The old general was the first to speak. "Your Holiness," he addressed the Pope respectfully before turning to Mikael, "and esteemed envoys of the goddess, we deeply appreciate your arrival in our time of need. I will not waste words—the war is at a breaking point. The Valden Kingdom holds a decisive advantage over us in both numbers and logistics. Their generals are shrewd, their armies disciplined, and their supply lines well-maintained. If this continues, we will be crushed within months, if not weeks."
A tactician stepped forward, gesturing toward the war map. "The enemy has secured key supply routes and strongholds along our borders. Our forces are stretched thin, barely holding the frontlines. We have strategic locations that could turn the tide, but taking them back would require resources we no longer have."
He pointed to several marked locations. "The three key fortresses that we cannot afford to lose are Ironhold Keep, Stormwatch Bastion, and Blackthorn Fortress. Each of these strongholds is vital, and losing even one would be disastrous for the kingdom."
"Currently, we have 5,000 able-bodied men defending Ironhold Keep. They are up against 20,000 enemy soldiers, but due to the fortress's strong defenses, they have managed to hold their ground."
"The situation at Stormwatch Bastion is the most stable of the three. Thanks to its maritime advantages, the 4,000 troops stationed there have been able to repel the 20,000 attackers."
"And finally, Blackthorn Fortress—the most critical of the three. We have 6,000 men defending it against 17,000 attackers, but the terrain offers little advantage to our forces, making it increasingly difficult to hold."
The tactician continued, outlining additional key locations, the condition of supply lines, troop morale, and logistical constraints. The discussion grew increasingly detailed, with maps, troop distributions, and strategies being laid out.
Mikael, however, quickly realized something. War was not just about numbers or strategies—it was a complex web of logistics, terrain, morale, and timing. But as the tactician continued delving into increasingly intricate details, Mikael understood that, for him, this information was largely irrelevant.
They weren't here to fight a drawn-out war. They were here to end it.
Seeing that the tactician was unlikely to stop anytime soon, Mikael interrupted. "While this information is useful, it isn't what we are looking for." His voice carried an undeniable authority, immediately drawing the attention of everyone in the room.
The sudden silence was palpable, as multiple high-ranking individuals turned their gazes toward him. Unfazed, Mikael continued. "The goddess has entrusted us with a mission," he said, leaning slightly forward. "And that mission is not to engage in a prolonged war, nor to exhaust your kingdom with endless battles. Our purpose is to bring a swift and decisive end to this conflict, minimizing casualties on both sides."
The Pope observed him carefully, his wise eyes unreadable, but the general frowned. "A decisive end? I do not doubt your strength, divine envoy, but even the power of the divine—vast as it is—cannot end a war overnight."
"Perhaps not by mortal standards," Mikael replied, his tone unwavering, "but we are not bound by those same limitations."
His words sent a ripple through the room. Some nobles shifted uncomfortably, while the tacticians exchanged uncertain glances. A few, particularly those with vested interests in prolonging the war, seemed distinctly displeased by this sudden shift in direction.
The Pope, however, seemed more contemplative than resistant. "If I may ask," he said carefully, "what do you propose?"
Before Mikael could respond, Amelia, who had been silently listening, decided to speak. Her emerald-green eyes swept across the room, settling on the tactician who had been explaining the war situation. "Which locations would deal the greatest blow to the Valden Kingdom if they were to fall into our hands?"
The tactician hesitated, his gaze darting toward the Pope as if seeking permission.
Mikael noticed his uncertainty and reassured him. "Don't concern yourself with whether it's possible or how many soldiers we would need. Just tell me which locations would hurt them the most." His voice was calm yet commanding.
The tactician, after a brief pause, slowly nodded and turned back to the map. "If we are speaking purely in terms of strategic importance..." He traced his fingers over a few key locations before settling on one. "The most devastating blow to the Valden Kingdom would be the capture of their central supply hub, the city of Redgate. It is their main logistical center—most of their reinforcements, rations, and weapons pass through it. If it were to fall, their forces would be severely crippled, unable to sustain prolonged engagements."
Another tactician interjected. "The second most critical target would be the war camp near Blackthorn Fortress. It serves as the command center for their western front, housing several of their top generals and coordinating attacks on multiple key locations. If we eliminate it, the chain of command will be thrown into chaos."
A noble, who had been silent until now, leaned forward, fingers tapping against the table. "These locations are indeed vital, but attacking them directly poses immense risks. Even with divine strength, they are heavily fortified. A reckless assault could still result in high casualties. Sending scouts to obtain precise intelligence before striking would be the most prudent approach."
Mikael met the noble's gaze with calm confidence. "You're overestimating the need for conventional tactics." He gestured toward the girls around him. "We aren't bound by the limitations of an army. We can bypass defenses, strike precisely where it matters, and dismantle their operations before they even realize what's happening."
The noble exhaled softly, reclining in his chair. "That may be true, but wars are not won on overwhelming strength alone. Strategy and timing dictate victory. If we push too fast, we may lose control of the situation."
King Alden IV, who had been listening in silence, finally spoke, his sharp gaze settling on Mikael. "You speak with certainty," he mused. "If you truly possess the power to accomplish this, then your assistance would be invaluable. But I must ask—how do you intend to strike?"
Mikael smiled faintly. "Swiftly and decisively," he answered. "A few key strikes will collapse their war effort. No prolonged battles, no sieges—just absolute, overwhelming force where it matters most."
The room fell into thoughtful silence. Some looked intrigued, others hesitant. A few nobles exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable. The idea of a swift and decisive victory should have been met with unanimous approval, yet something in their eyes hinted at concerns beyond simple strategy.
