At the same time, in the city of Amresh, hundreds of men moved about, busy with preparations for the impending battle. Soldiers and laborers alike worked tirelessly to ready siege weapons, battering rams, and bombardment cannons. The heat of the sun bore down on them, sweat dripping from their faces as they moved from task to task.
Though preparations had been ongoing for a week, it seemed there was always something more to do, check, or recheck—sometimes even triple-check—depending on how nervous the soldiers were.
Unlike the grand, walled city of Bintan, Amresh stood on open ground, with no towering defenses to protect it from invaders. The city relied on natural terrain and strategy rather than fortifications. Yet, the people preparing for battle were no less determined. Amresh wasn't just a city; it was a symbol of resilience. It had been conquered, burned, and rebuilt several times, each time coming back stronger.
Now, it faced the gravest threat in decades.
General Karim, one of Jai's most trusted commanders, was in charge of defending Amresh. A veteran of numerous wars, Karim inspired loyalty in his men, who admired his calm under pressure and strategic brilliance.
Karim was a tanned man with sharp eyes and brown hair streaked with gray. Wrinkles lined his face, but they were marks of experience, not weakness. Though past his golden years, he still possessed a strong vigor. Known as one of the longest-serving generals under King Ken, he had seen countless battles. What had made him Joined hands with Jai and rebel, many wondered. But Just Wondering never really gave any answers.
Walking through the bustling streets, overseeing the preparations, Karim couldn't help but think of the task ahead. Amresh was vital. If it fell, Jai's forces would lose a key position, making it easier for the enemy to push through to Pshen. Worse, it would shatter the morale of their troops.
There was also the looming risk that the Sultens allied with Jai might consider switching sides. Though unlikely given their numerical and strategic advantage, the possibility lingered like a shadow.
Karim approached a group of soldiers assembling a massive battering ram. The men stopped and saluted him, but he waved them off, urging them to keep working. There was no time for ceremony.
He surveyed the area. To the east, a forest served as a natural barrier, making it difficult for the enemy to flank them from that side. To the west, however, lay an open plain—an ideal battleground for a direct assault.
"We need more spikes along the western border," Karim muttered, eyeing the series of wooden barricades already in place. The sharpened stakes pointing outward didn't feel like enough.
The enemy wasn't just another band of raiders or mercenaries. They were an organized, well-equipped, and well-trained army. Their leader, Sulten Burak, was infamous for his cunning and ability to strike without warning.
Karim's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of boots approaching. He turned to see one of his commanders, face grim.
"General, our scouts have returned. The enemy is about a day's march away. They've set up camp at the edge of the plain."
Karim nodded. "How many?"
The commander hesitated. "More than we expected. They've brought reinforcements. At least five thousand men."
Karim exhaled deeply.
With the help of allied Sultens, Amresh had managed to muster around six thousand troops, maybe seven if they called in reserves. They had the advantage in numbers and knowledge of the terrain. But Karim felt uneasy.
"They must have some plan to compensate for their disadvantage," he thought.
He turned his gaze to the city—exposed and vulnerable, yet crucial. Amresh was the backbone of the region's food supply, especially with Dura lagging due to ongoing conflicts. Losing Amresh wouldn't just harm the war effort; it would hasten the starvation already looming over the nation.
Pushing aside these thoughts, Karim gave his orders:
"Tell the men to prepare for battle. I want every weapon ready by sundown. Set up ambush points along the forest paths and dig trenches across the plain. If the enemy wants to take Amresh, they'll bleed for it."
The commander saluted and hurried off.
Karim stood alone, staring at the horizon. Dark clouds gathered in the distance—a storm brewing. War was like a storm: destructive, unpredictable, but ultimately a test of resilience.
As dusk fell, the city hummed with activity. Trench lines were dug, spikes reinforced, and ambushes set. By nightfall, Amresh was as ready as it could be.
Standing on a hill overlooking the western plain, Karim could see the flicker of enemy campfires. They were close—too close.
Karim wasn't afraid, but he felt the weight of the battle to come. He wondered which of Burak's generals would lead the charge. Old comrades turned enemies: General Khan, the Callous tactician; General Abu, the rigid enforcer; or Khalifa, the battle-hardened maniac.
He smiled bitterly. The past and the present clashed in strange ways during war.
As night deepened, the city grew quiet. Soldiers huddled by their fires, weapons ready. Fear was etched on the faces of the younger troops—new recruits on the brink of their first real battle. Karim, however, was calm. Fear was a weapon, and he would ensure his men wielded it wisely.
A familiar figure approached. It was Tariq, one of his commanders. "General, the men are in position. We're ready."
Karim stood, gripping his sword. His voice was steady, unyielding.
"Good. Tell them this: Amresh will not fall."