The command quarters of Arkheaven were a crucible of tension. The room, dimly lit by flickering torches, was filled with the heavy silence of anticipation. Mages from Alanor, Pita, and Reaal sat around a large, round table, their faces a mixture of focus and anxiety. On the table, two glowing crystals pulsed with a faint, ethereal light.
These were Dual Stones, rare and valuable artifacts known for their unique properties. Found in pairs, they remained connected no matter how far they were separated. If one crystal was destroyed, its twin would shatter instantly, making them ideal for sending vital signals across great distances. Now, every eye in the room was fixed on the stones, waiting for the signal that would set their plan into motion.
Now, the mages waited in silence, watching the crystals intently. Each crystal represented the signal from Pita and Reaal, which would mean their armies had begun their attacks on Galdor's borders, and the time to move would be upon them.
As the minutes turned to hours, the tension in the room grew palpable. The mages exchanged glances, some fidgeting with their robes, others tapping their fingers on the table. The waiting gnawed at their nerves, but they knew they had to remain patient.
Meanwhile, the situation within the fort was equally fraught. The soldiers, weary from their recent losses, were doing their best to prepare for the coming battle. Among them was Kellan, the young knight who had risen quickly through the ranks after the loss of his village and mother. Now, he found himself tasked with maintaining morale and discipline, a daunting task given the circumstances.
Kellan moved through the ranks, offering words of encouragement where he could. But he could see the fear in the eyes of the men, the doubt gnawing at their resolve. They were outnumbered, exhausted, and still reeling from the last battle. Yet, they had no choice but to fight.
He paused near a group of soldiers who were engaged in a low, anxious conversation. "We have to hold it together," Kellan said firmly, catching their attention. "We've survived worse than this. And we have the king with us, he's out there fighting just like the rest of us."
One of the older soldiers, a grizzled veteran with scars lining his face, nodded slowly. "Yes Sir. But it doesn't make it any easier. We've lost too many good men in the last war, and now we're going up against an army several times our size."
Kellan placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "We have mages with us do not forget that, our task is to only protect them while they cast their spells."
The veteran met Kellan's gaze, seeing the determination in the younger knight's eyes. "Yes Sir, you're right. We'll do what we must."
Time dragged on, and the sun climbed higher in the sky, casting its harsh light through the small windows of the command quarters. The mages remained vigilant, their eyes never leaving the Dual Stones.
Then, at last, it happened. Both crystals shattered in quick succession, tiny shards scattering across the table. The signal had been received: Pita and Reaal had launched their attacks.
Without hesitation, orders were issued. "Ready the troops," came the command. "We march out after the soldiers take a quick bite."
The soldiers, though weary, moved with purpose. They quickly gathered at the mess counters, where bowls of a hearty meat stew were being distributed. It wasn't much, but it was enough to give them the strength they needed for the battle ahead. They ate in silence, each man and woman lost in their thoughts, aware that this might be their last meal.
After a brief respite, the soldiers began to assemble in the courtyard. Armor was adjusted, weapons were checked, and final prayers were muttered under breath. The sense of impending conflict hung over them like a storm cloud, heavy and ominous.
As the troops finished their meals and gathered their weapons, the mages from Pita and Reaal grew increasingly impatient. They could feel the pressure mounting, knowing that every moment they delayed was another moment Galdor could use to reinforce their defenses.
"Why are we not moving out?" Princess Maria of Pita demanded, her eyes flashing with frustration. "The longer we wait, the more time Galdor has to respond."
Maria and Sebastian, the representatives from Pita and Reaal, pressed him to move quickly, eager to capitalize on the surprise attacks their armies had launched.
Thorian met her gaze, his expression unreadable. "Don't you worry," he said calmly. "We move out as soon as the men are ready, wait just a little while."
As he reassured them with carefully chosen words, promising swift action, his mind worked on a different strategy. He needed Galdor to be aware of the attacks from Pita and Reaal, to feel the pressure mounting on their borders. Only then would they consider diverting forces away from Ashvathaa. Even a small reduction in the Galdorian troops would greatly increase Alanor's chances of victory.
The delay was intentional, a calculated risk that he knew would frustrate his allies. But Thorian understood that in war, deception was often the key to success. If he could bait Galdor into making the first move, Alanor could strike with the full force of its army, catching them off guard.
Finally, as the sun began its slow descent, casting long shadows over the fortress, Thorian gave the order to move out. The Alanor forces, bolstered by the mages, began their march toward Blueheaven. The soldiers, though weary and outnumbered, marched with determination, their eyes fixed on the path ahead.
As they moved out of the fortress and into the open fields, Thorian took one last look at the sky, now tinged with the colors of dusk. The time had come. The final confrontation was at hand, and there was no turning back. The fate of his kingdom now rested on the outcome of this battle.