Velmora did not sleep.
Even in the dead of night, footsteps echoed through its ruined streets. Torches moved along broken walls. Patrols crossed alleyways like hunting wolves searching for movement in the dark.
Fear ruled the city.
And fear never rested.
Kaelan Var stood atop the remains of a collapsed tower overlooking the western plaza.
Below him—
The prisoners remained bound beneath the wooden posts.
Imperial soldiers.
Civilians.
Old men.
Women.
Children.
Guards surrounded them from every direction.
Too many for a direct attack.
Dren crouched beside him.
"So," he whispered, "tell me the part where this becomes a good idea."
Kaelan's eyes scanned the plaza carefully.
"The executions begin at dawn."
"Yeah, I heard that part."
"If we wait longer, we lose them."
Dren sighed heavily.
"And if we attack now?"
Kaelan looked at the guards.
"We might lose everyone."
The wind shifted.
Smoke drifted across the rooftops.
For a brief moment, visibility around the plaza weakened.
Kaelan noticed it instantly.
The patrol routes slowed whenever the smoke thickened.
Not by much.
But enough.
A thought formed.
Fast.
Precise.
Dangerous.
Kaelan turned toward one of his scouts.
"How much oil do we still have?"
The scout blinked.
"…Not much."
"How much?"
"Five barrels."
Dren stared at him.
"Oh no."
Kaelan ignored him.
"The western market district," he said quietly. "Most of the buildings there are already damaged."
Understanding hit Dren immediately.
"You want to start a fire."
Kaelan nodded once.
"A controlled one."
Dren looked toward the city.
Then back at Kaelan.
"You do realize the word 'controlled' disappears the moment fire gets involved?"
Kaelan's gaze remained calm.
"We don't need the fire to destroy the district."
He looked back toward the plaza.
"Only to divide the guards."
Silence followed.
Then slowly—
Dren grinned.
"…That might actually work."
Within the hour—
Kaelan's men moved silently through the ruined western streets.
Oil spread carefully across abandoned market stalls and broken homes.
No wasted movement.
No unnecessary sound.
Above them, the city remained unaware.
For now.
Kaelan stood near the center of the ruined market.
Torch in hand.
The flames reflected faintly in his eyes.
Dren folded his arms nearby.
"You know," he muttered, "most commanders use speeches to inspire people."
Kaelan glanced at him.
"I'm using fire."
"…Fair enough."
Kaelan lowered the torch.
The oil caught instantly.
Fire exploded across the market district.
Flames climbed shattered buildings within seconds. Smoke rose violently into the night sky. Heat rolled through the streets like a living thing.
And then—
The bells began ringing.
"FIRE!"
"WESTERN DISTRICT!"
"MOVE!"
The city erupted into chaos.
Exactly as Kaelan intended.
Guards rushed toward the burning streets.
Patrol routes collapsed immediately.
Orders overlapped.
Shouts echoed through the city.
The western plaza weakened.
Kaelan drew his sword.
"Move."
His men surged through the smoke.
Fast.
Silent.
Deadly.
The first guard died before he could shout.
The second barely turned before Dren slammed into him.
Steel flashed.
Bodies fell.
"Cut the prisoners loose!" Kaelan ordered.
The captives stared in disbelief as imperial soldiers emerged from the smoke around them.
One woman began crying immediately.
An older prisoner whispered,
"…I thought no one was coming."
Kaelan cut through the ropes binding an injured soldier.
"You can stand?"
The man nodded weakly.
"Then help the others."
Around the plaza, the battle intensified.
Not large-scale war.
Close fighting.
Fast fighting.
Every second mattered.
A rebel soldier spotted them through the smoke.
"INTRUDERS!"
Too loud.
Too soon.
The alarm spread instantly.
Dren cursed.
"There goes the quiet part."
More enemy soldiers poured into the plaza.
Dozens now.
Too many.
Kaelan looked at the freed prisoners.
Most could barely move.
Children.
Wounded civilians.
Exhausted soldiers.
Retreat would be slow.
Dangerously slow.
Then—
A horn sounded somewhere beyond the streets.
Deep.
Controlled.
The enemy movement changed instantly.
Not chaotic anymore.
Organized.
Focused.
Kaelan felt it immediately.
Corven.
The commander had taken control again.
Enemy soldiers stopped rushing blindly into the plaza.
Instead, they spread outward carefully.
Cutting off exits.
Containing movement.
Dren's expression darkened.
"He's trapping us."
Kaelan nodded.
"Yes."
Across the burning streets—
A figure appeared through the smoke.
Dark armor.
Calm posture.
Walking, not running.
Corven.
Flames reflected across his cloak as he stepped into view.
His eyes moved across the battlefield once.
Only once.
And already—
He understood everything.
"You started the fire," Corven said calmly.
Not angry.
Not surprised.
Kaelan stepped forward slightly.
"Yes."
Around them, steel still clashed.
Men screamed.
Buildings burned.
But for a moment—
The battlefield narrowed again.
Commander against commander.
Corven looked toward the escaping prisoners.
"A distraction to free civilians."
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"You value people too much."
Kaelan answered immediately.
"And you don't value them at all."
Corven tilted his head slightly.
"No."
His voice remained perfectly calm.
"I value order."
Then he raised one hand.
Archers appeared across the rooftops.
Kaelan's eyes sharpened instantly.
Trap.
Another trap.
"MOVE!" he shouted.
Arrows rained down.
The plaza exploded into panic.
Several prisoners collapsed immediately.
Others screamed and scattered.
Kaelan grabbed a nearby child and pulled him behind cover as arrows shattered wood around them.
Dren roared,
"Get them out!"
Imperial soldiers formed a rough shield wall around the escaping civilians.
Step by step.
Fighting backward through fire and smoke.
Corven watched it all silently.
Not chasing.
Not rushing.
Calculating.
Always calculating.
Kaelan realized something then.
Corven wasn't trying to kill him tonight.
He was measuring him.
Testing him.
The same way Kaelan was studying him.
The thought unsettled him more than the arrows.
A burning beam collapsed nearby, showering sparks into the street.
Smoke thickened rapidly.
Visibility vanished.
Kaelan saw the opportunity immediately.
"Fall back!" he ordered.
"Into the smoke!"
The survivors retreated through the burning district as chaos swallowed the city behind them.
Only after they reached the outer ruins beyond the walls did the group finally stop.
Breathing hard.
Covered in ash.
Alive.
Dren leaned against broken stone, laughing breathlessly.
"We actually pulled it off."
Kaelan looked back toward Velmora.
The city still burned.
But now—
Something else burned with it.
Not fear.
Resistance.
Behind him, freed civilians gathered silently around the surviving soldiers.
Watching them.
Not with hopelessness anymore.
With belief.
And far away inside the city—
Corven stood atop the western wall overlooking the flames.
One of his officers approached carefully.
"Should we pursue them?"
Corven's eyes remained fixed on the darkness beyond the city.
"No."
The officer hesitated.
"They freed nearly half the prisoners."
Corven's expression remained unreadable.
"Yes."
Then slowly—
A faint smile appeared across his face.
"Good."
The officer blinked in confusion.
"…Good?"
Corven turned away from the fire.
"A commander without conviction is boring."
…
The fire in Velmora has begun to spread.And now, both commanders know exactly who they are fighting. ⚔️