The elven coordinator cleared her throat, drawing attention back to herself. A subtle reminder that, despite recent developments, she still held nominal authority over the gathering. “Now that we have resolved certain matters, we must finalize our strategy.”
Her gaze swept across the leaders, lingering briefly on Zeke before moving on. “Lord Ezekiel has proposed a new framework. Individual operations tailored to the specific strengths of each force. I found his arguments convincing, but this is not my decision alone.” She scanned the room. “I will ask directly. Is anyone opposed to this approach?”
No one spoke up.
She nodded. “Good. However, a framework is not a plan. We require specifics. Lord Ezekiel?”
Zeke inclined his head and began outlining the plan he had refined over the past few days.
“As I see it, there are three general roles for us to fulfill. First, the siege of the four main strongholds. Second, sustained pressure along their extended defensive line through skirmish operations. And third, infiltration and disruption of their backlines.”
The leaders listened without revealing their thoughts.
“Let me be clear,” he continued. “There are no easier or harder roles. There are only suitable and unsuitable ones. You all know yourself best. So, do not choose a task that does not fit your capabilities if you lack the confidence to see it through.”
This part was crucial, and Zeke could tell they were weighing his words. But whether they would truly heed them remained to be seen.
“Now let me explain the first role in detail. The siege of the four primary strongholds: Strattlehold in the east, Thornwatch in the west, Highgrove in the north, and Sunroot in the south. This is where the fiercest fighting will take place. Those who assume responsibility for these sieges must hold at all costs. Your task is to maintain pressure for as long as necessary. There is no retreat and no surrender. If you fail, the entire operation collapses, and the rest of us may pay for it with our lives.”
Zeke let his gaze travel across the room. “Any takers?”
Only silence answered him. Even after several long moments, no one stepped forward.
Well, he had expected as much.
He leaned back, his fingers tapping a slow rhythm against the armrest. This was the decisive moment, when interests would collide. If mishandled, cooperation could fracture into rivalry, their fragile alliance strained by self-preservation.
Zeke had long since figured out who was best suited for each role, and it was important that they ended up the exact way he had envisioned. Even so, he could not tell them directly. All he could do was nudge them a little. His hands were truly tied here. If he assigned the positions himself, any failure would later be laid at his feet. That was not a risk he could afford. They had to choose of their own accord.
All he could do was hope the right people stepped forward, especially for the sieges.
“These fortresses...” Marek Volst said slowly, breaking the silence. “What do we know about them?”
“Quite a lot,” the elven coordinator replied. “Our intelligence indicates that each stronghold houses at least two thousand Legion soldiers, along with extensive supply reserves and reinforced defenses. All four are surrounded by mountainous terrain, difficult to assault and easy to defend.”
Her words cast the hall into silence once more. It was not an attractive assignment. For a moment, it seemed the entire campaign might stall before it even began.
Then a deep, gravelly voice cut through the stillness.
“I will take the west.”
The man who had spoken was Kernt Ossyrian. His Bone Mages excelled in endurance warfare, and his forces possessed a complete army structure. If Zeke had been forced to choose only one for this task, Kernt would have been at the top of his list. Fortunately, the man had stepped forward on his own.
That much had been expected, but what he did not expect was what Kernt did next. His gaze swept the circle before settling pointedly in one direction. “I will speak plainly. Only a few among us can even sustain such an operation. You know who you are. What are you waiting for? Step forward.”
Everyone followed his gaze.
Krazal Bloodletter sighed in defeat. He was exactly the person Kent had been glaring at. “Fine, fine. House Bloodletter will take Strattlehold in the east.”
Before the silence could return, another voice followed. It was the Archdruid, Odyr. “I will handle the south, then.”
Zeke could not suppress a smile. Kernt, Krazal, and Odyr were the three most suitable candidates for the sieges. Fortunately, they possessed both the self-awareness to recognize that and the resolve to step forward.
As for the fourth member, no one else was equally qualified. But Zeke had anticipated some hesitation here. Now that they had reached this stage, it was time to reveal the incentive he had prepared to draw out a final volunteer.
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“There is something I would like to propose,” he said. “I suggest we grant each of the four volunteers one thousand troops from Princess Miriel’s forces.”
An objection came immediately. It was Silas Dorn.
“Impossible! That is nearly half of her forces. Why should they receive preferential treatment? Did you not say there were no easier or harder roles?”
Zeke shook his head. “I do not propose this because their role is harder, but because that is where these forces will have the greatest impact.”
“How so?”
“Most of her highness's troops are Life or Nature Mages with limited combat capability. However, they excel at two things: healing and food production. A siege, by definition, is a battlefield built on attrition. Healers can sustain the troops. Nature Mages can secure food production and maintain supply.”
He fixed his gaze on Silas. “Tell me, Lord Dorn. Do you believe infiltrators or skirmishers will have the time to farm?”
“...Maybe not,” he admitted. “But this is a matter of principle. Of fairness.”
Zeke tilted his head. “If you truly believe these benefits outweigh the risk, why not volunteer for the final slot, then?”
