Ivan, the heir to the Grand Principality, looked at the note in his hand. It was three words, 'watch your son'. Looking back down, he looked at the injured Aswad who was kneeling in front of him. Notes would arrive every month. He didn't know who the sender was or where they had come from, but seeing the unmasked man in front of him now, he had a rough idea.
Aswad looked at Ivan with emotionless eyes. He knew it was over for him but knew that he couldn't give any information up or risk a war breaking out between the two. Looking down at Ivan's hands he saw the slip of paper. Bitterness filled his mouth, knowing that it was what caused his capture, that a traitor had infiltrated the Sultanate.
"Take him to the dungeon, get whatever you can out of him then dispose of him." Waving the two guards off, they picked Aswad up by the chains, throwing him out the door. Taking out a pen and paper Ivan wrote a letter to his father. Handing it one of his loyal guards he went back to work, pushing the matter to the back of his head and waiting for his father.
Nasr stood across the river that separated the north and south. He was now in enemy territory and knew that every action he took had to be taken with utmost care. It was Ali's homeland, and he would definitely hold the advantage whilst here.
His only saving grace was the scout reports of the number of troops Harun had. Compared to his 18 thousand, Harun could only muster 10. It was a great advantage but Nasr knew that numbers weren't the only thing that won battles.
Walking into the tent, Mansa and a couple of other advisors stood around a map of the Sultanate. They all bowed to Nasr who waved them off as he took place at the head of the table.
"Ali's fort is located here, on the right side of the border. We know that his men gathered at his location, and there are two main roads on which he can travel down with such a large army. The road towards the Southern crossing, or the main highway leading to the capital. The Northern Highway is too out the way to make sense." Mansa quickly broke down the contents of the conversation to Nasr.
"Chances that he will split his troops?" Nasr questioned looking at the pieces on the map representing Harun's army.
"Difficult to say. I would say no by the numbers alone, but this is his land. He has the home advantage and may be willing to take risks. We have scouts posted on each main road. In the future, we will have more knowledge." Mansa responded. Nasr took a seat, placing his chin on his hand.
He had never been on the battlefield, and analysing the map was a confusing task for him. As much as he hated to, it was a case where he had to delegate the task to his subordinates. Despite that, he was someone skilled in political intrigue. He tried to change his mindset from it being a battlefield to court politics.
He knew his brother wasn't some honourable warrior and would use underhanded tricks to win the war, but he also knew he was the same. Tricks and deceit filled his mind as new underhanded tactics came to him one by one.
His piercing eyes studied the map once more. "The Northen highway." Nasr stood up, tracing his finger along the map. "It runs across the Northern border before connecting to the Main Highway. If we send a small force around it, capturing the castles, we could cut off the grain supply my brother gets from the Northern Lords. As the small force marches, it will force my brother to pull away soldiers from his main army, allowing the bulk of our force to face a much weaker army."
Mansa and the other advisors looked at the map, trying to see if it was feasible. It would force a spilt in their supply lines and could potentially end in complete disaster, wiping out their split force. It was a gamble.
"Who will lead this small force? If we don't have proper leadership with them, it could not only end up with them dead but a large amount of deserters." Mansa asked before continuing, "And what if your brother has the same idea? Get around behind us and destroy our supply."
"He can't. He doesn't have the numbers to do it. And if he did, we would be facing less than a thousand troops." Nasr looked down at the map, "Harun and Ali are better commanders on the field than us. Ali has been on the battlefield before some of us were alive and Harun, joined my father on the battlefield during the Grand Prince's invasion. We don't have much choice but to use an underhanded tactic like this. Even with the numbers, they have the defender's advantage."
Mansa looked at the others at the table, they nodded slightly agreeing with Nasr. Exhaling deeply he lightly nodded. "They have 10 thousand men from what we know. We can spare at most 2 thousand men for this." He paused looking deep into Nasr's eyes, "And I will lead it."
"You will do no such thing." Nasr's reply was quick. "We need you here to lead the main force."
Mansa shook his head. "Your Grace. You order these troops to do this and it will feel like you're sending them to their death. Adding to this, you need a strong commander to lead them efficiently and there is no better option. You have enough advisors here to make up for my absence, but none of these men can lead a two-thousand-strong army alone."
Those surrounding wished to protest but quickly shut up from a hard stare from Mansa who looked down on them. They all knew it to be true, however. The best commander in the Sultanate resided in the North and South, but the North had turned traitor and the South was on Guard against the Kingdom and couldn't spare their best. Those remaining, although knew the battlefield had shortcomings.
Nasr fell into his chair looking at the man before him. His face was annoyed but he was thinking deeply about it. "Okay. Keep constant communications, no messenger birds, however, send runners instead. If the operation looks like it is going to be a failure then retreat." Mansa gave a deep bow, with the men continuing, planning the war.
"They have entered the North, Sir Regent." The runner gave the letter to Adrian, who read it and nodded. Around him were two Guards, placed on him by Mansa. He knew they were there not to protect him but to watch him.
"Thank you. Tell the Sultan that I wish him the best in the battles to come." The runner bowed quickly leaving the throne room. Adrian soon followed getting up. His two guards stuck tightly to him, not giving Adrian a chance to leave.
Thinking quickly he entered the toilet. It was the one place he was given any freedom from watchful eyes. Taking a piece of paper out of his pocket, he groaned wondering how to write on it. He looked around, to no avail. Opening the cupboards, he saw a small razor.
Making a small cut on his finger, the blood dropped onto the paper. Adrian took care not to mess up as he wrote 'in north,' out of his blood. Lifting his mask and sucking his finger he waited for the blood to stop coming before leaving the toilet, carefully hiding the paper in his pocket.
In his office, he wrote a small note on another piece of paper. The guards watched every word written, making sure it was safe. Grabbing one of his personal birds in the office he tied the note, sneakily concealing the bloodied letter with it. Smiling he took back his seat, carrying on with his work like normal.