The midday sun hung high over the war camp as Logan sparred with Ulrik in the training yard. The clash of axes echoed across the camp, drawing occasional glances from passing warriors. Logan pushed himself harder than ever, determined to keep up with the massive Knight-stage warrior.
Out of nowhere, Leif burst onto the scene, his sharp, hawk-like eyes alight with urgency. "Ulrik," he said, his voice cutting through the training session, "Raven Clan warriors are at the river."
Ulrik lowered his axe, his brow furrowing. "At the river? Why now?"
Leif crossed his arms. "They're sitting on the other side of the bank, just out of reach. A hundred warriors, one Warden, no Magi."
Ulrik frowned, then smirked. "No Magi? That's odd. Just one Warden? Even stranger."
Leif nodded, his tone steady. "They're jeering at us, calling us out. Trying to draw us over."
Ulrik chuckled, shaking his head. "A crude trap, but a trap nonetheless. They'd scatter like leaves in the wind if I came myself." He rubbed his chin, clearly enjoying the situation. "Leif, gather the scouts and flank them from behind. Go about two kilometers to the east before crossing the river. Stay hidden, wait for my signal, and then strike."
Leif gave a curt nod and disappeared as quickly as he had arrived.
Ulrik turned to Logan. "Come on. Let's watch how this unfolds. You're about to learn the value of strategy."
---
Ulrik led Logan, Vidal, and Yrsa to the top of the war camp's fortified walls. From their vantage point, Logan could see the Raven Clan warriors across the river, their black and red armor gleaming under the sun. They stood just at the edge of the forest, weapons drawn, shouting taunts and insults across the water.
"You cowards hiding behind your walls!" one yelled.
"Come on, dogs! Fight us!" another jeered, waving his axe in the air.
Logan narrowed his eyes. "They don't seem particularly strong."
Ulrik grinned. "That's because they're not. Their Warden is no match for even my weakest lieutenant , but they're testing us, seeing how we respond. It's a game."
Logan turned to Vidal, who was inspecting the scene with a curious glint in his eye. Along the wall, Logan noticed rows of circular metal containers filled with a dark, viscous liquid.
"Is that oil?" Logan asked, gesturing toward the containers.
Vidal smirked. "Oh, you'll see."
Ulrik motioned toward Sigurd, who was already gathering fifty warriors at the gate. "Take them to the riverbank," Ulrik called down. "Hold the line. Don't cross unless I say."
Sigurd nodded, his twin axes gleaming in the sunlight.
---
As Sigurd and his warriors approached the riverbank, the Raven Clan warriors erupted into cheers and taunts, goading them to cross the water.
"They'll run the moment Sigurd charges," Logan muttered.
Ulrik shook his head. "Not yet."
Vidal stepped forward, his hands glowing with energy. Two arrays materialized above his palms, their complexity making Logan's head spin. They were similar to the flame spell he'd seen before but more intricate, with additional control arrays circling the edges.
"Watch closely," Vidal said, grinning.
The runes flared, and the rows of oil containers ignited in an instant. Fire poured down the walls, cascading toward the riverbank. The flames spread rapidly, creating a barrier of heat and light between Sigurd's warriors and the Raven Clan.
The jeers across the river turned into cries of alarm.
---
"Now, Sigurd!" Ulrik roared.
Sigurd and his warriors surged forward, crossing the river through the thinning flames. They collided with the Raven Clan warriors in a cacophony of steel and screams.
From the walls, Yrsa commanded the archers. "Nock! Draw! Loose!"
Flaming arrows rained down from above, each finding its mark with pinpoint accuracy. The Raven Clan's formation began to crumble as Sigurd cut through their ranks, his twin axes moving like a whirlwind of death.
---
Vidal stepped forward again, raising both hands. This time, the arrays he conjured were massive, their intricate designs overlapping in a mesmerizing display of glowing runes.
Logan's breath caught. "What is that?"
"Something big," Ulrik said, a grin spreading across his face.
The arrays flared, and a massive column of fire erupted from Vidal's hands, spiraling into the air before descending upon the battlefield like a meteor. The Raven Clan warriors scattered, their screams drowned out by the roar of the flames.
Vidal laughed, the sound almost maniacal. "Leif, now!"
---
From the shadows of the forest, Leif and his scouts emerged like phantoms. They moved with terrifying speed and precision, cutting down the fleeing Raven Clan warriors in a coordinated wave of death.
Logan watched in awe as Leif himself dispatched the Raven Clan Warden with a single, brutal strike to the throat. The man crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
Within minutes, the battle was over. No of the Raven Clan warriors survived.
---
Ulrik leaned against the parapet, his grin wide and satisfied. "That, Logan, is how you deal with a pest problem."
Logan nodded, his mind racing. He had never seen such a coordinated and brutal display of power. The sheer efficiency of the attack, combined with the devastating impact of Vidal's magic and Leif's scouts, was overwhelming.
Ulrik turned to Logan, his tone lighter now. "Leif and his scouts—they're not just eyes and ears. They're my hidden blade. Silent, swift, and deadly."
Logan glanced at Leif, who was already organizing his scouts to regroup. The man moved with a predator's grace, his expression cold and calculating.
As they descended from the wall, Logan felt a renewed sense of determination. He wasn't just training to survive anymore—he was training to thrive in a world where strength was the only law.