The wind howled across the northern plains as Kael's newly formed legion departed from Adenfall. Over one hundred strong, they marched with stolen armor, mismatched weapons, and a hunger born not of loyalty but of ambition and survival.
Kael led from the front, Ashveil sheathed at his back, his black cloak billowing like a shadow behind him. Mira rode beside him on a small horse, visibly tense but resolute. Rogan followed on foot with the veterans, barking orders, forcing discipline into the ragtag mob.
They were not yet an army.
But Kael would make them one.
By the third day, they reached the edge of Stonehaven's outer hills. The fortress stood atop a cliff ridge, its gray stone walls jutting from the land like jagged teeth. Fires burned along its towers. Crimson banners of the Velkar Empire snapped in the wind.
"Two hundred soldiers," Rogan reported. "Well trained. Archers on the walls. Mages posted at the gate."
Kael nodded.
"And reinforcements?"
"None nearby. But if they signal, they'll have a legion in a week."
Kael knelt, spreading a map across the cold earth. Mira hovered beside him, watching his expression tighten as he examined the terrain.
"There's a dry riverbed," she pointed. "Cuts under the southeast wall. Hidden by thorns. Could fit a small group."
Kael glanced at her. "You're learning."
He stood and addressed the warband.
"Tonight, we take Stonehaven. We strike from the dark. We climb their walls and slit their throats. We do not ask for glory. We claim it."
That night, as stars spilled across the sky like silver blood, Kael led a strike team through the thorn-choked ravine. Mira followed, cloaked in shadows. Ten of the best fighters crawled behind, blades drawn, nerves tight.
The entrance was narrow, an old drainage channel just large enough to crawl through.
Inside, the air stank of mold and rot. Rats scattered at their approach.
Kael's hand glowed with a faint rune of silence. No footsteps echoed. No metal clanged.
They emerged beneath the fortress, hidden in shadow.
Kael gestured, and the group split. Mira and two others moved toward the mage quarters while Kael and the rest crept toward the gate mechanism.
Within minutes, the first blood was drawn. A guard gurgled quietly as Kael's blade pierced his heart. Another fell before he could cry out.
Kael moved like a wraith.
Above, chaos erupted as the gate began to rise. Rogan and the main force charged in with a roar, weapons gleaming under the moonlight.
The battle was swift and brutal.
The Velkar soldiers were trained but unprepared for madness. They fell in droves to fire magic and ambush strikes. Mira unleashed a burst of flame that melted through a wooden tower, burying a squad in ash.
Kael confronted the fortress commander atop the central rampart. The man was clad in full silver plate, wielding a two-handed rune sword glowing with Tier 3 magic.
"You're mad!" the commander spat. "You're nothing but a rogue warlord!"
Kael's smile was cold. "And yet, here you are, dying in your own keep."
Their blades clashed in a flurry of sparks and magic. The commander struck hard, breaking stone with each swing. But Kael was faster. Smarter. He didn't overpower. He dismantled.
With a final strike, Ashveil plunged through armor, carving through bone.
The commander fell.
By dawn, Stonehaven was theirs.
Kael stood atop the ramparts, overlooking the bloodstained field. His banner, black flame on crimson, was raised high above the walls.
Cheers erupted below.
Rogan approached, armor streaked with blood. "We lost twenty. Took out over two hundred."
"Acceptable," Kael said. "This is just the beginning."
Mira stepped forward, wiping soot from her cheek. "What now?"
Kael looked to the horizon, where more cities, more armies, and more thrones awaited.
"Now," he said, "we send a message to the Velkar Empire."
He turned to the surviving Velkar prisoners and pointed.
"Burn their colors. Leave one alive. Tell him to run. Let the Emperor know I am coming."