I stood atop the hill, watching the siege of Duskvale Fortress unfold below—a clash of fire, steel, and magic. Aumale's thirty thousand soldiers surged forward relentlessly, their siege engines hammering the fortress walls with mechanical efficiency. Yet the defenders, bolstered by their mages, fought back with desperate determination.
Shimmering barriers of magic intercepted boulders mid-flight, sending showers of sparks and shattered stone raining down on the battlefield. Fireballs and lightning crackled from the ramparts, tearing through advancing siege ladders and scattering soldiers in fiery explosions. The fortress held, but only just. The mages were tiring, their spells flickering with the strain of holding back Aumale's unrelenting assault.
Despite the chaos, my modern mind sought patterns amidst the madness. The current stalemate was more than a battle of strength—it was a battle of endurance. And endurance was something Aumale's army couldn't maintain if their supply lines were cut.
I narrowed my eyes, spotting the faint trails of wagons in the distance, snaking back toward the horizon. Their supplies—food, ammunition, and reinforcements—were their lifeblood. Without them, Aumale's relentless momentum would falter, and their morale would crumble.
I thought quickly, my mind racing as the chaos of the battlefield stretched before me. If the defenders could hold this fragile stalemate just a little longer, I could slip behind enemy lines and sabotage their supply lines. A few well-placed fires, steal their provisions, or destroyed wagons—that's all it would take to send chaos rippling through their ranks. Their troops, already stretched thin by the prolonged siege, would falter under the weight of hunger and confusion. This wasn't just a gamble—it was the only way to tip the scales in our favor.
But a covert operation wouldn't be enough. It would have to be timed perfectly, coordinated with a decisive strike from the defenders to exploit the ensuing chaos. I glanced back at the fortress, its battered walls and weary defenders holding on with grim determination.
This wasn't just about holding the line anymore. It was about striking where it hurt the most and ending this siege on our terms. With a plan forming in my mind, I clenched my fists. The tools of modern strategy—efficiency, precision, and timing—were my advantage. If I executed this right, Duskvale wouldn't just survive. We'd win.
"Galen, Arnold," I began, my voice steady as I turned to my closest advisors. "We need to think beyond brute force. Aumale's strength lies in his numbers and his supply lines. If we can cripple his logistics, his army will falter."
Galen's brow furrowed as he observed the battle.
"Striking their supply lines will weaken them, but it's risky. We're deep in enemy territory."
I nodded, the plan forming in my mind.
"Risky, yes. But necessary. We can't take on thirty thousand troops head-on. Our army is outnumbered, even with those within the Celestial Vault. We'll conduct a covert operation to disrupt their supplies. Once their morale and stamina falter, we'll coordinate with Count Velrois' forces to strike."
Arnold crossed his arms, his expression unreadable as usual.
"You intend to lead this operation yourself?"
"Of course," I replied. "This is too crucial to entrust to anyone else. We'll use small, specialized units to maximize damage and escape before they can regroup. But first, we need to locate their supply hubs."
Galen glanced at the battlefield.
"The supply caravans would likely be in the rear, heavily guarded. Their main hub must be in Aumale's territory, perhaps near one of their fortresses."
I nodded, turning to Arnold.
"Scout their rear lines. Find where they store their supplies—food, weapons, ammunition, everything. Once we have their location, we'll devise the next phase of the operation."
Arnold gave a curt nod and vanished into the shadows without another word.
When Arnold returned, he brought valuable intelligence.
"The supply depot is located in Aumale's territory, near the village of Brandhollow, a few days' march south of here. They've fortified the area and stationed a garrison of about two thousand troops to guard it."
I studied the map spread out before us, marking Brandhollow's location.
"Two thousand troops is manageable if we strike with precision. We'll take only our most skilled fighters and use the element of surprise to destroy their supplies. The rest of our forces will remain hidden in the Vault until we regroup."
I summoned the key officers from my army, releasing them from the Celestial Vault for the briefing. The group, numbering around twenty, represented the finest of Eisenhart's forces—commanders, scouts, and elite soldiers.
I explained the plan in three parts: Infiltration, Sabotage and then Escape.
First, we would approach Brandhollow under the cover of night, using the terrain to mask our movements.
A team of scouts, led by Arnold, would disable key sentries to minimize alarms.
Galen would lead a team to plant explosive runes obtained from the ruins, around the supply depot.
Meanwhile, I would take a small strike force to create a diversion, drawing the garrison's attention away from the depot.
Once the charges were set, we'd retreat, leaving chaos in our wake. The depot would be destroyed, and the garrison left scrambling in disarray.
"Success hinges on speed and precision," I emphasized. "Any mistakes could cost us dearly. Do you all understand?"
The officers nodded, their faces resolute.
"Good. We move at dusk."
---
Under the cloak of darkness, we approached Brandhollow. The village lay in a shallow valley, the supply depot a sprawling complex of tents and makeshift storage buildings surrounded by a wooden palisade. Torches flickered along the perimeter, casting eerie shadows.
