"Never interrupt your enemy

when he's making a mistake."



When news arrived that a small band of rebels following an ambassador was approaching the fort waving the white flag, Victor wanted them to be caught, beheaded, and their heads sent back.

But as Lefde reminded him, he was a nobleman who commanded an army formally at the service of the Empire, and as such he could not fail to follow the law of hospitality which required him to always listen to peace proposals.

What surprised everyone a little, but perhaps not even that much, was finding out who the ambassador sent by the rebels to negotiate was.

"Lord Longinus. We finally get to know each other. I've heard a lot about you."

Victor almost laughed as he sat him down in the guest seat of the same office where Adrian had escaped from just a week before.

"Same for me, Grand Duke Montgomery. I hope that your father is in good health, and that you will pay my respects to him when you meet him."

"I will not miss. I remember when you came to visit my family, in the days when yours reigned with wisdom over these lands.»

"I only wish that our meeting after so long had taken place under better circumstances. But let's see if we can do something to improve this situation."

"I'm all ears."

"First of all I would like to reiterate that I am here as Commander of the National Guard's First Army and Home Secretary of the Free State. What I say and what I am authorized to do will be within the functions I have been given."

"Given by whom?"

"By the people of the Free State, the sole owners of the lands we administer in their name."

Victor almost burst out laughing: "The people? And since when do the people count for anything?"

"In the Free State the people are sovereign. The people decided to raise their heads against the usurper, and once the Revolution prevailed, they chose us to administer the nation and protect the freedom they have conquered. And we are ready to do anything to fulfill this task."

What could have seemed almost like a threat was immediately diluted when Adrian, almost smiling, had some documents passed to him by one of his secretaries.

"Therefore, in order to resolve this dispute without further bloodshed, the people of the Free State through our respectable Prime Minister and Supreme Commander of the Army have instructed me to discuss with you the terms for a cessation of hostilities."

Under these terms, Adrian explained with enviable self-control, Eirinn's forces would renounce to advance further into the territories of the Free State, which promised to not undertake any retaliatory action for the attack nor would it ask for some kind of compensation .

Furthermore, Grote Muren would have been demilitarized, remaining a simple commercial citadel, with the creation of a buffer zone in a way not dissimilar to what happened along the border with the Union.

Victor listened without batting an eyelid, but his look left no doubt as to what his response would be.

"Your proposal is interesting. However, tell me just one reason why I should agree to negotiate. We have already defeated you, our troops have made it this far without suffering any losses, and the army you have gathered in the hills west of here is little more than half the size of ours."

"Maybe. This time, however, you don't have a mountain to collapse on top of us, or an expendable unit to send to the slaughter to do it."

Hearing those words, Lefde didn't know whether it was better to ask his nephew to account for it or to blame his own immaturity for wanting to convince himself that it had really been a coincidence.

But in the end he preferred to remain silent, so as not to further stain his conscience.

"Now you listen to me, Adrian. What you and your comrades must do is lower your weapons, get on your knees and beg for mercy. Deliver the leaders of the rebellion to us to be executed, starting with this much-talked-about Daemon. And then perhaps, and I emphasize perhaps, some of you will be spared. Otherwise, we will wipe out every last one of you, and although you may think otherwise, not even you will survive, regardless of the name you bear."

There was clearly no room for civil discussion; and as if Adrian had expected something like this, immediately after Victor had finished speaking he got up to leave.

"Looks like we'll meet on the battlefield after all. But I want to remind you of what I said at the beginning. We are here to serve the interests of the people and protect their freedom. And you can rest assured that we will do everything in our power to fulfill our mandate. See you soon, Acting Grand Duke."

The last sentence hit home, so much so that Adrian barely had time to leave the room before Victor threw his glass at the door.

"But who does he think he is? Damn arrogant imperial!"

"Such confidence is not normal." said Lefde. "They're definitely up to something."

"He's just a good actor."

And the facts soon seemed to prove right those like Philippe who considered that embassy a desperate move to try to avoid a practically certain defeat.

"Report, My Lord!" said a scout, arriving shortly after dinner was over. "The enemy has abandoned his position on Ratcliffe Hill."

"Did they retreat?" Lefde asked

"No, General. They took up positions on the hill immediately to the west, north of the village of Mistvale."

"Does this make sense. Ratcliffe is the highest position in the area, but is very exposed and has no cover in case of attack. The hill on the other side is lower, but from there you can easily control the road to Basterwick."

"Poor fools. Do they really think they want to face us?"

It was what Victor was waiting for. He was only seventeen, and about to become the youngest Grand Duke of Eirinn to lead a successful military campaign in formally foreign territory.

"We will sweep them away. Get ready, we will leave before dawn."

"My Lord, our reinforcements have not yet arrived."

"What are the reinforcements for? We are already almost double their size. And by tomorrow night I'll have that bastard Longinus' eyes in a cup!"



The next morning, the area was shrouded in thick fog.

It wasn't uncommon for this to happen, especially in the moments just after sunrise, when the cold night air was filled with the miasmas rising from the marshes waiting for the north wind to blow everything away revealing the blue sky.

That day, however, there wasn't a breath of wind, so there was no reason to believe that the fog would lift anytime soon.

Lefde did what he could to delay their departure, knowing how dangerous it might be to fight in such circumstances, but in the end he was forced to submit to Victor's will by following him, Philippe and almost the entire army in the march beyond the walls of the fort.

It took just two hours to reach what would have been the battlefield. As predicted by the explorers, the rebels had completely abandoned Ratcliffe Hill during the night, also called the mound by the locals, to reposition themselves on the hill immediately next-door, so that dividing the two armies there was now only a rather small depression made up of the slopes of the two hills and a small flat area.

