Mist Valley Defensive Line. One Day Before the Attack – Night.
The Mist Valley was a narrow gorge, barely two kiloters long, flanked by steep jagged cliffs rising fifty ters high. It was a natural Chokepoint. Anyone wishing to invade Northreach had to pass through this narrow path or take a detour through the deadly snowy mountains.
At the northern end of the valley, House Sudrath’s small army had set up a makeshift camp. No large bonfires were lit to keep their position hidden from the enemy.
The night air felt frozen.
Command Tent.
Inside the tent, Duke Lucian was sharpening his greatsword. The rhythmic sound of the whetstone—shhk, shhk, shhk—was simultaneously soothing and terrifying.
Sir Riven sat in the corner, oiling his battleaxe to prevent rust from the morning dew.
"Dad," Riven called softly. He didn’t look at his father. "If I don’t co back tomorrow... please make sure Raphael and Raveena escape through the secret route."
Lucian stopped sharpening. He looked at his eldest son.
"Don’t talk nonsense, Riven. You are the field commander. If you die, who will lead those madn?"
"I’m being realistic, Dad," Riven smiled bitterly. "Enemy: 3,500. Us: 90. Even if Rianor’s strategy is genius, I still have to hold the front wave alone. I just want to make sure... Mom is safe."
Lucian set down his sword. He stood up, then gripped Riven’s broad shoulder. His squeeze was firm.
"We are all going ho, Son. We are all going ho to Lembang one day. But tomorrow... tomorrow we make sure they are the ones who don’t go ho."
Logistics Warehouse (Small Cave in the Cliff).
"Careful! Don’t shake it!" Sir Rianor hissed.
Lady Rumina was pouring black powder into small clay pots. Her hands were trembling.
"Kak, if this explodes now, we turn into fireworks, right?"
"Yes. That’s why don’t sneeze," Rianor replied tensely. Cold sweat dripped down his temple.
They were assembling dieval IEDs (Improvised Explosive Devices). Clay pots filled with coarse gunpowder and scrap iron nails. Simple, but deadly for breaking cavalry formations.
"I’m scared, Kak," Rumina whispered suddenly. Her eyes welled up with tears. "I miss my painting studio. I miss ordering Seblak. I don’t want to die here as an accidental terrorist."
Rianor sighed. He put down his wooden scoop. He hugged his sister, who was covered in charcoal dust.
"I know, Rum. I’m scared to death too. My hands haven’t stopped shaking," Rianor admitted honestly. "But look on the bright side. If this works... you’ll be the first woman in this world to create ’Manaless Explosion Magic.’ You’ll be a legend."
Rumina chuckled amidst her sobs. "The Legend of the Bomber Lady? What a cool destiny."
"Alright, focus again. The fuse must be cut to exactly 10 seconds. Don’t make it too long, or the enemy will kick it away."
dical Tent.
Duchess Aurelia was folding linen bandages that had been boiled in hot water (basic sterilization she rembered).
Beside her, Raveena (Rafidha) and Raphael (Rafardhan) helped roll the bandages.
"Mom..." Raphael asked innocently. "Why do the bad n want to kill us?"
Aurelia paused. She stroked her son’s hair.
"Because they are scared, Sweetheart. Bad n are actually cowards. They are afraid we are better than them. That’s why they want to destroy us before we beco big."
"Rapha wants to join the war!" the 10-year-old exclaid, clutching his wooden toy sword. "Rapha wants to be like Brother Riven!"
"Raphael and Raveena’s duty is more important," Aurelia said firmly but gently. "You must guard the dical Tent. If your brothers’ soldiers are hurt, you give them water. You comfort them. That is the duty of True Nobles. Strengthening the hearts of their people."
Cliff Outpost.
Sir Roland and Lady Rhea sat on the edge of the cliff, their legs dangling over the dark abyss. The night wind battered their faces.
Roland held a bow, but his hands were stiff.
"Rhea... I can’t shoot. I miss a stationary target by 5 ters. What use am I tomorrow?"
Rhea, who was checking the ropes of the rock traps, turned to him.
"You don’t need to shoot people, Lan. You are the ’Voice.’"
"aning?"
"Rianor needs soone to signal. When to blow up bomb A, when to drop rock B. Your voice is loud. You are the Spotter. You are our eyes from the cliff."
Rhea pointed down to the dark narrow path below.
"Tomorrow, down there will be hell. I will be down there with Riven. I need you up here, Lan. I need you to scream if an enemy is attacking my back."
Roland nodded slowly. He felt a little more useful.
"Okay. I’ll be the loudest alarm in the world."
Dawn Breaks.
Thick fog began to descend, blanketing the valley. Visibility was only 5 ters. Perfect conditions for an ambush.
DUM... DUM... DUM...
The sound of war drums echoed from the distance.
The ground vibration could be felt in their feet.
3,500 pairs of feet and hundreds of horse hooves were marching toward death.
At the front line of defense—a barricade of wood and carts arranged across the narrow road—Sir Riven stood tall.
Behind him, the 30 village youths of "The Red Lions" held their spears with sweaty palms.
Beside him, the 50 "Iron rcs" led by Garrick grinned savagely.
Duke Lucian appeared on his warhorse, wearing an iron helm adorned with a wolf crest.
He didn’t give a long speech. He simply raised his sword into the air.
"Rember one thing!" Lucian’s voice thundered. "Behind you are your mothers and siblings! Behind you are your hos!"
"DO NOT RETREAT A SINGLE STEP!"
"HOO-AHH!" the troops shouted in unison.
From behind the white fog ahead, dark silhouettes began to erge.
The Iron Boar flags fluttered.
The front line of House Valerius appeared. Hundreds of heavy infantry with large shields.
Rianor, hiding in the bushes on the upper cliff, held a small red flag. He looked at Roland across the ravine.
Roland nodded.
Rianor looked at Rumina, who was holding a torch near the main fuse.
"Wait..." Rianor whispered. "Let them co deeper..."
The enemy got closer. 100 ters. 50 ters.
The enemy captain shouted, "Destroy that junk barricade! Flatten them!"
They sprinted, charging forward. They entered right into the Kill Zone.
Rianor dropped his flag.
"NOW!" Roland scread from the opposite cliff.
Rumina lit the fuse.
Hissssss...
The fire traveled fast toward the pile of buried clay pots in the middle of the road.
Welco to Mist Valley.
Welco to the hell made by the children of Bandung.
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