A weary historian dies and finds himself in a different world awakened in a life as the notorious young Duke of a southern state. His nation is weakened, his army underfed, and his neighbors revolve around his lands menacingly. No one believes his land is going to hold out until winter.

But this newfound duke is no naive simpleton his enemies recollect. He carries with him the experience of centuries of war and empire, of starting and ending monarchies. From Caesar to Napoleon, from the Mongols to world wars, he has learned from each of them—and his strategy is to make history his very own arms.

He organizes his smashed levies into well-trained formations, rebuilds his castles, and turns his villages into supply centers. Where others see defeat, he senses opportunity. As he triumphs, rumors spread: of a pennant red as winter snow that shall not go to ground, of a bloody duke who writes his name in gore and flame.

Is he a savior who's constructing a new empire, or a tyrant who's going to bring the world to endless war?

Their brief conversation was immediately cut short as Ilmund was already arriving, and compared to the first battle, they had fully abandoned all strategy and resorted to pure brute force.


And he couldn't blame them; the flames from their swords were literally melting the snow while they sprinted, and it no longer slowed them down.


Justinian lowered his arm, signalling to everyone stationed in the walls to prepare for battle.


Trebuchets, cannons, ballistae, all three firing in unison as it aimed to shred through their ranks.


And while it was successful, it made no difference in their morale, not with Ilmund singlehandedly cleaving through both stone and bolts on his own.


The ceasefire had allowed him to get attuned completely to his arcanist abilities.


"The spearmen from the first line won't hold."


Justinian yelled out, already ordering the second line to help support the first. They grew stronger than he had expected.


Chapter 108 - Frost and Fire