~Flashback
Two years after Polon started the war, half of Devotion's territory had fallen. The enemy pressed forward toward the capital, where the emperor's castle stood. At that point, Polon's soldiers needed to capture only a few more towns to reach the heart of the empire.
Still, the front line held. Commanders such as Yuri, Daniel, and Liam, along with many other strong leaders, stood firm. Devotion's army had dwindled to 300,000 soldiers, while Polon still commanded 600,000. Nevertheless, the defenders fought hard, refusing to give in despite the odds.
Polon soon realized that forcing their way through the front would cost too many lives and bring little gain. So, they turned to a new tactic. In the west stood a single stronghold still holding its ground: Valkar Castle. A new idea was put forward: gather 100,000 soldiers to storm it while launching major assaults in the center and east. It was the largest attack yet. If Valkar fell, they could swing around from the west and surround Devotion's forces.
Roy and Andrew had been fighting on the Western Front since the beginning but were just common soldiers. In two years, they bonded with comrades but also lost many. Commanders in the West were constantly being killed in battle, poisoned, or assassinated. The army retreated repeatedly until they gathered at Valkar Castle, the last fortress in the west.
The vast castle of Valcar was built of gray stone and stretched across the hills of the western border. Its thick walls were high enough to overlook the distant valleys. Inside, the castle was divided into many sections, including barracks, storerooms, and training grounds, each overseen by its own commander. There were even homes with people living in them.
There were three huge gates at the front of the castle, wide enough for entire divisions to pass through. These were the castle's only main entrances, and everyone knew they would be the focus of any major attack. Large valleys and scattered forests behind the walls made it difficult to besiege the castle from all sides. In front of the castle were large plains and forests where the Polon army set up camp.
There were more than 100,000 soldiers in front of Valkar. Their banners filled the fields, their tents stretched for miles, and their siege engines had already been rolled into place. The Devotion soldiers on the walls could see it all—the endless lines of men and weapons tightening around them.
Polon sent a messenger before the first strike. He rode to the gates, demanding Valkar's surrender. The king refused, declaring Valkar would not bow easily.
Soon after, he gathered his ten commanders in the strategy room. Together, they would decide how to face the storm gathering outside. Among those commanders were Roy and Andrew. After two years of battles, they finally proved that they deserved their places. After saving the King of Valkar's life in the last battle, he especially liked them.
The long stone chamber of Valkar Castle was filled with the smell of burning torches and the faint echo of soldiers preparing for battle outside. In the middle stood a large oak table covered with maps and tokens marking fronts and enemy movements. The king sat at the table, with the ten commanders seated around it.
They were more than just commanders; they were also friends who fought alongside each other and trusted each other like brothers.
Each commander bore their own mark of battle:
Caldor, broad-shouldered, with long hair and a small beard. He carried a heavy iron mace. His arms bore scars from countless battles, but his smile was still warm, revealing his kindness despite his large size.
Lady Arwen, black eyes and hair. She used a bow and was known for her agility. Her sword hung at her hip. Calm, steady.
Gareth, elegant and proud, wielded a long sword polished like silver. His discipline was unmatched, and his voice often calmed others in the darkest of times.
Torvak, with his large beard and short hair, leaned on a long sword as if it were part of his body. A veteran warrior, his presence always commanded respect.
Darren, fiery and reckless, never left his sword, even sleeping with it. He was quick to anger, but quicker to defend his friends.
Seated at the head of the table, the King of Valkar spoke in a heavy voice. "Polon has sent a messenger with surrender terms. But Valkar has been known for a long time—we can't surrender. We will fight."
Nods filled the room. Some smiled grimly; others tightened their fists on their weapons.
But as the king leaned forward to mark the map, his hand froze. The color drained from his face. He coughed, once, twice.
Gareth stood up and shouted. "King Yorin!"
The king tried to stand up. Then, many of them stood. Andrew jumped up, trying to hold him. Then, he yelled. "Soldiers! Bring some water and the doctor, hurry!"
The soldiers came in with some water. Then, one of them called out, "One minute, and the doctor will be here!" Unfortunately, the king collapsed onto the table.
"Your Majesty!" Torvak roared, rushing to catch him with Andrew. Others surged forward, but it was too late—the king's lips had turned pale, his eyes already gone. Poison.
The room fell into stunned silence.
