The pre-dawn chill in the hidden mountain encampment was thick with the scent of pine and anticipation. Kael, clad in dark, practical armor, stood with Aether beside him, the dragon's scales shimmering faintly in the moonlight. Around them, the 6,000 Zunian loyalists moved with a quiet, purposeful energy. They were a diverse force—veteran soldiers who had escaped Valerius's purge, eager young men and women who had suffered under his tyranny, and grizzled hunters from the mountains. Their equipment was indeed piecemeal, but their eyes burned with a fervent, unwavering loyalty.
General Theronis, his face grim but resolute, stood by Kael, flanked by Advisor Kaelan, Captain Jorun, and Captains Lyraen and Borin. The final tactical briefing was done, the plans etched into the minds of every commander. Kael had spent the night reviewing maps, visualizing the battlefield, and refining his strategies with his Zunian advisors. They had been surprised, then deeply impressed, by his sharp mind, his ability to not only grasp their intelligence but to weave it into audacious, yet seemingly plausible, plans.
"Valerius's forces are camped approximately ten miles to the east, near the confluence of the Silvervein River and the Iron Pass," General Theronis stated, his voice low. "Their main body, ten thousand strong, is divided into three legions. The central legion, and the most dangerous, consists of fifteen hundred elite Eldorian troops. They are disciplined, well-equipped, and utterly ruthless. The remaining eight thousand five hundred are Zunian conscripts and mercenaries, less fanatical, but still formidable under Eldorian command."
"Our first strike," Kael said, his voice steady, "will be at their supply lines. Captain Jorun, your team knows the Serpent's Coil best. You will lead a swift detachment – two hundred of our fastest, stealthiest loyalists – to neutralize the minimal guards and disrupt the Eldorian supply route by dawn. Cut off their food, their water, their fresh munitions. Make them hungry, thirsty, and unsure."
Jorun nodded, a grim smile on his scarred face. "It will be done, my King."
"Captains Lyraen and Borin," Kael continued, gesturing to the map. "You will command our two main flanking forces. Lyraen, you take the northern ridge, a thousand strong. Borin, the southern, also a thousand. You will move through the tree lines, concealed, until the main engagement begins. Your objective is not to engage until ordered, but to be ready to fall upon their flanks when their formations are broken."
"And the rest of our forces, my Prince?" Borin asked.
"General Theronis and I, with Aether, will lead the main force of four thousand directly towards the enemy's encampment, acting as the main bait," Kael explained. "We will provoke them, draw them into the open fields south of the Iron Pass, terrain we've chosen and prepared."
Advisor Kaelan stroked his beard. "A risky gambit, my King. To present a smaller, less-trained force against their main body."
"Risky, but necessary," Kael countered, his eyes burning with strategic calculation. "They expect us to be fragmented, desperate, perhaps to strike at the Iron Pass. We will shatter that expectation. They will see us, a seemingly smaller force, and their Eldorian arrogance will demand a swift, decisive victory. They will commit. And that is when we spring our traps."
He walked to a cleared patch of ground, and with a sweep of his hand, channeled Earth magic, raising miniature hills and valleys, marking out the intended battlefield. "We will use the undulations of the terrain. Captain Jorun's disruption will make them impatient. When they charge, their superior numbers will tempt them to spread out. This is where Air magic comes into play."
With a thought, a cool breeze swirled around his fingers. "Aether, you and I will generate a concentrated gale, a localized storm of wind and dust, obscuring their vision at critical moments. Disorienting their ranks, masking our movements. Water magic will turn dry patches into treacherous mud, slowing their charges, making their disciplined lines falter." A small puddle formed and rippled at his feet. "And if they try to hold formation, Fire magic will be their undoing, creating diversions or breaking their cohesion where they are most vulnerable." A miniature flame danced on his palm. "And Thunder... Thunder will be the shock that shatters their will when they are already reeling." A faint crackle of energy jumped between his fingers.
His loyalist commanders watched, mesmerized. Kael wasn't just talking about tactics; he was demonstrating the raw, creative power that would turn the tide. They saw the king who could reshape the battlefield itself.
"Our goal," Kael concluded, "is not a prolonged siege of their camp. Our goal is to break their army in the field, scatter their forces, and demonstrate that Valerius's grip is not absolute. A decisive victory here will inspire the silent masses to rise."
General Theronis's grim countenance softened into a look of absolute conviction. "Your father would be proud, my King. You lead with wisdom beyond your years."
As the first sliver of dawn painted the sky, the main loyalist force began its silent march. Kael, astride Aether, felt the ground tremble with the muffled tread of thousands of feet. He saw the anxious, yet determined, faces of his people. This was not just a battle; it was the reawakening of Zuna. His heart beat a steady rhythm, a fusion of excitement, apprehension, and a deep-seated fury. The faces of Lyra, his father, and the suffering Zunian people flashed through his mind, hardening his resolve.
"Are you ready, Aether?" Kael thought to his dragon, his voice steady in their mental link.
Always, my King, Aether resonated back, a deep, powerful hum of unwavering loyalty. For Zuna.
They moved towards the rising sun, towards the camp of their oppressors, towards the open field that would become either their grave or the birthplace of a new future for Zuna. The Serpent's Coil would be their entry, and the open field, their destiny.