In his room at the headquarters, Pablo sat alone in front of the map drawn on paper. The candles burned slowly, and shadows danced on the walls. He was thinking. Calculating. Planning.
The revolutionaries now outnumbered the king's soldiers. Three thousand fighters against two thousand soldiers. Better equipped too. The weapons that arrived from Reinold were enough to arm everyone. The guns were new, the swords sharp, the cannons ready.
But the soldiers were more trained. More organized. They knew how to fight in ranks. How to execute orders quickly. How not to collapse under pressure.
For this reason, Pablo would not attack.
He would defend.
He wrote on the map in small letters:
"First defensive line: Advanced artillery. Aid at the pass from which the soldiers will co. Will strike before the enemy reaches us."
"Second defensive line: Infantry trenches. Three consecutive lines. The first falls, the second fires, the third covers."
"Pits and wooden stakes on the roads to cut the horses' legs. No cavalry will approach our lines."
"Ambush zones on the flanks. Marco leads a fast group. Will strike from behind after the enemy is bogged down."
He knew this would save many lives. He knew that revolutionaries would inevitably die, but he wanted the smallest number possible. Because in the end, he wanted to choose the best among them. The strongest, the smartest, the most loyal. To make them part of his family.
After the battle, I will give my instructions to my forty n. Choose for those who are worthy.
He put his pen aside. He looked at the map again.
And there was Kuma.
Kuma, the man of the Buccaneer race. A legendary race, their bodies possessed superhuman strength beyond imagination. Bullets do not affect them. Swords break on their skin. Marco's imnse strength seed like a child playing before Kuma's power.
In battle, Kuma would be like a mountain. Cannot be moved. Cannot be stopped. He would crash into the enemy's ranks and shatter them, and he would protect the revolutionaries from direct attacks. His presence alone increased the chances of victory significantly.
Not to ntion his ability.
Pablo smiled. "With Kuma, victory is near."
---
In the early morning, Pablo heard hurried footsteps in the corridor. He opened the door. It was Jinny.
Her face was pale, but her eyes were steady.
"The army has moved. Volkan is coming. He will be here in about five or six hours."
Pablo looked at her. He showed no fear on his face. Only the calm of a leader who had been waiting for this mont.
"Tell Marco and Shigo. Tell them to prepare the n. I will spread the news myself."
He called his forty commanders in the south. One by one. His voice was calm, but his words were like fire.
"The army is coming. Five or six hours. Prepare the defensive lines. Prepare the cannons. Prepare the trenches. We will not welco them with flowers."
He hung up. He looked at Jinny.
"I will lead from here. I will watch. I will direct... Stay here. Monitor their communications. If you hear anything, tell imdiately."
"I will."
---
After five hours of waiting, the ground was trembling.
From afar, the revolutionaries saw dust rising. Then they heard drums beating. Then they saw the banners.
The king's army was coming.
Two thousand soldiers. Their horses neighed. Their weapons glead under the noon sun. The white banners bore the royal family's emblem.
At the head of the army, Volkan rode his black horse. His face was tired, but he tried to hide his fear. His eyes searched for the revolutionaries.
Then he saw them.
He stopped.
He did not expect this.
He did not expect to see this level of organization.
As far as the eye could see, cannons were lined up in rows. Hundreds of cannons. Aid at them.
The trenches stretched for long distances. And behind the trenches, thousands of ard revolutionaries.
On the roads, sharp wooden stakes waited for his horses. Around them, deep pits to break the legs of the cavalry.
Volkan paused for a mont. His eyes widened. His forehead sweated. His mouth opened slightly, then closed.
He did not expect this. He did not expect to face an organized army. He did not expect to face this many cannons.
He was expecting sothing like last ti: chaotic young n with guns. Were it not for the elent of surprise, he would not have lost. But now, things were different.
He turned to his soldiers. He saw fear in their eyes. So were trembling. So were looking at the ground. So were whispering to their comrades.
He had no choice.
Retreat ant death at the king's hands. Advance ant death at the revolutionaries' hands.
He raised his sword to the sky. He shouted in a hoarse voice:
"Attack!"
They unleashed the horses.
The cavalry charged first.
They ran toward the defensive lines.
But they did not reach them.
The cannons roared.
The ground shook beneath their feet. Cannonballs flew through the air like thunderbolts. They pierced the first ranks. Tore bodies apart. Cut off legs. Shattered skulls.
The cavalry fell like flies. Horses threw their riders and fled in panic. Blood burst everywhere. The screams of the wounded rose.
A few minutes. And nothing remained of the first rank.
Volkan looked at the scene with terrified eyes. His hand trembled on his sword. He could not speak. He could not command. He watched his army lt like snow under a scorching sun.
He did not know that this was everything.
He did not know that this was only the beginning.
The battle had begun.
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