Dawn broke with a hush before the storm. The horizon glowed faint gold, mist rising from the grasslands where thousands of soldiers stirred to readiness.
From one end of the field, Hiral stepped out of his tent.
The black and crimson armor fit him like a shadow given form, the plates etched by wear, the crimson accents glinting like blood in the newborn sun.
He pulled his helm beneath one arm, so his men could see his face—stern yet human, tired yet unbroken.
He climbed a rise overlooking the Eastern ranks. Silence fell as they turned to him, their breath misting in the cold air.
"My brothers, my sisters," Hiral began, his voice carrying not with force, but with the warmth of recognition.
He raised a gauntleted hand toward them, sweeping over scarred veterans, young recruits, wounded who refused to stay behind.
"Today, the world looks upon us. Not because we sought glory, not because we desired conquest, but because we dared to fight for the future. A future where our children wake not to the clash of steel, but to fields safe and prosperous. A future where our nation stands unbroken, a beacon of strength and devotion."
The men erupted in cheers, some pounding their shields, others lifting weapons skyward. Hiral let it roll through them before finishing, his voice gentling:
"You are that strength," Hiral continued, gaze sweeping across them.
"By being here, by standing ready, you have already carved our place in history. Win or fall, the continent will know—our nation does not falter. We endure. We prevail."
The roar that answered him shook the very earth.
****
At the opposite side of the plain, Alexis stepped from his own tent.
His dark blue and gold armor gleamed beneath the dawn, regal and unbent.
He walked with the calm poise of one who carried not only command, but destiny itself.
His officers spread word quickly, and soon the Ro soldiers gathered, a sea of steel and banners swaying.
Alexis mounted a low platform, lifting his helm in salute before tucking it under his arm. His gaze swept across them, sharp and unshaken.
"Men of Ro," he declared, his voice deep, steady as stone, "today we march into a battle that will end this war."
A murmur rippled, then quieted as he lifted a hand.
"This is not only a fight for victory. It is a fight for peace. And we will win it—not only for ourselves, but for the future of Ro. As victors, we will show the world that our kingdom has changed. That we will not return to the rot of the past, but will herald an era where unity binds us, where justice reigns."
He straightened, shoulders squared, eyes hard as tempered steel.
"Stand tall, for this day we fight as one. And when the sun sets, we will stand as victors—ushering in Ro's rebirth."
The army thundered in response, shields slamming, voices bellowing in unity until the air itself seemed to quake.
Across the plains, two armies stirred with equal fervor, two generals shining like twin stars destined to collide.
And with high hopes of a better future burning in their hearts, both hosts began to march—step by step—toward the place where fate itself waited to be written.
****
The thunder of marching boots and the dull clang of armor filled the air as the Eastern army advanced across the plain.
War banners whipped in the rising wind, and the ground itself seemed to tremble beneath the sheer weight of men and horses pressing forward.
Hiral rode at the front, his crimson-etched armor dark against the pale dawn light.
His gaze was calm, his posture unyielding, but his eyes traced every ridge of the battlefield as if he could already see the shapes the blood and steel would carve into history.
Quietly, almost without turning his head, he lifted a hand.
Seran, riding among the front commanders, caught the signal instantly and urged his horse closer.
"Don't give me that look," Seran muttered, already suspicious.
Hiral allowed himself a faint smile.
"Then don't make it harder than it has to be. I need you to promise me something—and I mean this, Seran. No second thoughts. No doubt."
Seran scowled, his knuckles whitening on the reins. "I'll refuse before you even say it. Every time you start with that tone, it means you're about to throw yourself into something reckless."
A sigh escaped Hiral, not heavy but touched with the warmth of familiarity.
"Remember when we were children? How many times you called me a fool and still obeyed my word? And how, somehow, it turned out well in the end?"
Seran's jaw tightened. "Don't you dare use that against me now."
Hiral's smile deepened, a rare softness glinting in his eyes. "I'm using it because I trust you, Seran. Deeper than anyone. That's why I'm asking you to do this. Not Tirin. You."
The years of friendship pressed like a weight between them.
Finally, Seran cursed under his breath, glaring ahead instead of at Hiral.
"You sly tyrant of a friend. Fine. But this time you'd better be right. And you'd better come back alive, like before."
"I promise," Hiral said, the word steady, almost gentle.
Seran exhaled sharply. "So what is it?"
Hiral's tone dropped to something only Seran could hear, despite the roar of marching men around them.
"The moment I fall—you must signal for retreat. No matter what. Prioritize it above everything else."
Seran's head snapped toward him, eyes blazing. "What? Absolutely not! That's all the more reason we don't retreat. We fight until we—"
"Seran," Hiral cut in, firm but calm, "you know my plan. I want Ro to question whether it was a ruse, to doubt if they truly captured me. That confusion will be a leeway for me to maneuver and secure the path I have planned."
Hiral looked at Seran and added as Seran glared, "When I go down, you take my mantle. Act as if you were me. Signal the retreat. Then scatter our forces in small groups, to the remote areas. Have them help villages plant crops and secure the roads. We must repay the help and support of our people by helping them back when they need it the most."
For a moment, Seran stared at him in shock—then let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Even now, even in this moment, you put the people above yourself."
Hiral's grin flashed, wry and defiant. "Of course. I'll be fine. I'll come back—if only so you can complain about how much better things were without me meddling."
Seran snorted, shaking his head, but his grip loosened on the reins. A sigh slipped from him, ragged with both resignation and loyalty. "Fine. I'll do my best to follow your damn plan. But if you don't come back…"
Hiral's gaze remained fixed on the horizon, where Alexis's banners gleamed like a second dawn. "Then you'll complain louder. And that alone will shake the heavens."