Chapter 22

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Chapter 22: Striking When Least Expected

The Elves were one of the largest factions among the sub-human races on the continent of Arad, with some tribes even surpassing human Civilizations in advancement. These Elves dwelled in vast forests, including the Forest of Gran.

Typically, interactions between Elven Tribes and humans were limited to simple transactions, often initiated by human merchants or adventurers visiting their settlements. Though intrigued by human mechanical goods and fruits, the Elves—masters of carving, weaving, and advanced potion-making—had few genuine needs. To this mysterious race, humans mattered little, let alone their noble wars.

Yet the Elven tribe Midi highlighted was different—its location set it apart. Their forest lay on the outskirts of the Forest of Gran, bordering Asreks family territory. This placed it squarely within the Sais army’s operational radius. If war erupted, these Elves would inevitably be dragged into the conflict. Even if the Sais army bypassed them, refugees, deserters, and opportunistic bandits would ravage their once-peaceful land.

Still, suffering consequences didn’t mean the Elves would aid Midi. To these nature-loving archers, one noble was indistinguishable from another. More likely, they’d shoot any human trespasser on sight. Despite his reincarnator’s memories, Midi doubted he could sway such stubborn traditionalists.

This noble war hadn’t occurred in his previous life. Back then, Fina had been injured, and their family was framed by the Senator’s faction. Now, his choices had altered history, creating a butterfly effect. But that hardly mattered—Midi’s true target wasn’t the Elves.

It was the forest’s true master: the Mist Sorceress Alice Otolopas. In his past life, she’d been both his beloved and Fina’s closest friend.

“Elves are stubborn, and worse, hidebound,” Fina scoffed. The fiery Queen of Magic naturally clashed with a race frozen in time.

“This forest is different. The key isn’t the Elves—I give it fifty-fifty odds,” Midi said. “Shall we try?”

“Fifty’s plenty!” Fina didn’t question his reasoning. “But the Sais army’s already gathering. We’re out of time.”

“Then we’ll make time.” Midi’s smile turned icy. “We strike first to break their momentum.”

“A strike?” The red-haired girl’s eyes gleamed. Fresh from her perfect transmutation, she hungered for action. Midi’s swift decisiveness suited her perfectly.

Sigmund and Lilian mirrored her eagerness. Adventurers by nature, they embraced bold tactics—a hallmark of Fina’s future Hawk Brigade. The knights, however, exchanged uneasy glances. Was their pampered young lord seriously suggesting 3,500 troops against 10,000? Would he gamble their family’s future?

Midi ignored them, turning to Count Ingman, the Asreks family head.

“Your plan?” the Count asked.

“An elite raid to burn their granaries. The Sais operate from borrowed territory. Cut their supplies, and they’ll need three weeks to regroup—enough to summon allies.” Midi’s calm tone reflected his past life as the Hawk Brigade’s commander, dissecting enemy weaknesses with ease.

The knights relaxed. This wasn’t a suicidal confrontation—just buying time for reinforcements.

“You’ll lead it?” The Count read his son’s gaze instantly.

Midi surveyed the room: Fina’s confident grin, Sigmund and Lilian’s steady patience, the knights’ wary loyalty, old steward Lothran’s silent vigil.

“I grew here. This is my territory, these my people.” His voice stayed light, as if stating the obvious. “And these are my comrades. Of course I’ll go.”

"Bartran!" The Count called out the name in an authoritative voice.

The middle-aged knight immediately stepped forward, awaiting orders from the family head.

"Assemble one hundred elites immediately. Have them ready to march at once – not to protect my son, but to secure victory!" declared Count Ingman.

Bartran paused briefly before the hesitation in his eyes dissolved, replaced by the sharp intensity of a battle-hardened veteran who’d crawled through mountains of corpses.

"Understood, my lord!"

"For victory!" The knights roared in unison.

As the Asreks family resolved to strike, the Sais family was conducting final war preparations in York County.

Fenrir Sais, who normally led the pack of spoiled nobles at the Royal Magic Academy, now stood at the forward base. The humiliation from his failed trial had festered in him like an open wound, driving him forward through sleepless nights. Even irrational hatred, it seemed, could fuel a man’s ambitions.

This burning resentment brought Fenrir to York County where the Sais family’s Crimson Flame Legion was garrisoned.

The crescent moon hung like a silver claw amidst starry skies, casting pale light over the earth below.

York County blazed with torchlight. Originally no military stronghold, the small county town had been full of vulnerabilities. But since the Crimson Flame Legion’s arrival, watchtowers sprouted like mushrooms while curfews and coordinated patrols transformed the settlement.

Within days, the town became an iron fortress surrounded by invisible webs – any disturbance would trigger instant retaliation.

"Is this how renowned generals fortify positions?" Fenrir murmured, gazing at the beast-like city from the highest watchtower.

"Nothing extraordinary," came a dry voice. A gaunt man in crimson armor ascended the tower steps, his waxed mustache twitching. "Standard procedure, nothing more."

Porter Sais, commander of the Crimson Flame Legion, had risen from family obscurity through brilliant swordsmanship and tactical genius. His decade of service during the noble wars earned him the nickname "General Red Fox" and command of the family’s second-largest army.

"Uncle Porter, what’s our next move?" Though arrogant, Fenrir knew to show deference to this respected strategist.

"Full invasion," the general stated without hesitation. "Ten thousand troops marching into Asreks territory."

"But our base defenses here…"

"Precisely why we fortified it – few defenders need strong walls." General Red Fox’s eyes glinted. "The Asreks can’t possibly withstand us. We’ll isolate their castle like an island in stormy seas. They’ll surrender before we draw swords."

He smoothed his mustache. "Intelligence reports Fina Hamilton’s presence in their lands. She’ll make valuable leverage."

"Capturing the Duchy’s beauty?" Fenrir’s voice quickened as forbidden fantasies surfaced.

The general pretended not to notice his nephew’s lecherous grin. Both men’s smug calculations shattered when thunderous explosions rocked York County.

A fiery pillar erupted from the Crimson Flame Legion’s camp, tearing through the night.

"ENEMY ATTACK!" A sentinel’s shriek pierced the air as flames painted the sky crimson.