The sun rose slowly over the eastern plains, gilding the horizon with muted gold and casting long shadows over the forward outpost Alaric had established. From the central tower, he surveyed the surrounding territory. His scouts had reported small movements — isolated raiding parties, wandering bands of mercenaries, and a few curious villagers observing the growing power of the black-cloaked commander.
Alaric's plan was clear: expand influence gradually, testing his forces and consolidating control over the surrounding region. To do this, he would conduct controlled skirmishes with smaller rogue groups, integrating any survivors into his army. Every engagement was a lesson, not just in combat, but in discipline, coordination, and loyalty.
He gathered his lieutenants. "Today, we test the outer plains. Move in squads, engage, but do not overextend. Observe. Assess. Incorporate. Every victory is only valuable if it strengthens the whole force. Hesitation will cost us more than the enemy ever could."
The first engagement came within hours. A group of twenty marauders had been raiding minor villages along the eastern ridge. Alaric split his men into three teams: a frontal engagement unit to draw attention, a flanking unit to block retreat, and a reserve squad — himself included — to strike decisively at critical points.
The marauders were overconfident. When the frontal team met them head-on, they expected a chaotic brawl, but the coordinated movements of Alaric's forces quickly disrupted their formation. Alaric, moving unseen, manipulated spatial distortions to disorient the enemy, creating invisible traps and forcing them into kill zones.
One of the marauder leaders attempted a desperate counterattack, rushing toward Alaric's lieutenants. In a blur of motion, Alaric appeared behind him, sending a precision ice blade across his path. The attack didn't just incapacitate — it disrupted his qi flow, leaving him paralyzed and terrified.
The remaining marauders were quickly subdued. Alaric allowed them to kneel and swear allegiance, converting foes into assets. The battle was brief but effective — a demonstration of his growing mastery over both his forces and the battlefield itself.
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After the skirmish, Alaric gathered his men to assess the outcome. "Notice the difference between coordinated attacks and brute force," he said, his voice calm but commanding. "Every movement is deliberate. Every position calculated. Today, you learned not only to fight but to observe, anticipate, and integrate. That is how an army becomes unstoppable."
Li Shou's former men, now fully loyal, had begun to demonstrate initiative. They conducted patrols, maintained supply lines, and even proposed minor tactical adjustments during training drills. Alaric listened carefully, encouraging suggestions that enhanced efficiency while maintaining strict discipline.
The day ended with scouts reporting the first signs of resistance from villages closer to Ashenfall. Minor lords were beginning to notice the growing force and murmured among themselves. Some considered submission, while others prepared defenses. Alaric observed all of this silently, cataloging the strengths, weaknesses, and temperament of each potential adversary.
> "The city is still distant," he thought, eyes tracing the hazy outline of Ashenfall on the horizon. "But every village, every skirmish, every converted band is another link in the chain that will bind it."
Night fell, and the forward outpost became a hub of activity. Fires dotted the plains, marking the presence of a disciplined, growing army. Alaric continued his review of maps and intelligence reports, noting the location of minor roads, water sources, and the terrain features that would become critical in future operations.
By the time the moon rose high, the message was clear: Alaric Vardar's influence was spreading, the plains bending slowly to his will. He had begun the long, deliberate campaign that would, in time, make Ashenfall a target of inevitability rather than choice.
> "Patience, preparation, and precision," he whispered to himself, the winds carrying his words across the plains. "Every step we take today shapes the battlefield of tomorrow. The city will fall, and when it does, the Blood Legion will rise, unchallenged and unstoppable."