Chapter 19: Counter attack I
The white cover that had buried the Leo Principality for many months was finally fading away.
Under the weak but growing sun of early spring, the thick snow on the walls of Arthenburg began to melt. Water dripped down onto the stone roads below, one drop at a time, smelled of wet dirt and new roots waking beneath the ground.
In any other year, this would have been a sign of hope. Farmers would prepare their fields. Life would begin again.
But this year was different.
As the snow melted, it revealed trenches, broken ground, and a land ready for war.
It had been a month and a half since the Battle of Arthenburg. The anticipated second wave of the Imperial invasion had never materialized. The horizon remained clear of the black banners of the Kalian Empire.
Grand Prince Alexius stood before the massive strategic map in the War Room, his violet eyes tracing the borders of his fractured nation. The silence from the enemy was not a mercy; it was strategic plan for them.
Using the Grand Strategic View, along with reports from Vane's Nightwatch agents, the truth became clear in Alexius's mind.
The Kalian Empire was powerful.
But even a giant could not fight everyone at the same time.
Far to the west, the Empire was locked in a growing war against the Republic Alliance. That war was eating up soldiers, weapons, and supplies.
To the north, another great power was causing trouble. The Frost Giants of Nordgaard were attacking the Empire's borders, forcing it to split its strength.
And to the east of the Leo Principality stood the Federation of Libertas—a rich land of merchants. It had endless money and a massive mercenary army, strong enough to stand against entire nations.
The Empire was stretched thin.
The Empire had stopped its advance because they did not want to share a direct border with the Federation yet. They viewed the remnant of the Leo territories—the Capital and the South—as a convenient buffer zone. They had already achieved their primary strategic objectives: the Iron Mines of the North and the breadbasket farmlands. They had secured the resources needed to fuel their other wars. In their arrogance, they believed the "usurper prince" was nothing more than a cornered rat, content to rule over a pile of rubble while they digested his territory.
That arrogance gave Alexius the one thing he could never create on his own: time and he did not waste a single moment of it.
The capital, Arthenburg, had changed completely. It had become a giant fortress and workshop combined. Day and night, smoke poured from the industrial district, rising in dark columns that dirtied the bright spring sky.
From dawn until long after sunset, the sound of metal rang through the streets.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
The Royal Workshop never slept.That steady rhythm became the city's new heartbeat—a reminder to everyone inside the walls that the next war was already being prepared.
The production of the Earth Shaker cannons had finally settled.
Ten cannons now rested inside the royal armory, another ten were still being worked on with the restless labor of Thorgar Ironhand, his dwarves and refugees who had skilled in black smith, employed by the crown. The musket workshops had done even better than expected.
Copper roofs were stripped from noble houses. Bronze statues of past kings were torn down and melted. Nothing was spared. From that sacrifice, the forges produced one thousand five hundred working matchlock muskets.
The 1st Royal Musket Battalion was born.
The battalion was made up of veterans—former soldiers of the Silver Legion, men who had survived real battle. They were now reorganized and led by Lieutenant Colonel Viscount Comwell Esparia
They wore plain grey coats, dyed with cheap root ink. Leather straps crossed their chests, holding powder flasks and tools. Steel helmets covered their heads, each one stamped with the Phoenix crest.
Alexius moved his eyes across the map until they reached the northern edge of the land that was still free.
There, marked with a blue flag, was Count Ravenshire's Domain—the homeland of Viscount Comwell Esperia.
It sat on the border of the occupied North, now become the last safe place for people fleeing the cruel rule of Duchess Zemlya. Every day, refugees crossed into Ravenshire, to find save heaven in the capital.
Comwell, recently promoted to Lieutenant Colonel of the Royal Army, had been sent there.
He was given command of the 1st Royal Musket Battalion, along with 2,500 crossbowmen and 2,500 pikemen.
Officially, his mission was simple: defend the border and protect the refugees.
Refugees kept arriving from the North, bringing terrible stories with them, men forced to work in the mines until their bodies gave out, women were raped, earth golems patrolling the streets, the Grand Mage massacre villagers for failing to meet grain quotas.
These stories did not break the morale of the Musket Battalion.
Instead, they filled the soldiers with anger and determination to take back their homes as soon as possible.
Alexius moved his hand to the West.
There, a large green marker covered the Western Highway.
Marquess Custodias—the Old Lion of the South—had arrived three weeks ago. Their meeting had been brief.
The old Rank 7 Sword King had knelt, sworn his blade to his grandson, and then gone straight to war.
Now, eight thousand soldiers of the Southern Army were camped along the highway, blocking any advance from Der Gnadenlose's heavy cavalry.
The encampment had become a city of its own.
Rows of neat tents stretched far across the land.
Watchtowers had been built across the area, guarding every approach.
Displaced civilians were taken in. They were given food and protection. In return, they worked—digging trenches, building walls, and strengthening defenses.
For now, the war had reached a standstill.
But today, the waiting would end.
The heavy oak doors of the War Room creaked open. Elias stepped inside. The bandage on his head was gone, revealing a jagged scar. He bowed deeply.