Silas glared at him, but refrained from speaking. His mixed mercenary core was one of the few capable of filling that position effectively, yet he still hesitated. That alone proved the promise of a thousand additional troops was anything but unjust.
“If anything,” Zeke continued, “there should be more incentives. Our lives depend on these sieges going well.” He looked at the three parties who had already agreed, addressing them one by one. “Therefore, I will add additional support out of my own pocket.”
They met his gaze with surprise and a hint of curiosity.
“First, I will supply each of you with five tons of grain and other preserved foodstuffs,” he promised, to the delight of everyone. In war, one could never have too much food. “Second, I offer a dozen living siege engines to each of you.”
The elven coordinator spoke up. “What are these? We have no reports suggesting you possess anything like that, Lord Ezekiel.”
Zeke nodded, admitting it without hesitation. “This is not something that comes from me directly. These specimens were provided by Cassius Leafless.”
At this, the room stirred with renewed excitement. Cassius was a name known to all. His reputation was no less formidable than Maximilian’s had once been.
“Can you tell us more about these creatures?” the coordinator asked.
“They are plant-based lifeforms,” Zeke explained. “With nothing more than soil and water, they grow from tiny seedlings into massive trees the size of a house. I have personally witnessed them drive back an entire legion formation on their own. If not completely destroyed, they slowly regenerate over time.”
At his explanation, the eyes of the three confirmed volunteers gleamed. They clearly understood how advantageous such a tool could be.
“We gratefully accept your assistance,” Krazal said on behalf of them all.
Zeke inclined his head, though the offer had not really been made for their sake. For his plan to succeed, there had to be a fourth. Hopefully, this would be enough to draw someone forward.
It most likely would be.
Already, a few of the remaining candidates appeared tempted. With the promise of a substantial contingent of healers, ample supplies, and Cassius’s treants, the siege had become far more appealing than before.
At that moment, the two Korrovan Slavemasters, Adhira Rakshak and Vajran Kothari, exchanged a look. A silent understanding passed between them before Adhira spoke.
“I will be the fourth,” he said, his eyes turning toward Vajran. “With additional forces from my colleague, I can assemble a sufficient host.”
Interesting. The bond between those two was clearly stronger than Zeke had first assumed. If they were comfortable redistributing forces between themselves at a moment’s notice, they were likely far more than casual acquaintances.
“Good. With that, we have our four main attackers,” Zeke said, nodding to each of them. “I will provide the promised goods before you depart the city tonight.”
He then turned to the hall at large. “That brings us to the second group, the skirmishers. Your task will be to probe the enemy’s defensive network. While the four great fortresses form the primary lines between the inner and outer regions, there are dozens of smaller passages. By applying pressure to these routes, we ensure the Empire cannot consolidate its defenses on the main battlefields alone. You will force them to spread their forces thin.
“As for your exact assignment: you are not to engage in prolonged battles. Break through weak fortifications, but retreat immediately if you encounter strong resistance. This role requires both a flexible combat style and sound judgment.” He glanced around the hall. “Any takers?”
As expected, volunteers stepped forward at once. He had expected as much. Not only did the role sound far less dangerous than the sieges, but more importantly, anyone who remained silent now would automatically be assigned as an infiltrator, a position that could not be fulfilled by willingness alone.
“I will do it.”
“Me too.”
“I volunteer.”
“This is a good fit for me.”
The speakers were, in order, Ryn Greymarch, Silas Dorn, Vajran Kothari, and Marek Volst.
Zeke nodded to himself. This was precisely what he had anticipated. He accepted their appointments without objection.
“This brings us to the last group, the infiltrators. It will be their task to slip past the enemy and strike directly at the inner regions. They will be completely cut off from supplies and reinforcements. If they are caught, our only options will be to escape... or fight to the death.”
His gaze moved across the remaining members. Whether they wished it or not, they would form this final group.
It consisted of Stella Eventide and her Space Mages, Loyd Cairnwyc with his fleshshapers, Karas Skarn the summoner, and Zeke himself.
Though it might appear they had received this role simply because they were the only ones left over, nothing could be further from the truth. Of everyone present, they were the only ones capable of carrying out such a mission in the first place.
And that was precisely why Zeke had created this role. To trap them. To confine them to the inner regions, far from their allies. He would not trust them with anything else. Especially Stella and Karas.
Despite his careful observation, he could not fully discern their intentions, and their obscure backgrounds made him wary. Fortunately, as infiltrators, their ability to disrupt the broader operation would be limited.
And if they were truly loyal to the cause, they could excel in such a position. It was merely a precaution, one that would not hinder their ability to contribute, only their ability to harm their allies.
After waiting a moment and hearing no objections from the final group, the elven coordinator spoke once more. “It appears we have an agreement.” Nods followed from all sides. “The operation will begin in four weeks. That should grant each of you sufficient time to prepare and take your positions.”
She turned slowly, meeting the gaze of every person in the hall before continuing.
“In the name of the Great Tree, I wish you the best of luck.”