The gates of Velmora opened before dawn.
Slowly.
Like the jaws of some enormous beast finally preparing to feed.
Kaelan Var stood atop the rain-soaked ridge overlooking the plains beneath the city walls.
Below him—
Torches poured from the gates in endless lines.
Not raiders.
Not scattered rebels.
An army.
The soldiers marched in disciplined formations across the muddy ground. Spears aligned. Shields locked. Black banners moved above them like storm clouds drifting through the darkness.
Thousands.
Far more than Kaelan expected.
Dren lowered the spyglass slowly.
"…That's not a rebellion anymore."
No.
It wasn't.
Kaelan watched carefully as the enemy formations spread outward from the city.
Controlled.
Measured.
Not rushing toward battle.
Taking ground deliberately.
Then he saw it.
At the center of the army—
A single black banner.
No symbol.
No crest.
Only darkness.
Corven rode beneath it.
Even from this distance, his presence carried across the battlefield like cold iron.
Calm.
Unshaken.
Certain.
Dren muttered quietly,
"He's coming personally this time."
Kaelan nodded once.
"Yes."
Behind them, Kaelan's soldiers gathered silently along the ridge.
Nervous.
Tired.
Outnumbered.
Some stared openly at the size of the enemy force below.
Others avoided looking entirely.
Because now—
The reality of the war stood directly in front of them.
One hundred and twelve soldiers.
Against thousands.
Kaelan turned toward them slowly.
The wind pulled at his cloak as thunder rolled above the valley.
No speeches came to him.
No grand words.
Only truth.
"If anyone wishes to leave…"
The soldiers looked at him immediately.
"…leave now."
Silence.
Rain fell harder.
Kaelan's voice remained calm.
"I won't stop you."
"This battle is not fair."
"We are outnumbered."
"We may not survive the day."
Several soldiers lowered their eyes.
Others clenched their weapons tighter.
Dren looked at Kaelan carefully but said nothing.
Kaelan stepped aside.
Leaving the path behind the ridge open.
No one moved.
One long moment passed.
Then another.
Finally—
An older soldier stepped forward.
The wounded veteran from Velmora's old garrison.
"We already lost our city once," he said quietly.
Rain dripped from his gray hair.
"I'm not running again."
Another soldier stepped beside him.
Then another.
Then more.
No shouting.
No dramatic declarations.
Just men choosing to stay.
Dren smirked faintly.
"…Looks like you're stuck with us."
Kaelan looked at them silently.
At the exhausted faces.
The worn armor.
The fear they carried anyway.
Then he nodded once.
"Good."
Below the ridge—
The black banner army stopped advancing.
A horn echoed across the plains.
Deep.
Heavy.
The enemy formations shifted immediately.
Spearmen moved forward.
Archers spread behind them.
Cavalry repositioned along the flanks.
Dren's expression darkened.
"He's setting the field."
Kaelan's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Yes."
Corven wasn't attacking recklessly.
He was forcing Kaelan into open battle.
Because once trapped on the plains—
There would be nowhere left to run.
Kaelan turned toward the hills behind them.
Steep terrain.
Forests.
Narrow ground.
Not ideal for large armies.
Which meant—
That was where they would fight.
"Signal the retreat," Kaelan ordered.
Several soldiers blinked immediately.
Dren frowned.
"…Already?"
"We're not fighting here."
The horns sounded moments later.
Kaelan's force began falling back toward the northern ridges.
Disciplined.
Controlled.
Below them—
The black banner army advanced immediately.
Dren glanced backward while moving.
"He's chasing."
Kaelan shook his head slightly.
"No."
His eyes stayed fixed on the enemy formations.
"He's herding us."
The realization settled heavily between them.
Corven wanted this movement.
Wanted Kaelan retreating into the hills.
Which meant—
There was another layer to the battlefield Kaelan had not seen yet.
By midday—
The rain became a storm.
Mud swallowed boots.
Visibility worsened.
Thunder shook the mountains.
Kaelan's force reached the narrow ridgeline north of Velmora just before the enemy closed the distance.
The terrain tightened sharply here.
Rock walls to the east.
Dense forest westward.
Only one central path wide enough for large formations.
Perfect ground to reduce numbers.
But Kaelan still felt uneasy.
Too easy.
Dren stepped beside him.
"This is good terrain."
Kaelan remained silent.
Then—
He saw movement.
Far across the western forest line.
Brief.
Almost invisible beneath the rain.
Cavalry.
His eyes sharpened instantly.
No.
Not cavalry.
Hidden cavalry.
Corven had already positioned forces around the ridges before marching out of Velmora.
The battlefield had been prepared in advance.
"Dren."
Something in Kaelan's voice changed immediately.
Sharp.
Urgent.
"We move east. Now."
Dren frowned.
"What?"
"The western forest is compromised."
Before another word could be spoken—
A horn exploded from the trees.
Then another.
And another.
Black banner cavalry burst from the forest like shadows tearing through rain.
Hundreds of riders crashing downhill directly toward Kaelan's flank.
"AMBUSH!" someone screamed.
Panic spread instantly.
Arrows rained through the storm.
Several imperial soldiers collapsed before they could even form shields.
Horses smashed into the outer line moments later.
The battlefield exploded into chaos.
Kaelan drew his sword immediately.
"FORM UP!"
Too late.
The hidden cavalry tore through the left flank completely.
Men scattered across mud and stone.
Some trampled.
Others cut down before they could rise.
Dren slammed into a rider hard enough to drag him from the saddle.
"MOVE TO THE EASTERN RIDGE!"
Kaelan blocked a cavalry spear and pulled the rider off balance before driving his blade upward.
Blood mixed instantly with rain.
Another horn sounded.
This one from below.
The main black banner army was advancing uphill now.
Perfect timing.
Perfect coordination.
Corven had trapped them between two forces.
Kaelan realized the truth immediately.
This entire retreat…
Had been predicted.
Thunder cracked across the mountains.
Through rain and smoke—
Kaelan saw Corven standing far below beneath the black banner.
Watching.
Not participating.
Not rushing.
Controlling.
The battlefield itself felt like it belonged to him.
For the first time since the frontier war—
Kaelan felt something dangerous crawl into his chest.
Not fear of death.
Fear of defeat.
"KAELAN!"
Dren's roar snapped him back.
A cavalry rider charged directly toward him through the storm.
Too fast.
Too close.
Kaelan turned sharply—
Barely blocking the strike.
The impact threw him sideways into the mud.
Pain exploded through his shoulder.
Before the rider could finish him—
An arrow pierced the attacker's throat.
The body crashed from the saddle instantly.
Kaelan looked up.
One of his younger soldiers lowered the bow with shaking hands.
Terrified.
But standing.
"Commander!" the soldier shouted.
"We're breaking!"
Kaelan turned.
And saw it.
The line collapsing.
The black banner army kept advancing relentlessly through the storm.
Disciplined.
Unstoppable.
Their force was being crushed.
And Corven knew it.
Far below—
The enemy commander slowly raised one hand.
The black banners surged forward.
The killing had truly begun.
…
For the first time since arriving at Velmora—Kaelan Var is losing. ⚔️