Following Mikael's declaration, the discussion shifted toward execution. Amelia took the lead, stepping forward with a composed expression as she began to outline a well-thought-out plan.
"The Goddess has tasked us with ensuring the Rithen Kingdom's victory in this war," she stated calmly. "But she has also commanded us to minimize human casualties. In her boundless benevolence, she does not wish to see mortals suffer."
As she spoke, Amelia inwardly grimaced at her own words. She wasn't particularly fond of speaking in such religious terms, but she understood the necessity of it. This was a medieval world, and in times like these, faith was a powerful force—one that shaped politics, loyalty, and war itself.
King Alden IV studied her intently, fingers steepled before him. "A swift and merciful victory," he murmured. "An honorable goal. But war is rarely so clean."
The noble from before leaned forward again, this time directing his words at the king. "And what of the aftermath, Your Majesty? If our enemies are crushed too swiftly, negotiations will be rushed. Borders unsettled. The stability we seek may not last. Should we not take the time to consolidate our power before delivering the final blow?"
Another noble nodded in agreement. "Wars have their own rhythm. A decisive end is ideal, but if we move too fast, we risk unforeseen consequences. A few more weeks of careful advances would ensure that our dominion over the conquered territory is absolute."
Amelia kept her expression neutral, but she understood what they were really saying. They didn't want the war to end too soon—not because of strategy, but because they still had something to gain from it. Whether it was influence, personal wealth, or the weakening of rival factions, they saw opportunity in prolonging the conflict.
Briefly, her gaze shifted toward her sisters and Mikael. She caught a faint glimmer of realization on Lyra's face, while Mikael and Kiara remained expressionless. It was clear that their understanding of politics—and everything that stemmed from it—was not yet deep enough to fully grasp what was unfolding in this room.
And that was only natural. Unlike her and Lyra, who had been raised in noble households, Mikael and Kiara came from ordinary backgrounds. Especially her—having been brought up as the heiress of a duke, Amelia had long been immersed in the complexities of politics and consequently understood what the nobles were doing.
Still, this was neither the time nor the place to openly challenge them.
After Amelia conveyed the will of the Goddess, the discussion intensified. It lasted for over an hour, with multiple strategies proposed, debated, modified, and ultimately discarded. Again and again, they refined their approach until they finally settled on a decisive plan.
The core of this strategy revolved around the sheer power of the divine envoys. Mikael and his group would strike directly at the most critical locations, delivering devastating blows that would shatter the Valden Kingdom's war effort. In the wake of their attacks, the Rithen Kingdom's forces would advance, securing territory with minimal resistance.
An emphasis was placed on minimizing unnecessary bloodshed. Rather than indiscriminately slaughtering enemy soldiers, priority would be given to capturing them whenever possible. The goal was not merely to secure victory but to do so in a way that upheld their 'divine mission'—ensuring that, when the dust settled, fewer families on both sides would be left grieving.
As the meeting concluded, the divine envoys were escorted to an opulent mansion within the Inner Circle of the capital. Reserved for only the highest-ranking nobility, the estate exuded wealth and status, its grand halls adorned with intricate tapestries and marble pillars that gleamed under soft candlelight. There, they would spend the night, preparing for what was to come.
Yet, the night was anything but quiet. Word of their arrival spread like wildfire, sweeping through the palace and the high-ranking noble households. The revelation that Seraphis, the Goddess of Purity and Protection, had personally sent envoys to aid the kingdom sent shockwaves through the capital.
However, while the highest circles of power knew the truth, among the common people, the news remained nothing more than a rumor. Doubt prevailed, and most dismissed the whispers as exaggeration or mere fantasy. With no official declaration from the palace or even the church, the claim of 'divine envoys' was still nothing more than hearsay.
Within the palace, however, the reality was undeniable. The reactions were mixed. Some welcomed the news with joy, hoping divine intervention would finally bring an end to the war. Others, filled with awe and curiosity, eagerly anticipated the chance to witness the envoys' power with their own eyes. But not all were pleased. There were those who thrived in the chaos of war, who profited from prolonged conflict and political instability. For them, the arrival of these envoys was nothing short of a disruption—a direct threat to their ambitions.
Opinions varied, but one thing was certain—the arrival of Mikael and his group marked the beginning of great upheaval in the Rithen Kingdom.
Morning arrived, and as the first light of dawn bathed the capital in gold, the divine envoys left their mansion and made their way toward the general quarters of the royal palace. This was the domain of the kingdom's elite warriors—the Adamant Guards.
The Adamant Guards were the pinnacle of Rithen's military might, consisting only of the most elite soldiers. Becoming one of them required far more than simple combat ability.
First, recruits had to endure an excruciatingly rigorous military camp, designed to push both body and mind to their absolute limits. Through this, they not only grew stronger but also mastered various weapons, honing their skills for both survival and execution.
But combat prowess alone was not enough. They were also trained to ride warhorses, fight unarmed, and adapt to a variety of combat scenarios. This brutal training lasted an entire year, after which the recruits would enter the regular army—not as ordinary soldiers, but as part of a special unit reserved for potential candidates for the Adamant Guards.
Their time in the army spanned another year, during which they continued their training while learning the intricacies of warfare—tactics, strategy, and battlefield command. Only at the end of this period would they face their final test.
Selection was not based on skill alone. Performance during training, battlefield conduct, unwavering loyalty to the Rithen Kingdom—all were weighed carefully. Only those who met every criterion were granted the honor of joining the Adamant Guards. Those who failed were not discarded but instead assigned to elite units within the regular army, a testament to the sheer level of excellence demanded by the Adamant Guards. Even their 'failures' were still a cut above ordinary soldiers.
Author Note:
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