Then, without warning, one of the commanders rose with a flashing blade. In a single strike, he cut down the head of a girl, who was one of the commanders standing nearest. Blood splattered across the stone floor.
Everyone shouted at once, weapons drawn, but his face was already wet with tears. His voice cracked as he cried out:
"I'm sorry! They took my family… my little girl. They said if I didn't obey, she'd die! I had no choice!"
With a broken cry, he raised his sword again, moving toward another commander in blind desperation.
Everyone, including the soldier, rushed in to take him down.
But Andrew moved faster. He lunged, catching his blade with his axe, the clash ringing loud through the chamber. "Enough!" Andrew's voice thundered, straining as he forced him back. "You bastard!" Then he struck him in the jaw with the back of his axe, knocking him unconscious.
Darren said angrily, "Fucking traitor! What can we do without the king?! Now a commander is down as well."
Everyone was standing with their hands on their weapons, sadness and anxiety evident in their eyes.
In a sad voice, Torvak told the soldiers, "Take the king's body away. We lost him."
The soldiers were shocked when they saw the king's body. "How could this happen?" one soldier whispered under his breath.
Then Andrew added, "Take this guy and throw him in prison. We'll deal with him later."
Gareth looked at him as the soldiers took him away. "I can't believe Patios is a traitor. He was such a good guy."
Darren shouted. "I swear I will make every fucking Polon soldier die a painful death, those pigs!" His hands tighten on the handle of his chair.
Lady Arwen, standing beside him, put her hand on his shoulder and replied, "Calm down, Darren. We can't lose our temper right now."
The chamber fell into chaos.
Caldor shouted, slamming the table in anger over what had happened. "We can't hold out against a hundred thousand! I don't care about my life, but there are people here, and soldiers' families. We can't let them die easily." Then he looked at the ground his voice low. "The best decision is to surrender..."
Gareth interrupted, raising his voice. "I understand what you're saying, but we've spent our whole lives fighting. I won't surrender. It would bring me nothing but shame and humiliation."
A few sat in silence. Roy was among them; his sharp eyes fixed on Andrew. He wasn't waiting for the noise to fade; he was waiting for his brother's choice.
The argument grew hotter until—
BANG!
Andrew slammed his hand on the table so hard that the maps and tokens jumped. The echo silenced everyone. All eyes turned to him.
Andrew shouted. "Enough!"
Even though Andrew was the youngest after Roy, they all respected him from the very beginning. When he spoke, the silence swallowed the room.
He began moving between them, his voice steady yet fierce. "The king is gone, but Valkar still stands. It's not about surrendering or saving lives. If we surrender, all devotion will fall." Then, he threw his axe to the ground. "We'll just keep losing more and more lives. And in the end, we will all die."
His words echoed through the room. Some nodded in agreement, while others looked doubtful. However, none spoke out against him. Then he continued, "Come on, guys. We always fight shoulder to shoulder. Gareth?" He nudged him with his fist. "We can do it."
Then he jumped to Caldor, nudging him as well. "We don't surrender. That's not what we do, brother. Remember when you told us about your dreams? All of us will accomplish them after we win this war."
Then he finally turned to Roy, putting both hands on his shoulders. "We must vote for a temporary commander to lead this defense. We will fight and win!"
Everyone smiled at how smoothly he had made this happen. Darren said with a big smirk. "Well said! Let's teach those rats a lesson..."
Caldor replied, "I'm sorry for what I said. The king's death really disturbed me." He said, putting his iron mace on the table. "I'm ready to smash their heads,"
...
After the votes were tallied, Andrew was chosen with the majority of votes.
He sat on the king's seat, feeling the weight of the castle pressing down on his shoulders. He did not hesitate. His first order was swift.
"Toril," he said, pointing to the quiet commander, "Ride to the rear lines. Take some soldiers with you and bring back support from the camps. Do not delay."
Toril gave a curt nod. "Count on me, I'll do it." Then, without saying a word, he strode out.
Andrew turned back to the table. "We have twenty thousand men here, and four thousand horses. That's our strength." He raised his head and looked at them. "Ideas?"
Defend the gates. Form cavalry strikes. Hold the walls. Everyone at the table offered what they could.
Then, in a calm but direct tone, Roy spoke. "There's a village west of here. We can ask the villagers to join us in the fight. Maybe we can bring five hundred horses or more. If we reach them, they'll answer Valkar's call. That force could make a difference."
