At Jovtan Pass the situation had effectively come to a standstill in recent weeks.

Under constant attack from scattered blockhouses and casemates, as well as occasional night-time cavalry raids, the imperial legions had managed to capture less than half of the gorge.

The Free State army was defending itself in an orderly fashion, abandoning compromised positions to retreat to more rearward and defensible ones; on the other hand, Orestes' soldiers were forced to always proceed in the open, making themselves vulnerable.

As if that were not enough, Orestes had preferred to store supplies in a fort on the northern side of the valley, rather than keeping them close to the main army where they could be targeted by the enemy. However, this meant that the more territory was conquered, the longer it took to bring supplies to the front lines, worsening the discontent and discouragement of the troops.

All things considered, it was going better than Daemon had hoped; thanks also to Septimus, who seemed to have finally settled down and was commanding his troops like a true general, even though he was not without some impulsive actions that made the soldiers love him.

For this reason, when Daemon had called him with the Eye of Gaia ordering him to organize a truce and a meeting with General Orestes, the last thing Septimus would have expected was to see his friend appear side by side with Aria.

Seeing them, Septimus shortly recalled that night so many years ago, understanding why he had already thought they were made for each other.

And even if for different reasons than Scalia, Septimus didn't seem too happy about the turn of events either.

"This is the situation. From this moment on, the Imperial Army and the Grand Army are formally allies. We have already begun preparations, and by tomorrow morning we will be marching to join you. The planned place to intercept the Union Army is the Solea Plain, just south of the valley."

"You must occupy the heights around the village and prevent Medici from advancing any further," Aria said. "Keep them occupied until we arrive. We will be there within a week."

"The enemy is only five days from Solea," Orestes said. "And if the numbers you speak of are true, they have nearly four times our strength. How can we hope to hold out that long?"

"I have already sent a messenger to Adrian. He will arrive there in time to assist you. As for Athreia, her knights have orders to conduct assaults and raids against supplies. This should slow down Medici considerably and give you time to organize an effective defense."

Septimus felt himself sweating at the thought of having to explain to his soldiers why from now on they would have to fight side by side with the very same people who until a few hours before had been their enemies.

"Once you reach the valley, General Longinus will be in charge until we arrive," Aria said. "But until you get there, General Orestes will be in charge."

"What!? Daemon..."

"Save your breath, Septimus. We've talked about this, and I agree. Contact us once you've reunited with Adrian. That's all."

The magical image then disappeared, and Septimus was left alone with Orestes to chew the bitter pill.

The Imperial General was not too happy with the turn of events either, but he respected and recognized Aria's authority. Moreover, in those two long weeks of fighting he had learned to appreciate the enemy's courage and intelligence, as well as the dedication they put into a cause they believed in with all their heart; so, all things considered, he did not mind having the possibility of sparing them.

"I'm going back to my camp. We need to leave before dawn if we want to be in Solea by nightfall. Since this is your land, I'll leave it to you to show us the way."

"Let's get one thing straight, I'm only doing this because Daemon told me to," Septimus said through gritted teeth.

"Your esteem for Lord Haselworth is undoubtedly great. But it could not be otherwise, since from what I have heard you were the first of many who have taken off the imperial uniform to follow him."

Realizing almost immediately that he had struck a raw nerve, Orestes preferred not to rage further and left, leaving Septimus free to throw a jug of water against the wall.



Solea was a small village that everyone knew for the sole reason that nearby was the point where both the Via Magna to Dundee and the Ducal Road to the Empire converged on the road between Basterwick and the Castle, forming the busiest crossroads in the region.

Whoever controlled Solea controlled the Free State, and you only had to be a mediocre strategist to know that.

The crossroads was on a small plain dominated to the north by the southern edge of the high Jovtan mountains and to the south by low hills; descending towards the valley, the bed of the stream widened to form a wide and shallow stony bank, which at that time of year was almost completely covered by the incessant roar of the water.

Confusion, frustration, and even a little anger reigned among the soldiers.