Behind the rebel ranks was the road to Basterwick, an obligatory crossing point for Eirinn's troops, and which their opponents seemed to have every intention of defending at all costs.

Despite the fog, the Free State army was clearly visible, also because with the shouts and insults that its soldiers hurled at the top of their lungs it would have been impossible not to notice them.

Due to the distance and the fog it was not easy to clearly understand how the enemy had taken position, but they seemed to have assumed a classic spread formation, with the archers in the front line and the heavy infantry immediately behind. There was no trace of those strange hand cannons, perhaps because the avalanche had buried them all.

For the occasion, Victor had recovered the battle armor of his ancestors, understanding the importance of knowing how to appear in such a solemn moment, but obviously he was careful not to set up his headquarters in a point too close to the front.

Obviously no one dreamed of ordering the attack. If you could still see anything from the top of the hills, the valley was completely cloaked, and only a madman would have thought of bringing an army down there.

It was necessary to wait for the fog to lift before thinking about fighting. Or maybe not?

"Report! We've spotted a small enemy unit to the south!"

"Where are?"

"They are holding the village of Mistvale, General Lefde."

"Mistvale?" said Philippe «But it's almost five miles from here. Is their front that large?"

"No, I don't think so." replied Lefde "Simply the road to Basterwick passes right behind it, and it is also the point where the slope of the hill is less steep. Maybe it's a way to try to protect their right flank."

Even a complete idiot would have understood that it was a perfect opportunity. And Philippe certainly didn't consider himself an idiot.

"If we launch a decisive attack and take possession of the village we will be able to go up the ridge and take the enemy from the flank, furthermore by controlling the downstream part of the road we would prevent him from receiving any reinforcements."

But Lefde didn't see it that way.

"I don't know, it seems a little too easy to me. They may have some reserves hidden behind the village. For someone who knows this region it wouldn't be a problem to hide by taking advantage of the fog."

"It's quite clear that our enemies are exhausted, and probably didn't expect us to advance so soon. Otherwise the decision to hole up like that, leaving the side exposed, couldn't be explained."

Once again, Victor agreed with his uncle, ordering him to take his troops and almost all the mercenaries and aim for the enemy's right flank. He and Lefde would keep the rebel army busy with heavy shelling and launch an attack if the fog lifted sufficiently; then, once they took control of Mistvale, they would conduct an all-out offensive and wipe out the enemy by attacking them on two sides.

Simple. Effective. With little risk.

Thirty minutes later, a timid charge of rebel cavalry officially started the battle, but both that and all subsequent charges were repelled without difficulty by erecting walls of lances; Victor wanted to answer, but Lefde for once managed to persuade him to wait for the fog to lift or for news to come from his side.

Due to the damp terrain and the slope Philippe had some problems in bringing his troops to the borders of Mistvale, which moreover was surrounded on three sides by a marsh dotted with muddy islets and stilt houses, thus missing the opportunity to catch the enemy completely unprepared.

Defending the village and its flank was the 4th Light Infantry Division commanded by Septimus, which immediately arranged itself in tight formation, welcoming the attackers with a shower of javelins and then engaging them in a furious melee.

At first it seemed that the impact force of Eirinn's powerful cavalry could overcome the rebels in a few minutes, but Septimus' troops could count on a powerful ally.

Sapi was so small and light, and especially so used to moving on difficult terrain, that for her struggling through the mud and fog was just more fun.

Because for her fighting now meant this: a game.

She didn't take pleasure in killing, in fact she tried to do it as little as possible, but she was now aware of her own strength, and knowing that she could use it to help Daemon was enough to put her in a good mood.

"Report! The enemy resists, but we make progress! We drove them out of the village, and now we are fighting at the foot of the hill!"

"Did they get any reinforcements?"

"Not for the moment, General!"

"Our losses?"

"A few hundred in the army, just over double among the mercenaries! They have a yeti that is putting a strain on our forces!"

"We still have mercenaries." Victor replied without batting an eyelid, while an officer served him a glass of wine. "Let's send them to help. Maybe we'll save some money that way."

The new wave of mercenaries, not having to worry about going unnoticed or having to fight in the marshes, poured onto the rebel right flank with frightening force, pushing the front back several dozen meters almost to the edge of the road.

"We won't give in!" Septimus continued to shout, fighting like a fury alongside his men. "We must resist at all costs!"

But it wasn't easy at all, not with Medea who, burning with rage, continued to shoot arrows while her companions, although now few in number, with their size and power always seemed on the verge of being able to break the enemy line.

Unfortunately among the newcomers there was someone capable of standing up even to Sapi.

"Damn fur ball! Are you going to stop jumping around or not?"

Luckily, the fur covering Sapi's arms and legs was more effective than any armor, otherwise Ignes' blow would have cut her in two instead of just sending her flying.

"You're really strong, big sister!" was Sapi's comment, which only served to anger the young Jormen even more.

"Just wait until I wipe that stupid smile off your face, you little monster."

A sort of private duel began between the two in the heart of the battle, but no matter how hard Ignes struck, her blows either went in vain or, if they struck, they failed to make a dent in Sapi's defenses, who in some cases literally grabbed the enemy ax with bare hands.

And if that whole situation made Ignes more and more furious, Sapi looked like a child on the playground.

"Do you really think this is all a game?" Ignes shouted at one point

"Of course it's a game. Aren't you and I having fun?"

"Don't worry, I'll have a lot of fun... crushing your damn head!"

If Sapi's efforts had the effect of keeping that sort of unleashed fury away from the battle, at the same time the presence of Ignes prevented the little yeti from being able to lend a hand to her companions, who, despite their discipline and willpower, struggled more and more to keep Eirinn's overwhelming troops at bay.

Then, here comes divine intervention.

"The mist! It's fading!"