Andrew's eyes sharpened. He stood slowly, then looked straight at his brother. "Then you'll go, Roy. I trust you with this."
Roy's eyes widened. "What? I won't leave you here to face this alone. I'm not good at talking to people either." His gaze shifted to the experienced veteran. "You can send Torvak with his silver tongue instead."
Torvak chuckled under his beard. "I'll go if he asks. I don't mind, actually."
Roy shook his head, refusing to accept it. But Andrew stepped close, put his hand on Roy's neck, and spoke in a low voice in Roy's ear, so that only him could hear. "You're the only one I trust for this. I trust you'll return. Leave the rest to me here."
Roy's jaw tightened, his eyes betraying his worry. But after a long pause, he nodded. "Fine. But don't you dare fall while I'm gone."
Andrew smiled faintly and turned back to the table. "Perfect," he said, then looked at Torvak. "You can go with him and help him communicate with the people."
Torvak nodded gladly, then Andrew clapped his hands. "There's one more thing: Roy and Torvak won't go alone."
He let the words hang before continuing. "They'll take three thousand horsemen. They'll ride out the secret path from behind the castle."
The room erupted in protest.
"That's madness!"
"We can't spare that many riders!"
"They'll never make it through!"
Andrew raised a hand, silencing them once more. His voice was calm with a smirk. "Trust me. Now, I'll explain my plan. If it works, we'll turn the tables."
....
The commanders exchanged uneasy glances, especially since he was still young. None understood his full intent—but the conviction in his eyes left no space for doubt.
In the end, everyone nodded, knowing their roles.
Roy and Torvak left the room to prepare to move the 3,000 horsemen and bring more forces.
Then, the others stayed to talk about the strategy.
Suddenly, the walls and ground began to shake, and dust drifted from the ceiling. The table trembled, and the cups rattled. The sound of an explosion echoed, the sound of Polon's siege engines unleashing their first strike. Andrew shouted, "The attack has started! Come on, guys. Let's take our positions!"
Then, everyone left the room.
The ground shook beneath Andrew's boots as he and Darren walked along the inner walls. The sky filled with smoke and fire. Then, a huge rock crashed into the south wall, piercing and destroying it. Dust and rock fragments rained down. Soldiers screamed. One of the knights was crushed under the stones. His armor was torn from his arm before he could lift it.
Chaos reigned around them. Women and children ran through the streets, watched over by soldiers shouting, "To the shelters! Move!" Archers lined the walls and rooftops, trying to maintain order. However, another stone struck a cluster of houses below. Wooden beams broke, fires broke out, and people scattered.
A mother stumbled, clutching her child. A soldier grabbed her arm and dragged them both toward the shelters as another rock thundered down behind them. The sound of children crying over his dead mother echoed through the air as her body lay beneath the rubble of a destroyed house.
Andrew ran forward, his axe strapped to his back, shouting orders in a steady voice. "Fix that breach! Line up at the inner gate! Get the civilians underground!" His throat burned, and the smoke made it hard to breathe, but he didn't slow down. Darren walked beside him, his sword at his waist and his face grim.
"Andrew!" Darren shouted above the din, pointing to the wall where cracks were spreading. "If they break through the south gate, it's over."
Andrew looked at him, sweat pouring from his dust-covered face. "We won't let them in, even if they destroy it. Get the cavalry ready quickly. They'll start attacking soon. We have to stop them."
Suddenly, a loud explosion cut him off, ringing in their ears. They both put their hands over their heads to protect themselves. Then, Andrew shouted. "They'll expect us to defend. I want you to open the gates at my signal, as we agreed, with support from the archers on top of the wall."
Despite the chaos, Darren smiled broadly. "I'll rally the men. I think the other commanders have already started doing that, too."
Andrew climbed the stairs until he reached the edge of the wall. From there, he could see everything.
The plains below teemed with Polon's army—an endless sea of orange banners fluttering in the wind. Tens of thousands of soldiers stood in tight formation, their armor glistening in the light. They were slowly and harmoniously approaching the castle while catapults threw flaming rocks with every pull of the ropes. Giant bows mounted on wheels fired long spears that tore through the stone walls with terrifying force.
The earth itself seemed to groan under the weight of the army. Yet Andrew stood tall. Fear clawed at the men around him, but he felt none of it.