When you spend your whole life at war or in close contact with death, holding a grudge against the enemy is a waste of time, and the fact that many soldiers of the Second Corps were former legionnaires captured or surrendered in the early days of the Revolution was proof of this.

On the contrary, it was the Imperial soldiers who never missed an opportunity to provoke and reproach their old comrades for their past, calling them traitors or making their lives difficult; not to mention what the Imperial Army used to do to the soldiers of the Free State who were unfortunate enough to fall alive into enemy hands.

To be fair, both Aria and Oreste had categorically forbidden any kind of reprisal against the prisoners, even if they were deserting legionaries, but in such a complicated situation it was difficult to keep everything under control; and every now and then someone got carried away.

Long story short, the descent from Jovtan was the quietest, most groaning march ever.

When the two armies finally arrived at Solea, Adrian and the First Corps were already there and had set up their camp on the northwest hill, which overlooked the road to the Castle.

A messenger arrived with orders to set up two more camps, Septimus' on the northeast hill above Solea and Orestes' right next to Adrian's; while the soldiers obeyed, the two Generals with some attendants in tow reached Adrian in his tent for the briefing.

"I would say to start this briefing by saying out loud what everyone here is thinking. Yes, this whole situation is absurd to say the least. But in war sometimes it doesn't take much to shuffle the cards, and today we had proof of that. I assume you know more than I do about what kind of deal Daemon has made with the Emperor, but to be honest, I don't care right now. What matters is that we are here, that a huge army is advancing from the south, and that if we hope to get out of this alive, we have to work together."

"How long will it take for the Union Army to get here?" Orestes asked.

"According to the scouts, Medici has slowed down considerably over the past two days. Athreia must be raising hell in the back. Even so, it's unlikely that Daemon and Lady Montgomery will get here before him. At best, they could arrive a few hours later, but even then it'll be up to us to stop the first attack."

Adrian then spread out a map of the area on the table, with the positions of the troops and the front lines already marked.

"Our goal is twofold. We must prevent Medici from continuing towards the Castle, and at the same time maintain control of the battlefield until Daemon arrives with reinforcements."

"Their army outnumbers ours," said Orestes. "How can we do that?"

"We'll meet them here. This hill is very steep, and it starts just beyond the road. If we form two lines and keep control of the slope, we can hit them from above with arrows, rifles, and mortars."

"There are no trees or rocks. Won't it be too exposed?"

"I'm already building log barriers and barricades along the less steep points. They'll surely be tired from the march, even if they manage to climb it will be child's play to hold them back."

"And what about me?" asked Septimus almost annoyed. "What's my task?"

"I brought all the cannon I could from Grote Muren. The Jovtan is swollen by the recent rains, so the two bridges will be essential to getting across. You'll position the cannons on this hill, just west of your base camp. From here you'll be able to take aim at anyone who tries to cross the stream."

"Is that all!? Should I just stand there and wait?"

"If Medici takes both sides of the stream, it's all over for us. We know he tried to build a pontoon bridge downstream, but the current swept it away. He'll try anything to take them, and if he succeeds, we won't be able to reunite with Daemon. We need to keep the valley in our possession, no matter what, is it clear?"

Septimus clenched his fists: "Perfectly. In that case, I'd better go and organize the transport of the cannons right away. You can stay here with your new friend, since you two already get along so well."

As soon as he left the tent Septimus was immediately surrounded by his officers, eager to know if from now on they would really have to fight side by side with the Empire.

"I understand what you are feeling, friends. This thing pisses me off too. But unfortunately there is nothing we can do about it."

"I think Mister Haselworth has lost his mind. It is unthinkable to make deals with those Imperial dogs."

"Mind your language! I don't let anyone talk about Daemon like that. We have always trusted him and his judgment, and we will continue to do so."

"General, with all due respect to Messer Daemon, I did not join the Revolution to find myself fighting for those bastards again."

"He's right. I have fought the Barons for three years, and I have seen what the Imperials do to the rebels they capture."

"I have fought the rebels, too, and I am as anxious as you are for our comrades who have fallen into their hands. General Orestes has assured me that they are all well, and that their release is part of the alliance agreement."

