In the town of Telmeh, 212 kilometers north of Kisor, the atmosphere was completely different. Instead of refugee camps, its streets teemed with soldiers of Duke Friedrich Junis celebrating their recent victories. Inside the grand hall of Telmeh's palace, Duke Friedrich sat at the head of an enormous table surrounded by his allied nobles. Friedrich was a massive man with a thick black beard and piercing eyes that reflected boundless ambition.
"Gentlemen!" Friedrich boomed, slamming his fist on the table. "The fall of Sirikan, Telmeh, and Siraji! These are great victories! We've shown that weakling king our era has begun!"
Lord Valerian Cross, a slender noble with a cunning face sitting to Friedrich's right, smiled. "Indeed, my Duke. We've demonstrated our power. King Alexander wouldn't dare face us now."
"But Duke Royal Yannis, the king's cousin, still stands in our way," said Lord Gregor Stone, a massive man with harsh features seated to Friedrich's left. "His forces gather at Tel Mima. We must crush him before he rallies more support."
"Yannis is just the king's lapdog," Friedrich sneered. "But he does have some strength. Valerian, what are his current numbers?"
"Our spies report about 20,000 troops, my Duke," Valerian answered. "10,000 from the royal army Alexander sent from the capital Bido. The rest are Yannis's personal forces and minor allies."
"20,000?" laughed Lord Elia Thorn, a reckless young noble. "That's nothing against our might! We should attack now!"
"Recklessness isn't wisdom, Elia," Friedrich said coolly. "We're planning a decisive blow - one that will end Alexander's reign forever. For that, we need overwhelming force."
Friedrich looked around the table. "I've sent word to my capital, Maklonia. I've ordered 12,000 additional troops mobilized. Combined with our current 13,000, my personal forces alone will number 25,000 soldiers."
The nobles' eyes widened. 25,000 troops from Friedrich's duchy alone! An enormous number.
"And with your contributions, gentlemen," Friedrich continued, looking at each noble in turn. "You've pledged 20,000 additional troops from your duchies. That brings our alliance's total to 45,000 soldiers!"
An impressed murmur rose among the nobles. 45,000 troops! An army the kingdom hadn't seen in centuries.
"With this force, we'll crush Yannis, then march on Bido and take the kingdom's throne!" Friedrich declared, eyes blazing with triumph. "I want reinforcements here within two weeks. Then we move. No mercy, no retreat!"
At Tel Mima: The Royal Duke's Camp
96 kilometers northeast of Kisor at Tel Mima, Royal Duke Yannis sat in his command tent. A man in his fifties with worry lines but royal determination in his eyes, Yannis was the king's cousin and one of the crown's last loyalists.
"The situation worsens," Yannis told his commanders, pointing to the kingdom map. "The fall of Sirikan, Telmeh, and Siraji... Friedrich advances with unbelievable speed."
"His forces grow daily, my Duke," said General Alvin, commander of the royal army King Alexander had sent. "Our reports indicate he's assembling a massive army. We have 20,000 here - 10,000 of my troops and 10,000 of yours and your allies. Not enough to face Friedrich if he gathers his full strength."
"I know, Alvin," Yannis said, rubbing his beard. "But King Alexander can send no more. Internal rebellions drain his forces. We must rely on ourselves."
"What's our plan then, my Duke?" asked Lord Richard, one of Yannis's allies. "Do we attack now before Friedrich completes his muster?"
"A direct assault would be suicide," Yannis said. "Friedrich's forces outnumber and out-equip us even now. We must choose our battlefield wisely. Use terrain to our advantage. Could we prepare an ambush in Givari Forest?"
"Givari is rugged terrain, my Duke," Alvin said. "But it could make a good trap. We could slow their advance and inflict casualties. But we need precise intelligence on their movements."
"Our spies work tirelessly," Yannis said. "But penetrating Friedrich's ranks proves difficult. We must be cautious. Any mistake could cost us everything."
Tension hung thick in the royal duke's camp. They faced a powerful enemy with limited resources. Their only hope lay in clever planning and courageous fighting.
In Kisor: The Cannon's Roar
Meanwhile in Kisor, Zidan stood before a thick cement wall built specifically for testing the new cannon. With him were Sifara, Javier, Marion, five elite soldiers, and Master Rogo. Anticipation charged the air.
"Are we ready, Master Rogo?" Zidan asked.
"Fully prepared, Lord Baron!" Rogo said excitedly, adjusting his thick glasses. "We've loaded the cannon with a solid iron ball and precisely measured gunpowder. This cannon, my lord, is a 24-pounder culverin - a scaled-down version of your design but powerful enough to wreak terrible destruction."
Rogo gestured to the imposing cannon, its black muzzle aimed at the cement wall.
"Stand back, gentlemen!" Zidan ordered.
Everyone retreated to a safe distance. Rogo took a long fuse, lit one end, and slowly approached the cannon's firing hole.
Complete silence fell. Then...
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
Absolute stillness gripped the area as expressions of shock and terror appeared on every face.
Suddenly, Rogo burst into loud laughter.
"HAHAHAHAHA! We've done it, my lord! We've succeeded!"
Horrified expressions remained on Sifara, Marion, Javier and the five soldiers' faces.
Sifara spoke quietly: "This isn't magic... but it's the closest thing to magic." Then laughing, he added, "I think we might truly rule the world now."