The sun had not yet risen when the horns of war sounded.
Fifty thousand men stood in formation beyond the walls of Solmaris, their armor gleaming in the dawn light. The banners of the Golden Lion snapped in the wind, carried by legions who would soon carve their names into history.
I sat atop my black warhorse, Aether, at the front of the army. My golden cloak billowed behind me, the weight of my father's crown resting upon my brow.
This was my first war as Emperor.
And it would not be my last.
---
The Enemy's God
Our scouts had reported that the Kingdom of Varyon was already moving against us.
Their king, Edric Stormborn, had rallied his forces at the border. A man who claimed to be blessed by the Storm God, Zepharos—a deity worshipped by Varyon's warrior-priests.
"They will summon storms against us," Hadrian warned. "Lightning that can shatter steel. Winds that can break formations."
"Then we strike before they are ready," I replied.
Hadrian frowned. "And what of their sorcerers? You know what they are capable of."
"Yes," I said, looking toward the eastern hills where our own Sages of Solis prepared for war. "And they will learn what we are capable of."
---
The Battle of Black Ridge
We met the Varyans on the plains of Black Ridge, a battlefield of rolling hills and high winds.
Their war priests stood at the front, chanting in the language of the gods. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Magic was coming.
But so was war.
I rode to the front of my legions, raising my sword high.
"Soldiers of Solmaris!" My voice thundered across the field. "The enemy believes their gods will save them. But gods do not win wars—men do!"
A roar of approval. Shields slammed against armor.
"The world will remember this day!" I bared my sword toward the enemy lines. "Now fight! And let the Lion's roar shake the heavens!"
The horns sounded.
The battle had begun.
---
Clash of Steel and Sorcery
The Varyans struck first. Their war priests raised their hands, and the skies tore open with lightning. Bolts rained upon our vanguard, striking men down in flashes of searing light.
Screams. Smoke. The stench of burning flesh.
But we did not break.
"Shields up!" Hadrian bellowed, his voice carrying over the chaos.
The front ranks locked shields, bracing against the storm. Some fell, but the line held.
Then, our own Sages of Solis answered.
Across the battlefield, flames erupted from our siege weapons, their bolts and boulders enchanted with fire magic. Blazing projectiles soared through the air, striking the enemy ranks.
A Varyan Storm Priest raised his staff, attempting to conjure a gale to deflect the attack—too late.
A fireball slammed into their ranks, consuming them in a roaring inferno.
I watched them burn. Gods or not, they bled the same.
---
Into the Fray
I did not sit back and command from a safe distance.
That was not how my father ruled.
That was not how I would rule.
"With me!" I spurred Aether forward, my elite Lionguard riding at my side. We crashed into the enemy's flank, swords flashing, cutting through their lines like fire through dry grass.
A Varyan knight charged at me, his spear aimed for my heart.
I twisted in my saddle, knocking his spear aside. With one clean strike, I took his head.
Another came. Then another. I did not stop.
The battlefield blurred into chaos, the clash of steel and screams of the dying filling the air. Blood slicked the ground beneath us.
And then—the enemy faltered.
Their war priests were dead. Their knights were scattered. Their god did not save them.
"Press forward!" I roared, cutting down another enemy soldier. "Break them!"
We did.
Within hours, Black Ridge belonged to Solmaris.
The Lion had roared—and the world had heard it.
---
The Aftermath
As I stood on the battlefield, surrounded by the corpses of my enemies, I knew one thing for certain.
This was only the beginning.
King Edric had escaped. Varyon still stood. But I had drawn first blood.
The world would come to know my name.
Not as a boy.
Not as a mere ruler.
But as a conqueror.