The camp sprawled like a living organism across the fields outside Hassel, its fires dotting the landscape with flickering amber lights. The night was cool, and the faint hum of distant magic from the city’s war wards tinged the air with unease. Leonard stood at the entrance of his command tent, his features obscured by the illusion of an ordinary young man with unremarkable brown hair and plain, slightly worn leather armor. He exhaled slowly, letting the transformation settle, and stepped into the camp.

  The revolutionary army had arrived at Hassel’s vicinity just a couple of hours before and found that the divination division’s intel was correct. Pollus had wasted no time raising the city’s protections, and even with a glance, Leonard could tell that battering them with his artillery would prove fruitless. The leyline’s energy would sustain the wards as long as needed, as it had when attacked by the Incursion.

  He had considered several options in his tent, weighing bold strategies against practical limitations. Ultimately, he’d chosen to continue with his initial plan. But the operation could wait for the moment, as it would take at least a few hours to scry the leyline’s precise location. Right now, he needed to hear from the people who would follow him into battle.

  It is becoming a tradition, but I do not mind. I can feel their belief, and some would consider that to be enough, but I won’t allow myself to become blinded. If there are issues among my men, I need to know.

  Making his way through the camp without hurry, Leonard passed several groups of soldiers gathered around campfires. Occasionally, he’d slow down, but a cursory observation told him the men were simply decompressing after a hard march.

  Near a fire pit, a grizzled veteran was regaling a group of recruits with tales of past campaigns. Leonard lingered for a moment, catching snippets of the story—an exaggerated account of a skirmish shortly before the battle of Stonebridge. The recruits hung on every word, their faces alight with awe. Smiling faintly, he moved on.

  Further down the camp, he stopped to speak with a pair of gunners who were meticulously cleaning their firearms. “How are you feeling about the siege?” he asked with a poorly hidden tremor, appearing as nothing but a greenhorn seeking reassurance.

  The older of the two, a stocky man with calloused hands and a few streaks of gray in his beard, shrugged. “Hassel’s a tough nut, no doubt about it. Those wards are something else. But we’ve got the Grand Marshal, don’t we? I ‘ave seen him take down General Locke with my eyes. Hell, I’ve seen him bring an entire army back to life. I doubt this will trouble him overmuch.”

  The younger marksman, barely more than a boy, nodded vigorously. “Aye, he’ll figure something out. Always does. Trust the Hero, and you’ll never fail.”

  Leonard thanked them and moved on, pleased to feel the tiny spark of [Faith] grow. Still, there was an undercurrent of doubt among some soldiers—a skepticism he couldn’t blame them for. Taking Hassel wasn’t a matter of brute force, as its defenses were unmatched. Most veterans knew that even with his incredible power, he couldn’t smash through them. The resulting cascade would vaporize much of the city and the army.

  As he continued his inspection, he was drawn to a lively group gathered around a bubbling pot. At their center was Oliver, who had the complete attention of his companions. Leonard paused at the edge of the circle, leaning against a crate to listen unnoticed.

  His squire had changed over the course of the campaign. Gone was the brash, overeager boy who had first begged Leonard for a chance to prove himself. In his place stood a young man tempered by experience. His edges softened, but his resolve sharpened. He sat cross-legged, gesturing animatedly as he spoke, his voice carrying the easy authority of someone who had earned respect and knew it.

  “The Griffin Knights will be a challenge, sure,” Oliver said, addressing his squad. “But think about what they know of our capabilities. I doubt they’ll dare take to the skies, knowing our mage corps are just itching to show off. I think Lady Amelia’s performance lit a fire in them.”

  A young woman that Leonard recognized as one whose soul he had to pull back from the beyond countered. “But Hassel’s different from Pepperhof, isn’t it? They’ve got several airships, and I’m sure they would use them to great effect on any other occasion, but unless we can breach the wards, they won’t have to take to the air. Why would they fight us when they can just wait us out?”

  Oliver didn’t flinch. “Sir Leonard will handle the Vessels,” he said firmly, his absolute belief evident to all. “Our job is to deal with the ground troops that are sure to come when the wards are broken.” Then, seeing that she was still unconvinced, he added, “Lady Amelia was certain it was only a matter of time before the Air Force attacked. I know better than to bet against her.”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  The girl sat back, apparently appeased. Another of his companions patted him on the back. “And we’ll follow you wherever you take us, oh apprentice of the Hero.”

  Oliver flushed but grinned. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Unless things go cock up, we shouldn’t have to do much beyond being ready for deployment for now. Things might change depending on how Count Pollus reacts to the first probing strikes, but I still expect the city will be ours before too long.”

  The group murmured their agreement, and Leonard felt a swell of pride. Oliver had grown into a leader in his own right, able to rally others and keep their spirits grounded in reality. It was a pity he hadn’t earned his knighthood yet, but he had a good feeling about the coming fight.

  Despite what many hope for, I doubt Pollus will surrender, even with the wards down. No, it’s more likely he’ll try to draw us into a bloody slog of urban combat as he slowly retreats into the inner city.

