The morning mist clung to the plains, softening the edges of distant hills and veiling the movements of armies in a gray haze. Elder stood atop the ridge, his spear planted firmly in the earth, eyes scanning the horizon. The Seeds of Rebellion had begun to sprout. Minor officers, border units, and sympathizers within the enemy ranks had started to act subtly, yet their actions combined into a pattern that Elder could manipulate. Dominion pulsed within him, guiding each decision, each movement, each whispered instruction.
"Today," Mara said, her voice cutting through the mist, "we test the network. This is the first real evaluation of your threads. If they fail, we lose initiative."
Elder nodded. "Then we tighten the web. Every thread must hold. Every ally must act precisely. This is where influence becomes strategy, and strategy becomes war."
He called his council, spread maps across the table, and pointed to converging movements of enemy forces. "The Crimson Dominion's left flank is slow to reinforce its forward units," he explained. "The High Empire is expecting an attack in the south. We will manipulate both expectations, using our internal allies to delay or misdirect reinforcements. Minor mercenary units will probe for openings, then withdraw—creating chaos and uncertainty. Our goal is disruption, not confrontation. Timing is everything."
A captain frowned. "And the minor officers we've cultivated? If they hesitate or act wrongly, it could expose us."
Elder's gaze sharpened. "Then we provide subtle guidance. Dominion allows me to sense hesitation, miscalculation, or betrayal. We will monitor actions closely. The web must be observed as much as it is woven."
As dawn broke fully, envoys and trusted officers moved quietly within enemy camps. Their actions were subtle—delaying orders, questioning commands, suggesting phantom threats, and subtly encouraging units to act out of sequence. Elder monitored each report, adjusting the movements of mercenary squads to exploit openings created by these disturbances.
Small skirmishes erupted on the plains, each carefully orchestrated to draw attention while leaving no decisive engagements. Smoke signals, fires, and minor raids were enough to keep the enemy guessing, delaying reinforcements, and testing the loyalty of the officers he had cultivated.
Elder's heart pounded as he coordinated the network. Dominion pulsed in his chest, giving him insight into uncertainty, fear, and ambition within enemy ranks. A minor officer in the Crimson Dominion hesitated before delaying his troops—Elder sensed doubt and sent subtle guidance through a trusted envoy, reinforcing the idea that inaction would reduce his prestige. The officer complied, and the thread held.
Mara observed silently, noting each subtle success and minor setback. "You are weaving reality itself," she whispered. "Each action builds upon the last, and your influence spreads faster than any sword."
Elder's eyes narrowed. "Influence is a weapon of patience. It is slow, but inexorable. Each thread, once strengthened, can move entire armies without bloodshed. But if a thread breaks, the consequences are immediate and dangerous."
By midday, the battlefield had shifted remarkably. Supply lines were misdirected, forward units delayed, and minor skirmishes created confusion across both enemy forces. The web of rebellion worked exactly as Elder had planned: delays and miscommunications multiplied, causing officers to hesitate, commanders to second-guess, and soldiers to act inconsistently.
Elder sent his mercenary units to take advantage of openings, seizing hills, fording rivers, and capturing supply wagons. Each action was minor individually, but cumulatively, the disruption was profound. Enemy commanders were forced to adjust, exposing more vulnerabilities.
A scout returned with alarming news: a faction within the High Empire had grown suspicious of delays and was beginning to investigate internal dissent. Elder sensed the danger immediately. Dominion flared within him, offering guidance. "We must reinforce loyalty subtly. Distract suspicion without confrontation. The web must remain intact."
He dispatched envoys with minor gifts, strategically placed intelligence, and veiled threats—carefully maintaining the perception of honesty while cementing allegiance. Slowly, suspicion waned, and the web held firm.
As the sun began to set, Elder surveyed the battlefield from the ridge. The Crimson Dominion and High Empire were in disarray, their forces misaligned, morale fluctuating, and internal trust weakened. His mercenary units held key points of observation and influence, poised to exploit further openings.
Mara joined him, her expression tense but impressed. "You've done what many would consider impossible. Entire armies, moving unknowingly to your plans. But you cannot rest—this is only the beginning."
Elder nodded. "The web is alive. Each day, each action strengthens or weakens it. We must continue to guide, observe, and reinforce. Dominion is not static. It is dynamic, patient, and relentless."
Reports continued to arrive through the evening. Minor officers in the Crimson Dominion were subtly redirecting forces, while border units in the High Empire delayed actions as planned. Mercenary scouts returned with intelligence on troop movements, supply chain disruptions, and subtle fractures in command.
Elder absorbed it all, connecting patterns and adjusting the network. Threads that seemed minor now influenced larger outcomes, and minor manipulations cascaded into strategic advantage. The battlefield was no longer a simple measure of force—it was a living map of influence, shaped by his unseen hand.
Night fell, and Elder convened his council to review progress. Lanterns flickered over maps covered in markers for troop positions, alliances, and misdirections. "The web is holding," he reported. "Minor officers are loyal, border units are delayed, and supply lines disrupted. Our network has created a controlled chaos—enough to tip the balance without open conflict."
A captain spoke up cautiously. "And if the enemies discover the rebellion? Could it not backfire?"
Elder's gaze was sharp. "Then we ensure contingency plans. Every thread has redundancies, every ally has verification, and every action is observed. Dominion guides our decisions, ensuring that deception is precise, influence durable, and risk minimized. This is strategy beyond brute force."
Mara added, "Tomorrow, we push further. Test the limits of the web, expand influence, and prepare for decisive advantage. But beware—visibility increases risk. The larger the network grows, the more careful we must be."
Elder nodded, feeling the weight of responsibility and the thrill of control. Threads of loyalty, dissent, and manipulation stretched across the battlefield like a spider's web. Each was a calculated risk, balanced by foresight, observation, and Dominion.
He gazed toward the horizon, where distant fires indicated enemy camps and movements. "The web tightens," he murmured. "Every ally, every action, every subtle influence brings the battlefield closer to the vision we've crafted. Tomorrow, we test the web further, and the first true advantage will emerge."
The Seed pulsed in his chest, affirming his connection to the Dominion path. Influence, strategy, and subtle manipulation were no longer theoretical—they were the living, breathing instruments of control. Elder tightened his grip on his spear, ready to guide the threads, nurture the rebellion, and shape the battlefield into his design.
The war beyond Hallowford was no longer merely survival. It was a tapestry, and Elder was the weaver, pulling invisible threads that could bend empires, manipulate armies, and decide the fate of countless lives—all without a single decisive strike of steel.
As night deepened, Elder remained on the ridge, eyes fixed on the distant fires, heart steady, mind focused, and Dominion guiding every thought. The web was alive. The threads were strong. And the first true test of his network was about to unfold.