The predawn air tasted of cold metal and damp earth as Aether and I moved, a silent, powerful shadow amidst the 6,000 loyalist Zunian troops. My heart hammered a steady rhythm against my ribs, not from fear, but from the immense weight of purpose settled upon my shoulders. This was it. The first true step. The path to reclaim Zuna began here, in this cold, dark field, against an enemy numerically superior and, as General Theronis had grimly reminded me, better trained.
I could feel the apprehension rippling through our ranks. I saw it in the tightened grips on worn sword hilts, the quick, nervous glances cast at the eastern horizon where Valerius's forces lay encamped. They were brave, these men and women who had endured years of tyranny, but they were about to face a hardened occupation army, including the fearsome Eldorian elite. My gaze swept over them, absorbing their fear, their hope, their desperate loyalty. I had to be more than just a prince; I had to be their unwavering beacon.
"Are we in position, Captain Jorun?" I mentally queried, my thoughts reaching out to the old guard captain, who rode just ahead of Aether, a silent guide.
Just so, my King, Jorun's response was crisp in my mind. My detachment moves to cut the Coil now. They will find the Eldorian guards sleeping, or very nearly so.
Good. The first domino. The Serpent's Coil, that narrow, treacherous canyon, was Valerius's weak point, their exposed supply line. Jorun's small, stealthy team of two hundred of our best infiltrators would disrupt it, sowing chaos and doubt before the battle even truly began. Starve them before we fight them.
I felt Aether shift beneath me, his powerful muscles bunching, ready. His presence alone was a massive morale boost, a living symbol of our ancient heritage and our king's return. I could sense his excitement, a primal eagerness for the coming storm.
We reached the designated rise, a low ridge overlooking a wide, gently undulating plain. The perfect ground. My gaze swept across it, visualizing the movements I had meticulously planned with General Theronis, Advisor Kaelan, and Captains Lyraen and Borin. Every dip, every hidden gully, every cluster of trees was a potential advantage.
Below us, I could just make out the sprawling, ordered camp of Valerius's army. Even from this distance, their discipline was evident in the neat rows of tents, the precise layout of their watchtowers, the methodical patrols. Ten thousand strong, I reminded myself, with 1,500 of them Eldorian devils. This wouldn't be easy. This wouldn't be glorious in the way the bards sang of battles. This would be a brutal, bloody fight for freedom.
I took a deep breath, the cold air filling my lungs. It was time. Time to speak to my people.
"General Theronis," I said, my voice cutting through the hushed tension of our forward command. "Ready the loyalists. I will address them."
Theronis nodded, his eyes shining with a deep, unwavering loyalty. He raised a hand, and a ripple went through our ranks. The loyalists, though tired from the long night march, began to form up, their eyes turning towards me, towards Aether. I dismounted, the Blade of Aethel feeling like an extension of my arm, its hilt warm against my palm. Aether lowered his head slightly, his great, ancient eyes fixed on the men and women before us, his presence radiating strength.
I stepped forward, letting my voice carry, letting the raw power I had cultivated for six years resonate in every syllable.
"Zunian brothers and sisters!" My voice was not a shout, but a clear, commanding resonance that seemed to fill the very air, carrying across the ranks. "Look around you! Look at the faces of your neighbors, your friends, your family! Look at the land beneath your feet, the land that is Zuna! Is this the Zuna our ancestors forged with blood and spirit? Is this the freedom they died for?"
A low murmur, a growl of shared pain, rippled through the loyalists. I let it hang in the air for a moment, letting the shared grievance bind us.
"No!" I roared, my voice now rising, infused with the fury that still burned within me for Lyra, for my father, for every Zunian soul crushed under the tyrant's heel. "For six long years, Valerius, the usurper, has bled our lands dry! He has shackled our people, desecrated our traditions, and made us slaves in our own homes! He has brought Eldorian butchers to rule over us, men who know nothing of Zunian honor, who care nothing for Zunian life!"
I saw anger flicker in their eyes, the embers of their oppression rekindling into defiance.
"They outnumber us! They are trained in their rigid formations! They believe they are invincible!" I gestured towards the enemy camp, my voice filled with scorn. "They are predictable! They are arrogant! They have forgotten what it means to face the true spirit of Zuna!"
I gripped the Blade of Aethel, raising it high. The blade pulsed with the multi-elemental light, a beacon in the dim light of dawn. Aether let out a low, resonant rumble, a sound that vibrated through the earth itself.
"But we," I continued, my voice now softer, more intimate, yet no less powerful, "we are Zunians! We carry the blood of kings and warriors! We fight for our homes, for our freedom, for the memory of our fallen! We fight for a future where no Zunian child ever fears the knock on the door!"
I pointed to Aether, his magnificent form now clearly visible as dawn broke fully. "We have the elements on our side! We have the power of our ancestors! We have Aether, the very spirit of Zuna, who flies with us! We have courage born of desperation! We have the will to reclaim what is ours!"
"They may be numerous, but their hearts are empty. Their cause is tyranny. Our cause is justice! Our cause is freedom! Our cause is ZUNA!"
I raised the Blade of Aethel higher, the multi-colored light flaring, mirroring the fire now igniting in the eyes of every loyalist. "Today, we remind them who we are! Today, we break their chains! Today, we bleed for our kingdom, so that our children may live free!"
"For Zuna! For Freedom! For the King!" My final words thundered across the field.
And then, the roar came. Not a murmur, not a growl, but a single, unified, earth-shaking roar from 6,000 throats, a sound of pure, unadulterated defiance that rolled across the plains and surely reached the ears of Valerius's unsuspecting forces. The fear was gone, replaced by a zealous, terrifying determination. They were ready.
"Captain Jorun's signal!" General Theronis barked, his eyes alight with newfound zeal. "Their supply line is cut!"
A faint, high-pitched whistle carried on the wind from the Serpent's Coil. Perfect. Disruption achieved.
"Now!" I commanded, leaping onto Aether's back. "Advance the main force, General! Captains Lyraen and Borin, take your positions! We draw them out!"
Aether launched himself into the sky with a powerful beat of his wings, carrying me aloft. Below, our 4,000-strong main force began its march, a disciplined, if ragtag, wave across the open field. Valerius's camp was stirring now, alarms beginning to ring, figures emerging from tents, confused. They hadn't expected this. Not here. Not now.
I saw the disciplined lines of Eldorian troops already beginning to form, their standards unfurling. Their 1,500 elite were moving with chilling efficiency, anchoring the larger force of Zunian conscripts and mercenaries. They were waking up, and their arrogance was palpable. They saw our smaller numbers, our less polished formations, and they would see an easy victory.
Good. That's exactly what I wanted them to see.
"Aether," I mentally commanded, "towards their center. Let them focus on us."
As Aether soared, I began to weave my magic. A subtle shift in the winds. Dust began to kick up from the dry earth, swirling around the advancing Eldorian lines, not enough to blind them, but enough to obscure vision, to disorient their precise formations. Then, from the nearby river, I felt the cool pulse of water. I commanded it, and subtle rivulets began to seep into a low depression in the field, turning the ground soft, treacherous, exactly where their cavalry would attempt to charge.
This wasn't just a battle of strength. This was a battle of wits. And Kael Theron, King of Zuna, was playing to win.
The distant shouts grew louder, the clash of steel, the frantic commands of Eldorian officers. The 10,000 trained forces of Valerius were now fully engaged, drawn into the open field, just as I intended. The fight had begun.