At the first fracture of light on the horizon, the Supreme Commander of the Army mounted his horse.The road leading to the border camp lay silent, carrying nothing but the rhythm of hooves and the sound of wind sweeping over dry grass.He did not look around him.His eyes were fixed forward, yet his mind was far beyond the road ahead.
"Only two days…a window that will not repeat."
He said it within himself, without a sound.
"Everything… depends on speed.I must exploit the terrain…I must make the decision outrun the news,and the news outrun the movement."
"If word reaches them early… everything changes.If they are delayed by a single day…we will be fighting a kingdom born of war."
He tightened the reins.The horse responded as if it understood.
Far from the border, in a city flying the banner of the Kingdom of Savina, the Mercenary Guild was alive with motion.Swords were sharpened.Armor was strapped tight.Faces did not ask why—they asked how much.
In a corner, two men argued in low voices:
"The reward is high…""It's not just the reward… it's the name. Anyone who joins this campaign will be remembered."
In an inner courtyard, one of them laughed as he drew his bow:
"I heard anyone who earns a battlefield distinction gets paid in pure gold."
Another replied coldly:
"Gold fades… reputation endures."
At the top of the building, small banners were being folded away.No banner of war was raised.But everyone understood.
The Supreme Commander reached the camp as night approached.He entered the command tent without announcement.
Inside, the four generals were already waiting:
Erik.Morgan.Leander.Thorne.
He did not sit.He did not waste a moment.
He looked at them one by one, then spoke in a steady voice without hesitation:
"Generals…tonight, we do not execute a plan.Tonight, we write history."
He stepped forward and gestured toward the map spread across the table:
"We have only hours to turn the darkness of night into the dawn of victory.Listen carefully… every detail here is the difference between a breakthrough… and suicide."
He pointed to a precise spot along the wall:
"We begin with concentrated bombardment here.Not total destruction… but a fracture.A wide breach… enough to become a gate."
He raised his finger slightly:
"Immediately after the collapse, we flood the area with barrels of ash, straw, and oil.Then… flaming arrows."
He paused.
"Fire is not our objective.Panic is the objective.And smoke… is the curtain."
His finger moved to either side of the breach:
"Under the cover of flame, ladders are raised.Not along the entire wall…but here… and here."
He looked directly at Erik:
"Fast, successive waves.Silent.Swift.Lethal."
Then he said clearly:
"Your mission is not to seize the wall…but to secure the ladder heads.If one falls here… everyone behind him falls."
He called out:
"General Erik."
Erik lifted his head.
"Choose men who do not fear heights.Men who move through darkness as they do through daylight.Climb…secure the ladder head…and open the way."
It was not an order.It was an assignment of trust.
The commander returned to the map:
"Once the ascent points are secured…the flood begins."
He struck the table lightly with his fist:
"No more infiltration.Waves instead.Men following men…not stopping until the wall is full."
He raised his gaze:
"And only then…do we descend."
He raised three fingers:
"Upon descent, we divide into three groups."
To the left:
"General Morgan.Head toward the mountains.Seize the passes before the enemy wakes."
To the right:
"General Leander.Move east.Secure the flank…and maintain a safe distance from the neighboring border."
Then to the center:
"The central group…I will lead personally."
He paused, then said:
"The forest will be our refuge.Our fortress.And our corridor."
He inhaled deeply:
"Before dawn breaks…I want everything within half a day's march under our control."
He looked at Thorne:
"I don't want numbers.I want water wells.Supply depots.And high ground."
He called him:
"General Thorne."
Thorne stepped forward.
"You are reserve and logistics.Make the supplies follow us like a shadow.And keep the reserve ready to strike wherever the battle demands."
His voice lowered slightly:
"Timing…is both our enemy and our ally."
Then he listed clearly:
"Midnight: the fire begins.""Before dawn: we have descended and dispersed.""With first light:we will have dug our trenches…and prepared our defenses."
Then he said, not as a threat, but as one stating reality:
"If we are discovered early…we shift from infiltration to storm.""If they resist fiercely…we press harder.""And if they attempt to encircle us…we will already have become a moving fortress."
He produced four small sealed scrolls.He handed one to each general:
"Rally point.Secret signals.Nothing is written after this."
The handshakes were firm.And the looks… clearer than any map.
The generals left the tent,each returning to his forces.
The night was calm…but the plan was no longer ink on parchment.
It was nowa hungerin the heartsof one hundred and ninety thousand men.