Three weeks had passed since Valoria's armies set out from the capital. The
drums that thundered at their departure now lingered only as a faint memory,
replaced by the ceaseless rhythm of boots on soil, the smell of sweat and
horses, and the bark of orders carried across the wind. Thirty thousand
soldiers of Valoria now stood upon an open plain, facing Riverbend's frontier.
A river, a hundred meters wide, cut the land in two. Its waters surged fast
and pale, a living wall between the armies. Across the far bank, two thousand
Riverbend soldiers held their line. Archers stood rigid, bowstrings drawn, eyes
fixed on the tide preparing to crash against them.
Arthur climbed a low rise. His black-and-purple cloak whipped in the breeze,
his expression calm though his eyes gleamed with sharp intent.
"Today," he called, his voice carrying, "we do not attack. Today we build our
road."
The order spread. Squads disappeared into the forest, axes and saws ringing
through the air. Trees fell, cut into ten-meter lengths, squared into planks.
Soon, piles of timber grew into small mountains. At the rear, seventy mana
cannons were rolled from their flatbeds—giant barrels engraved with glowing
runes, crystal hearts pulsing blue, the air humming as if the weapons hungered
to fire.
Night fell. Fires burned low in Valoria's camp, but no one sang. Soldiers
strapped shields tighter, honed blades, or stared silently into the dark
current. Along the bank, two thousand mages gathered in cohorts. Arthur walked
among them, steady and sure, every eye turning as he passed.
"You will raise the riverbed," he told them. "Mounds five meters apart, five
hundred meters long. At dawn, these planks will span them into a bridge. That
will be our road."
Hadrick's gravelly voice followed. "Cohorts one to fifty, north sector.
Fifty to a hundred, center. The rest, south. None of you fail."
A low chorus of incantations filled the night. Blue light bled across the
water. Mud, stone, and sand lifted from the depths, shaping into mounds that
rose above the current. One after another, they emerged in a perfect line. From
the far shore, Riverbend's watchmen saw the glow but did not strike. They only
stared, unsettled by what they could not yet comprehend.
Dawn broke under heavy mist. The river that once stood impassable now bore a
neat chain of earthen mounds. Arthur raised his hand.
"Artillery—ready."
Operators loaded crystal cores into the cannon chambers. Runes lit bright,
metal thrummed.
"Fire."
Seventy thunderclaps tore apart the morning. Mana bullets streaked through
fog, each the size of a man's chest. They slammed into Riverbend's front lines.
The earth convulsed, bodies flung skyward, formations shattered. Screams cut
through smoke and dust.
One defender caught a glimpse of blue too late. He raised his shield—but the
projectile burst before he blinked. Heat and debris swallowed him whole. When
the haze lifted, a thousand Riverbend soldiers were gone—some consumed by the
current, others ripped apart where they stood.
Arthur's hand rose again. "Lay the planks."
Valorian squads surged forward, four men to a beam, slamming boards onto the
mounds. The pounding of timber echoed over the water until the bridge stretched
wide like a giant's tongue across the current.
"Infantry, forward!" Lionel Drest bellowed.
The first ranks advanced, shields locked, boots thundering. Arrows and
fireballs rained from the fortress. Valorian mages cast barriers overhead, but
gaps remained. Boards splintered, men plunged into the torrent, their cries
swallowed by the river. Two hundred were lost to the waters that day.
Still the army pressed on, relentless. Behind them, the cannons roared
again, suppressing the defenders. Soon, the first Valorian soldiers set foot on
the far bank. Engineers strained ropes and braces, dragging the massive guns
across. Wheel by wheel, plank by plank, the engines of war joined the army.
Arthur stood upon Riverbend's soil, eyes fixed on the fortress gate, a
shimmering barrier sealing it. He raised his hand once more.
"One point. Break it."
The cannons answered. A single barrage hammered the gate, the barrier
flared, cracked, and shattered in a blaze of light. A roar went up from
Valoria's host.
"Second volley. The wall."
Stone erupted as the cannons struck again, opening a yawning breach beside
the gate. Dust clouded the air, rubble raining down.
"Infantry, charge!" Lionel's sword swept high as he led the assault.
Steel met steel in brutal clash. A thousand Riverbend defenders fought
desperately in the breach, spears stabbing, voices raised in defiance. One
young archer lifted his bow for the last time, his eyes meeting his foe's
before a blade pierced his chest. He crumpled, clutching the wood as blood
stained the stones.
The fighting was savage. Arrows fell, spells lit the air, blades cut and
shields broke. But Riverbend's line could not withstand the tide. One by one
they fell, until the streets themselves ran red. By noon, the last defender lay
dead. A thousand had perished in the melee. None fled. None surrendered.
When the dust settled, Valoria's banners rose over the shattered wall.
Soldiers re-formed, mages redrew wards, battered men lifted scarred shields.
Arthur stood amidst the ruin, gaze already fixed beyond toward Riverbend's
heart. Elara came to his side, her eyes hard.
"The gate is open," Arthur said.
Elara nodded. "And now the road home begins."
That evening, scribes recorded the toll. Two thousand Riverbend dead—half at
the river, half within the breach. From Valoria, two hundred drowned in the
crossing. Their names were written, one by one, so none would be lost to
memory.
Night fell. Fires glowed across the Valorian camp. Some cheered, voices high
with victory. Yet in the shadows, quiet sobs marked the price of war.
Behind them, the river flowed again, calm as if nothing had happened. But
every soldier who looked back knew better. Riverbend's border was broken, and
Valoria now stood deep within enemy ground.