Andrew climbed down from the wall, his boots striking the stone steps loudly. Explosions boomed around him, but all eyes followed him.
He gave orders to evacuate and try to repair the wall as much as possible...
The first day of bombardment passed, with civilians hiding in shelters and places far from the siege fire, some crying over the loss of loved ones, others trembling with fear, unable to rest or sleep. The castle wall was still standing, more or less, and Polon's soldiers had begun their attack before reinforcements arrived from the rear lines.
Andrew was on the wall and saw the huge number of soldiers beginning to move toward them. Andrew climbed down. Explosions rang out around him from a new attack, but all eyes followed him.
In the courtyard below, the soldiers stood in rows, their shields on their arms and their swords in their trembling hands. The commanders were gathered nearby, silent, waiting for his word.
Andrew looked at them one by one. He saw it.
Fear.
Their eyes trembled, their lips tightened, and their hands shook on their hilts. Some of them were teenagers who had never known a peaceful life, yet here they stood, about to face a storm of tens of thousands of soldiers.
Andrew stepped forward and stood in front of a young soldier. He put his hands on his shoulders, his voice calm but forceful.
"You're scared, aren't you?" Then he looked at everyone.
"I see it in your eyes. Fear. No matter what we do, we can't get rid of it, and it's normal. Only fools walk toward death with a smile. But listen to me for a moment... Whether we like it or not, we have to fight here because we have to protect the entire empire."
The men stirred, some of them straightening up to listen to his words, others lowering their heads. Then, from the front row, a young soldier called out in a broken voice.
"You... are asking us to die there, then?"
He did not speak arrogantly or aggressively. His eyes were tearful, and his body was trembling. He spoke only the question that every man carried in his heart.
Andrew stepped forward until he was face to face with him. Then he replied in a steady voice.
"Yes, some will die. Maybe many or even all. But listen carefully—every soldier who died before us bought us this moment. They died with honor, and we must not smear it with dirt. They held on so that we could hold on today. Now, it's our turn to fight so that the next generation can do the same. So that our loved ones can grow up without restrictions. So that our names will not be forgotten in the dust."
He turned, raising his voice so that everyone in the courtyard could hear him.
"If we surrender, our families will be imprisoned and killed. Our children will never know freedom and comfort. But if we fight, if we bleed, if we fall, history will remember us. One day they will remember us as heroes who fought with determination and died with honor."
Some of the soldiers raised their heads, gathering their courage.
Suddenly, one of the archers shouted. "They're getting closer. Get your arrows ready!"
Dozens of Polon soldiers moved forward, carrying 3 heavy battering rams beneath a wooden shelter to protect themselves from the arrows.
Andrew looked at his soldiers, then turned and placed his hand on the trembling soldier's shoulder, holding it tightly with a smile.
"So, yes. We may die. But our death will build a future. And that is enough, isn't it?"
A whisper mingling fear and fury spread through the ranks. Darren smiled sarcastically, folding his arms as if he had heard enough. Then, one by one, the men raised their weapons—swords, axes, and shields—and clashed them against each other until the courtyard echoed with defiance.
Andrew turned, shouting above everyone else. "Today we make history! Today, we fight for every man, woman, and child who cannot! Open the doors!"
The soldiers hesitated, then obeyed. The iron gates groaned and split open. Light and smoke spilled in. Andrew lifted his axe high, his voice like steel.
"Show them what it means to face Devotion! I want eyes that thirst for blood, hands strong enough to tear their ranks apart, and voices loud enough to plant fear in their souls!"
Everyone behind him raised his armor and roared with a booming voice that echoed throughout the Polon army.
Andrew confidently held up his shield and raised his axe, roaring in defiance.
"PUSH FORWARD!"
The soldiers roared alongside him in a savage chorus that shook the walls. Their shields locked in perfect sync and their weapons lifted; they surged through the gate like an unstoppable wave.
Andrew was in the first row, running beside his friend Darren.
On the other side, the Polon soldiers froze in shock. They had expected a desperate defense, not an explosive counterattack. Some stumbled back, their discipline faltering. Fear flickered in their eyes, but they were well-trained.
They threw the battle rams and went into a defensive formation. However, many of them were already in a state of fear; being in the front row was not easy.
Devotion warriors crashed into them with fury, shouts and steel breaking through their lines.