"Your Highness," Elias said, his voice calm and firm. "The commanders are assembled. The magical link with Lieutenant Colonel Esperia is ready."
Alexius turned away from the map. He straightened the front of his black military tunic.
It was time.
Alexius walked to the central table of the meeting room.
Standing around it were Marquess Custodias, Captain Fidus, Thorgar Ironhand, Vane, and Aelrue, each representing their own forces.
Floating above the crystal table was a glowing image—the magical projection of Lieutenant Colonel Comwell Esperia. He was transmitting from the northern border. The situation there was too dangerous, and the distance was too great for him to return in time.
They talked back and forth, studying the map, arguing battle strategies.
An hour passed.
Then—
Knock. Knock.
The room fell silent.
"Gentlemen," Alexius said, turning toward the door, "we have a new ally. Allow me to introduce him."
The doors opened.
A tall man stepped inside. He wore a pure white robe and a pointed hat. His hair was gray, his face lined with age, and his eyes were deep and wise.
The moment he entered, the room froze.
Shock spread across every face inside the entire meeting room.
.....
10 Days Later.
Crown Prince Alexius sat on his black warhorse, his cloak whipping hard in the wind. He stood on the cliff looking down into the valley of the Greenshire, the neighbor of Comwell father's domain Ravenshire. Greenshire was the main breadbasket of the North—a land of fertile mountain farms and rolling fields. The city had once been home to ten thousand people, making it large for the sparsely populated northern region.
Now, it was under Imperial control.
Count Greenshire and his entire family had been slaughtered while defending the city along with Five hundred of his household knights. The survivors were forced into slavery, driven to work the fields to produce grain for the Empire.
Behind Alexius, accompany the Lieutenant Colonel Comwell Esperia, to his left the mysterious man with pure white robe, behind them Lupus Custodias and newly appointed Lieutenant Colonel Centurion, for the newly founded Battalion the core of this forces. filling the narrow passes and the valley floor below, were twenty thousand soldiers.
formed by the 1st Royal Musket Battalion, fifteen hundred men in grey coats standing in rigid formation. Flanking them were five thousand heavy pikemen and five thousand crossbowmen of the Royal Army.
Behind the infantry, The 1st Earth Shaker Battalion.
Twenty field cannons stood in place. They were commanded by the newly appointed Lieutenant Colonel Centurion, a former senior commander of the Black Legion from the capital.
The rest of the army was made up of veteran knights—men from the Black Legion and the Silver Legion, warriors who had survived the previous war.
Below them lay Greenshire. The wooden palisades had been replaced by walls of magically fused stone, ten feet thick and twenty feet high.
Watchtowers made of jagged stone rose over the slave pens, where ten thousand citizens of the Leo Principality were being forced to work until they died.
Imperial banners—red dragons on black cloth—hung over the city.
They are expecting a normal siege. They have cut down the forests for three hundred yards to stop a surprise attack by enemies. 50 Earth golems and 3000 imperial soldiers are stationing the area.
"Lieutenant Colonel," Alexius said. "The city gate is two thousand yards away. Can you hit it?"
"I can put a shot through the keyhole, Your Highness," Lieutenant Colonel Centurion replied.
"Then begin," Alexius said. "And make sure the fire does not reach inside the city. The civilians must not be caught in the crossfire."
"Elevation thirty-two degrees! Charge four! High-Explosive Shells!"
"Battery!"
"FIRE!"
BOOM.
Twenty cannons fired at the same time.
The ground beneath the ridge shook violently. A huge cloud of white smoke burst into the air.
Twenty iron balls—each weighing twenty pounds—screamed across the valley at terrifying speed.
Down in the valley, the Imperial soldiers on the walls of Greenshire looked up.
They thought it was only natural thunder.
Death came a heartbeat later.
The Imperial commander of Greenshire, Baron Saxum, a Rank 5 Earth Mage, stood on the wall with a cup of wine in his hand. He noticed the white smoke and frowned.
Then the shots landed.
CRACK—THOOM.
The stone walls shattered.
The ramparts exploded.
And Greenshire's defense vanished in an instant.
The force of a twenty-pound iron shell moving faster than sound is enormous. When it strikes a magic shield made to stop arrows, the result is total destruction.
The first shell hit the Tier 5 barrier.
It shattered.
The golden dome of barrier magic broke apart like glass, turning into fading pieces of light.
Then the other nineteen shells arrived.
They slammed into the city gate and the nearby walls. The stone defenses of Greenshire exploded instantly. Huge clouds of dust and fire shot into the air. The gatehouse, even with earth magic strengthening it, was completely erased.
Stone shards and twisted iron flew inward like blades, cutting down the Imperial soldiers gathered in the courtyard.
Baron Saxum was thrown off his feet.
He crashed to the ground, stunned. His ears rang loudly. His thoughts were a mess.
He couldn't understand what had just happened.
Because in a single moment—
the rules of war had changed on the entire continent.
(Continue.....)