Arnold's scouts moved like phantoms, neutralizing sentries with silent efficiency. By the time we reached the depot, the outer defenses were already compromised.
I led my strike team toward the northern edge of the depot, where we began creating the diversion. Setting fire to the storage tents and engaging the nearest guards, we drew the garrison's attention. The night erupted in chaos as shouts and alarms filled the air.
Meanwhile, Galen's team worked methodically, planting explosive runes throughout the depot. Their precision was unmatched, and within minutes, the explosives were in place.
"Fall back!" I shouted, signaling the retreat.
As the diversion unfolded and the depot descended into chaos, I could hear the shouts of the enemy soldiers echoing across the valley. Smoke and fire billowed into the night sky, casting eerie shadows on the forested terrain as Galen's explosives wrought havoc.
---
Within the command tent of the enemy garrison, Captain Lambert slammed his fist onto the wooden table, scattering maps and supply manifests. His dark eyes burned with fury as his subordinates scrambled for answers.
"What is going on out there?" he barked, his voice cutting through the cacophony of alarms and panicked shouts.
"Sir," a scout rushed in, his face pale and drenched in sweat. "We're under attack! The northern storage tents are ablaze, and there's—there's movement in the shadows. We can't identify who's behind it!"
Lambert's jaw tightened as he scanned the disarray around him. "Cowards! This isn't some random raid. It's sabotage!"
Another officer, a grizzled veteran with a scar running across his temple, stepped forward, his tone grave.
"Captain, this reeks of Count Velrois. His forces have been probing our defenses for weeks now. Only he has the resources and precision to orchestrate such an attack."
Lambert's face darkened. "Velrois..." He cursed under his breath. "That wily fox. He knows our supply lines are the backbone of this campaign. If he's struck here, he intends to cripple us before we can tighten the noose around Duskvale."
"Should we withdraw reinforcements from the siege and pursue them, sir?" the scarred officer asked.
"No," Lambert snapped. "That's exactly what Velrois wants. He aims to split our forces and weaken our resolve. We'll hold our ground here and secure the remaining supplies. Send word to Count Aumale immediately. Velrois has made his move, and we must prepare to crush him."
---
As we retreated into the shadows, Galen and I observed the enemy scrambling to organize a counterattack. Arnold's silhouette appeared beside me, seemingly melting out of the darkness.
"They're in disarray," Arnold reported. "Their officers suspect Velrois is behind the attack. They're diverting resources to secure what little remains of their supplies."
"Perfect," I replied, a small smirk tugging at my lips. "If they focus their wrath on Velrois, it'll buy us more time to consolidate our forces and prepare our counteroffensive."
From a distance, Titan's Might gleamed in Galen's hands, the runes glowing faintly as if feeding off the destruction we had wrought. His Herculean strength skill had been invaluable in holding off reinforcements during our diversion. Beside him, my Aetherium Band pulsed faintly with energy as I used it to guide debris and fallen obstacles into the enemy's path, further delaying their pursuit.
"My lord!" Galen called out, his voice carrying through the chaos. "We need to move now. Their reinforcements are closing in!"
I nodded, my grip tightening on the Aetherblade. Its spectral edge shimmered with energy, and I raised it to slash the air. An arc of aetheric energy carved through the wooden barricade blocking our escape route, allowing us to retreat unimpeded.
Behind us, the depot erupted in another wave of explosions. Galen's runes, triggered in sequence, sent shockwaves rippling through the garrison. The enemy's morale was visibly breaking.
---
Back in the command tent, Captain Lambert glared at the smoldering ruins of the supply depot through a slit in the tent's canvas wall. A runner burst into the tent, gasping for air.
"Captain! The supply depot... it's gone. All of it! The munitions, the provisions—everything has been destroyed!"
Lambert's fist clenched, his knuckles white. "Damn that Velrois!" He turned to his officers, his voice rising in anger. "Send riders to the main camp. Inform Count Aumale that Velrois has struck our supply lines. He must prepare a counterattack."
"But Captain," the scarred officer hesitated, "if Velrois is bold enough to strike our supply lines, his forces may already be preparing a larger assault."
"Then we meet them head-on," Lambert growled. "Velrois will pay for his insolence. Hold this position and fortify it. Count Aumale's reinforcements will crush him soon enough."
Despite his defiance, doubt clouded the captain's mind. Without supplies, his men would falter, and Aumale's campaign would grind to a halt.
---
As we regrouped in the safety of the forest, I glanced at the Heart of Elysium hanging from my neck. Its radiant glow reminded me of the stakes at hand—not just for my forces but for the countless lives depending on our victory.
"We've crippled their logistics," I said to my gathered officers. "And now, they're blaming Velrois. This misdirection will keep them occupied while we consolidate our forces. When they least expect it, we'll strike and end the siege of Duskvale once and for all."
The night's success had set the stage for the next chapter of our campaign, and I was determined to see it through.