. Legarde's mind had already accounted for a hundred contingencies before the sun even rose.
Legarde's voice was low, smooth, carrying across the hill.
"Riverwatch is strong. Far stronger than Stormvale Keep. Any direct assault now would cost more men than necessary."
He gestured north, where the pass opened into Stormvale's heartland.
"Stormvale sits unprepared. That is why we march on it, not Riverwatch. The pass is the key. The family's bloodline, the keep itself... everything depends on it."
Marigard's lips tightened.
"The soldiers are ready. They follow your lead. Reid..."
His eyes flicked to the prince, who stood quietly flexing his grip. "...And you?"
Reid's expression was unreadable, as always. He sheathed his twin blades slowly, deliberately letting the faint sunlight dance along the steel.
"I exist for this moment."
"The rest is irrelevant."
He said, voice low.
Legarde smiled faintly. "Good. Because if Stormvale resists... that is why you exist."
Marigard's jaw tightened.
He had heard the stories of Reid's relic, of the destruction it could bring, but he had never witnessed it firsthand. And yet, here, standing among Lionaris' forces, he knew the stories didn't do it justice.
Legarde turned back to Riverwatch for a moment, studying the lines of walls, towers, and the narrow bridge that crossed the river below. Then his gaze shifted north, toward the pass that led into Stormvale's heartland.
This was his focus. The soldiers below might panic at the size of the enemy, the defenses, the cold morning, but Legarde saw the patterns.
He didn't study the walls.
He studied the men who stood behind them.
"All units ready."
He spoke once more.
"When the signal is given, we march. Stormvale Keep will fall before sunrise. Riverwatch... will wait. Patience will break them faster than brute force ever could."
A horn echoed faintly from the assembly below, signaling movement. The soldiers shifted, anticipation tight in their chests. Legarde did not need to shout.
They felt it, the weight of a master strategist at work.
The march began quietly.
Crimson banners stretched across the hillside, troops moving in tight formation. Legarde divided them into smaller columns, each taking different tracks through the rough northern hills, masking their true intent. Scouts moved ahead, leaving false trails in the mist.
Reid walked at the head of a column, twin blades sheathed but humming faintly, their resonance a faint warning to any who might spot him.
Marigard coordinated the columns, sending runners to adjust routes, reposition reserves, and call forward hidden siege teams. He did not speak to impress, he spoke to ensure everything unfolded like clockwork. Every hill, every ridge, every possible choke point was accounted for.
Legarde, riding slightly ahead, glanced over his shoulder. "The pass will seem easy, but the enemy expects a frontal assault."
"Lead with what they anticipate. Then, we strike where they least expect it."
He tapped the map strapped to his saddle, pointing to rocky ridges, gullies, and old watch towers.
"Feints here and here. Ambushes in these gullies. Once we draw the defenders out, Reid will sweep the center. Let the twin blades open the heart.
Then, the rest will follow."
Even Marigard, a seasoned commander, felt a shiver. Not fear but respect. Legarde's plans were living things, they anticipated human instinct and bent it. Like wind shaping sand.
By mid-morning, the Lionarian columns reached the first ridges before the pass. Mist clung stubbornly, hiding their movements from any scouts that might be on Stormvale's walls. Legarde halted briefly, signaling his lieutenants with hand signs. Columns shifted silently, leaving only the illusion of a smaller force advancing.
Reid unsheathed his blades quietly, spinning them in low arcs to warm his wrists. The hum grew perceptible now, a subtle resonance that seemed to ripple through the soldiers behind him. They did not flinch, they did not need to. They simply obeyed, and the hum became the pulse of inevitability.
A distant horn echoed from the southern hills, likely Riverwatch sending early patrols along the river. Legarde's smile was faint but sharp.
"Perfect. Let them think the threat comes from the south. That distraction is as good as our first blow."
Marigard took up a runner.
"Columns two and three, push into the gullies. Keep hidden. Signal if spotted."
He adjusted his helm.
"They won't see the center coming until it's too late."
The soldiers moved like shadows across the hills, disciplined, precise. Mist and rock hid them. Every ridge they crossed, every bend in the narrow path, was a calculated step toward the inevitable chaos at Stormvale.
Legarde rode slightly ahead, scanning.
"Stormvale has the terrain.
It won't be enough."
Reid's voice is low and smooth.
Cut through the tension.
"The blade sees what they miss."
No one questioned him. No one dared. Even Marigard understood the quiet power of the prince.
The first sight of the northwestern pass came as the morning sun broke the mist.
The banners of House Stormvale snapped in the wind, a proud display, unaware of the shadow approaching.
Legarde gestured.
"Maintain distance. Let the defenders breathe easy. Comfort breeds mistakes."
He dismounted briefly.
Kneeling to examine the rocky ridges.
Using a small stick, he traced paths for hidden units, trap placements, and ambush points. Every boulder, every fallen tree, every slope was an opportunity to manipulate, to shape the battlefield before the defenders even knew it existed.
Marigard checked his notes and whispered, "It's flawless. If they had scouts, they'd already be misled."
Legarde's lips curved.
"And they will be. By the time they realize the truth... it will be too late."
Reid sheathed his blades again, standing at the ready, but his presence had grown heavier, the twin hums vibrating faintly across the ridge. Soldiers instinctively gave him room, forming a subtle arc around their prince as they moved forward.
By late morning, the army crested the hills, now within sight of the pass that led directly to Stormvale Keep. Legarde paused, letting them regroup, ensuring the lines were tight, silent, precise.
He spoke quietly to Marigard, a hint of amusement in his voice. "The first strike will seem chaotic... but chaos is part of the plan. Let them overcommit. Let them think they see weakness."
"Then... we finish them."
Marigard nodded.
"Understood. The soldiers are ready."
Legarde mounted.
Scanning the misty valley again.
"Then onward. Let the storm begin."
A second horn sounded–
closer this time.
Not from Riverwatch.
But from the pass...