"You must be grateful to our Generals. If it were up to me, they would all be hanging on crosses on the road to Rhodes."

The speaker was a Centurion from Orestes's entourage, who, in defiance of any reverence for where he was or fear for the way everyone began to stare at him, went even harder.

"Our General could challenge even the armies of Belion. I see no reason why we should associate with such rabble. As far as I'm concerned, there is only one treatment for those who rebel, and that is the same as we have applied to the Barons in the east."

His own companions tried to tell him to hold back, also because it seemed that the soldiers all around were about to forget what happened to those who raised their hands on a superior.

But the problem was Septimus, the only one with enough rank not to have to worry about this problem.

"General, please. It's not worth it."

The boy snorted like a raging bull, but seemed to calm down: "You're right. It's not worth it."

He then started to leave, but unfortunately, that was only the beginning.

"Wait, I know you. You were there, too, fighting the Barons. Yeah, I remember now. You're that brat who cried all day because his friend had lost an arm. I can't believe it. You, a General. Apparently, in this shitty Free State any incompetent can get ahead. Maybe I should run, too. I'm not surprised you've been reduced to—"

Septimus was half his size and strength, but he had been charging into brawls since he was eight, and he knew how to beat someone bigger and stronger than him.

His fist blew off the Centurion's nose, and he went flying, covered in grass and mud.

"You brat, I'll show you!"

No one did anything to stop them; on the contrary, a small crowd of spectators quickly formed, because everyone was eager to enjoy the scene of this braggart being beaten.

Septimus gave and took several blows; and the situation was essentially a draw when the roar of a shot acting as a gong interrupted the match.

"I obviously wasn't clear enough!" Adrian declared, his gun still pointed upwards and Orestes at his side. "Whatever happened between us, we are now officially allies. Which means that this kind of thing is intolerable. Not to mention the unseemly spectacle of an Army General punching a redneck in front of the command tent."

"Who are you calling a redneck, you traitor? Look, we all know what you've done. I'd love to stick a knife in your stomach."

Adrian looked at him almost pityingly, and before leaving, he whispered in Orestes' ear: "You know what to do."

Orestes knew that man; a violent and certainly not easy person, but very brave and extremely loyal, who had faithfully followed Aria since before her rebellion.

"Arrest him."

The other Centurions hesitated, but after the second warning, they quickly obeyed.

"General, what-"

"Not only have you disrespected two Generals, you have also attacked one. You know what awaits you. Crucify him."

Even the soldiers of the Grand Army seemed unable to believe it.

"General, with all due respect, he certainly made a mistake, but-"

"I said, to the cross. Where everyone can see him."

"General, wait. I'm sorry, I... Please, General! General!"

Orestes then went to meet Septimus, who, seeing him approaching, pushed away his subordinates who had helped him to his feet.

"I apologize for what happened. That man will receive his rightful punishment. And I assure you it will never happen again."

Septimus still had a bit of self control to understand that asking for clemency for that man, besides being useless, would only humiliate him even more and so he left, kicking down a rack of weapons before mounting his horse.



Michael didn't like fighting, but he wasn't so foolish as not to know that in the Union, more than anywhere else in Erthea, you couldn't aspire to a career if you weren't familiar with military matters.

And one of the first things they taught at the Academy, with unsuspected intellectual honesty, was that the Union Army had only one thing better than all its neighbors: large numbers.

Wartime conscription and strong incentives to have many children allowed tens of thousands of men to be called to arms in a short time, but at the same time, the natural shortage of mineral deposits made it very difficult to provide quality weapons for everyone.

Thus the Union army had the reputation of being the largest, and at the same time the worst armed in all of Erthea.

Wave attacks were by far the favorite of many Generals, and in some cases the only ones capable of having any effect against the compact Imperial legions, Connelly's knights, or the heavy infantry of the Kingdom.

Michael wanted to overturn this tradition, and from his first day as President he began an intense training campaign aimed at creating smaller, better-armed and better-trained divisions in all branches of the army, capable of competing on equal terms with their adversaries without having to resort to stupid suicide charges.