  As the conversation turned to lighter topics, Leonard slipped away, leaving a message in Oliver’s tent. The night’s walk had been productive. The people were ready, and their morale was bolstered not just by their faith in him but also by their resolve. They would need it if what he believed would happen came to pass.

  Satisfied, Leonard raised a hand, weaving a bubble of magic around himself. The air shimmered faintly as the spell took hold, muting the sounds outside and ensuring the coming conversation would remain private. A moment later, Amelia stepped into the barrier, her dark eyes meeting Leonard’s.

  “Report.”

  Amelia brushed a strand of hair from her face, her cloak rustling softly as she crossed her arms. “The harassment campaign in the south is going well. Captain Charry has proven resourceful, targeting supply lines and forcing the enemy to split their forces to protect their logistics. The disruption has slowed their preparations, but they’re still not far from the initial schedule. If they regroup, their numbers will be a problem.”

  Leonard nodded, his expression unreadable. “And Treon?”

  “Fortified,” she replied. “Gerard has done an admirable job. The city is secure, and he’s turned its natural harbor into something formidable. Even if Garva’s navy strikes, they’ll find taking it a costly endeavor. The new special force is ready there, too.”

  Leonard tilted his head, considering her words. “How long until they can put the city to siege?”

  “About a week,” Amelia replied. “That’s assuming the harassment doesn’t slow them further. But their captains are pushing hard, and if they manage to consolidate, they’ll be able to break through the defensive blockade.”

  “That should be enough time to take Hassel,” Leonard said, his gaze shifting to the city in the distance. “Though I doubt news of our success here will reach them in time to stop their advance.”

  Amelia studied him for a moment, her expression thoughtful. “You think we should strike immediately.”

  “I do,” Leonard replied. “We both know it will take us days to work through the lower city. Even if we forsake our limitations and stop caring about collateral damage, we can’t move on to the inner city before cleaning up behind us, or we’ll be constantly ambushed. I will personally begin the operations tomorrow morning as soon as the seers find the leyline.”

  Amelia’s lips pressed into a thin line. “And Treon? Should I go and take control of the defenses? Gerard and I don’t always see eye to eye, but—”

  Leonard shook his head. “No. If you believe his preparations are enough, then trust him. Your talents are better served here, coordinating the assault while I lead the way forward. Gerard can hold Treon.”

  I doubt they’ll breach the wards, and even if they do, they won’t be able to take the city with the men they have. I must trust Gerard, Lia, and Jean to do their duties… And if they really need it, I might be able to offer some help even from here. But I doubt that I’ll have to. Duke Garva is a thorough man, but he won’t expect what I’ve left behind for him.

  She nodded, though her posture remained tense. “Understood.”

  They stood in silence for a moment, the massive city of Hassel dominating the landscape before them. Leonard would have never believed he’d be plotting to take it even just a year ago, having been part of the defenders during the Incursion. But the bitter anger within him wouldn’t allow anything less.

  “The wards are strong enough that they held against the void for months,” Amelia said quietly, “Are you so sure the disruption of the leyline will be enough? And that it will move Pollus to send out the Air Force?”

  She is genuinely worried about leaving Treon defenseless. She wouldn’t have said Gerard was prepared enough if she didn’t believe it, so what is this about? Hmm, the only thing that comes to mind is that she might be concerned about Jean. But really, the girl is probably enough on her own to hold the city.

  It was an uncharacteristic display of uncertainty for a woman who had been through hell and back. Literally.

  Leonard sometimes forgot that not everyone had the benefit of feeling the currents of fate as he did. “Had it been any other commander, I wouldn’t have gambled, but Pollus served at the Death Fort for decades. He knows the importance of keeping the leyline active. The fort has remained impregnable through the centuries because of its ancient protections, and he personally ordered hundreds, if not thousands, of men to their deaths to keep them powered. He won’t have any other choice.”

  There, that should be clear enough. She knows better than anyone how people are slaves to their past. Pollus is an experienced commander, but this is not an easy situation. It’s very unlikely he’ll divert from what he knows.

  Amelia didn’t react, but he knew her well enough to know she was pacified when she changed the subject of her inquiry. “Have you decided what to do with the airships? I still think that dealing with them personally would—”

  “I can always do that if it comes to it,” Leonard interrupted. “But we must use the opportunity. If things go to plan—and I’m confident they will, no matter the setback—we’ll skip the outer city entirely. The surprise factor alone will be significant, and once news trickles down to the Royal Army, they will be much more reticent to face us directly.”

  Amelia smirked faintly. “You just want to show off your toys.”

  “That is part of the equation, yes.” Leonard chuckled, “But it is true that we won’t get a better chance. I’m not foolish enough to believe Pollus will be anywhere near the walls, but even just gaining a day will allow us to do so much more.”

  Especially if Prime Minister Neville has given the overall command to whom I think he did. Amelia’s shadows know better than to get close to him, which would make him the best candidate.

  Putting thoughts of the upcoming reunion aside, Leonard set his gaze on Hassel.