January 1731 City of Ber, Province of Ciresia, Osterian Empire.
"There's something wrong here."
A man scratches his beard as he mutters to himself, that man was General Wendell Otto. Head of the eight Osterian Army, count of Rikrid and the Hero of Bien.
He scratches his right eye, his scar burning in memories as he fixed on the map before him. The drastic and unconventional frontline leaving him stumped.
His intuition screams into his head, something was wrong, something was different. A strategy like this is not something they'll do without an ace in their sleeves.
"What could it be? What could allow them to take such a drastic risk?"
He taps his chin in deep thought. His eyes never leaving the map before he looked forward, the lines before him were a view drowned in white.
The Osterian uniform, blocking whatever sight line he had for their enemies.
"Are you sure these reports are correct?" He asks the man before him.
"Of course, General!" a colonel salutes back in reply.
The man then sighs, "What could it be? What could it be?"
He then slam his hand, his beard hiding whatever irritation he was feeling, "This is ridiculous! Their first war in fifteen years and they decide to do something so unorthodox."
"Sir, with all due respect. I believe it would be best for us to ignore such an occurrence and deploy our forces evenly and leverage our numerical superiority."
General Otto looks to him in confusion, "Are you stupid?"
"Apologies, sir." The man recoils before quickly bowing.
Otto smirks at the bowing officer before shaking his head. "Never underestimate a Drissian." He points to his eye. "You don't want this kind of scar on you."
The officers around him nod in fear. The realization they are facing settles in before they immediately went back to work, coming to and fro as they prepare for battle.
Otto then looks back down, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts as plans after plan appear and disappear, the cavalry poised against his right flank, a looming threat.
But the question remains, what makes them so confident on committing so much of their forces in an area that would leave his men vulnerable, their right flank easily collapsible?
A man then bursts in his direction, riding his horse as he takes a deep breath. A message in hand, "Sir! General Keller sent a message!"
Otto then grabs it off his hand, taking in the new information. Reading the description and seemingly endless report as he grips the table in increasing strength, his black eyes illuminating in anger.
He roars, "Send five hundred mages to the left flank! We'll annihilate them before they could ever pose a threat!"
The voice erupted around him as his officers ran and scramble to send their missives. The battle now taking its first turn.
Dietrich Keller was a man of significant talent, something that he can boast to himself as he once more lower the spyglass on his hand.
"What are they thinking?" He mutters.
He hunches his back in thought as his red eyes roam the Drissian lines in frustration as he and his men push forth towards the clearing.
This was ridiculous, an absolute disrespect of the Osterian Army, yet his instinct scream to himself that something was amiss.
Something was moving without his knowledge, leaving him doubtful as he turned to his officer and spoke, "Send a message to General Otto. The Drissian rightmost flank doesn't hold a single mage, merely officers."
"Yes, sir!" The officer then rides to deliver, leaving him alone to his thoughts as he intently watches the Drissian Lines take formation.
"Do you have any thought on the matter? Colonel Falk. Though with your supposed expertise, I'm sure you can find one." said Keller as he looked to his friend beside him. a small smirk gracing his features.
The man chuckles back, "Well, general. This humble officer can't talk much about our enemies. But with the genius of House Keller, I don't think there's barely any problem."
"Ha!" A bark of laughter escapes him as he looked to his friend, "Though, jokes aside. What do you make of this?"
Falk's expression turns grim, "I dont know. All I know is they aren't stupid enough to leave their flank exposed like this or leave it without any plan."
His eyes roam. "The best I could give you is desperation for victory. The various commonalities Ive read about their strategies were their willingness to sacrifice for victory."
His expression scrunches up as he looks to the right, "I might be unable to see their left flank, but I can at least be assured that we won't be encountering the biggest dangers in this battle."
General Keller nods at his words, "Thats good, then the best we could do now is force their hand and bombard their men into submission."
"Though General Otto might have something else in mind." He says as he takes spyglass up his eyes.
"What?"
'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
It took a few precious minutes for hundreds of mages to arrive. The standoff between the two armies under the ever-increasing sunlight has made the two armies weak.
A hundred footsteps then erupted behind them. An officer presses forth as he saluted towards Keller.
"Sir! Lieutenant Colonel Schwarts reporting for duty! General Otto has assigned us under your command."
Keller nods, "I see, then Colonel Falk will be your superior for this battle. Both of you are to be assigned on the task of completely obliterating the Drissian Right."
The two men salute, "As you command, General!"
Schwarts then leaves, Falk following right behind him, only to be stopped by a hand grabbing his shoulder, his friend looking to him in worry.
"Dont die on me, Alwin."
"Ha! You make it sound like I plan on dying anytime soon." He gives him a roguish grin, "After all, you've warmed my position for me. It would be wrong for me not to take it."
Keller shakes his head fondly. "You wish."
Falk gives a cheerful smile before turning his back on his friend.
The two men preparing for the battle ahead.