These elite units formed the backbone of the new army, and because of their importance Michael avoided deploying them in the front lines; their experience was too valuable to be risked in that way. Usually they were immediately behind, ready to take over once the shock of the first confrontation had been absorbed.

The Durrat War had demonstrated the effectiveness of this method, but what was looming on the horizon as the army approached the crossroads of Solea would be the first real battle for the Union since the secession.

But evidently the Empire feared the Union and its expansionist aims even more than it feared Daemon and the Revolution, and that was something perhaps not even Michael expected.

An alliance between the Empire and the Free State was something difficult to predict, which took both Medici and all his collaborators by surprise.

Yet another tactical-diplomatic masterpiece by Daemon, Ademar, or both, and the only thing truly capable of subverting the otherwise predictable outcome of that campaign.

Michael was aware that his wait-and-see behavior had certainly contributed to creating the conditions for this alliance, but he did not intend to play into the enemy's hands by changing his ways.

Of course, retreating and losing face was out of the question at that point, not to mention the chance of closing the matter with a single campaign.

But only a fool or an arrogant person would not have had a few doubts when he thought he was dealing with two superior military minds like Daemon Haselworth and Aria Montgomery at the same time.

The important thing, Michael thought, was to get as far as possible into the best possible position before those two arrived with the bulk of their armies, which meant he had to take control of the crossroads.

And since the Jovtan's rushing current had prevented the construction of a pontoon bridge downstream, such control could not be achieved without taking the entire valley, including the two bridges that spanned the stream.

Searching the fortress on the great bridge, Michael and Lawrence had found remarkably accurate maps of every region of the Free State, which would surely prove very useful in planning the battle.

Unfortunately, Daemon seemed impossible to surprise; after a couple of days of relatively calm advance, the constant attacks on the rear and supply wagons by small groups of centaurs had slowed the advance considerably, as well as exhausting and depriving the soldiers of sleep with night attacks and raids.

And so it was that when the army finally came within sight of the crossroads the situation had become considerably complicated, and the enemy had already taken firm possession of all the strategic points from which it could easily control the entire valley.

Two high hills stood across the road from Basterwick to the Castle. The one to the west was manned by the bulk of both Imperial and Free State forces, holed up behind trenches and log barriers, while the one to the east had been filled with guns capable of wiping out anyone who attempted to approach the bridges, which were still intact but manned by small garrisons.

Since each Army and Legion had its own flag, Michael and Lawrence quickly learned the enemy's disposition.

"General Septimus is in charge of the artillery and holding the bridges, as expected," Lawrence said.

"He has held the position at Mistvale under heavy numbers, and has reportedly held off the Imperial assault along the northern valley for two weeks. Defensive battles are his forte."

"It was predictable that they would choose him. Marquis Longinus and General Orestes, on the other hand, are masters of attack."

"Longinus seeks out the weak point with targeted attacks at various points along the line, while Orestes advances gradually, conquering one position at a time."

"I suggest a diversionary action. We should attack the main force on the western hill, and in the meantime try to cut a path through their artillery to take the bridge. With the stream in this condition, it's impossible that they have built any footbridges further north, which means that they are as hampered in communication between the two banks as we are."

"That's why they'll want to keep the bridges at all costs. But if they realize they're about to lose them, they might decide to blow them up. Of course, that would be to our advantage the most, so I don't think they'll resort to that unless they're desperate."

The Union army then began to deploy for battle, forming a strong center supported on the right and left by two wings, a lighter left facing Adrian's First Corps and a heavier one on the right intended to attempt to take control of the bridges.

After he had finished deploying his men on the left wing, Lawrence rode back to Michael: "Well? Any ideas?"

Michael took the spyglass he had found after the capture of the fort on the Jesi and peered deep into the heart of the enemy rear, managing to make out in the distance the Generals themselves surrounded by their subordinates.

If Adrian Montgomery and General Oreste seemed calm and confident, the President noticed something strange in Septimus, who was pacing nervously back and forth with his hands behind his back.

"Tom."

"Yes, sir?"

"Take this to General Mart on the right wing. And give him my regards."

"Right away, Sir."