The Blizzard Legion's Hidden Lieutenant
Dorak had long been a member of Aaron's crew. However, aside from a handful of people who knew the truth, no one would have ever guessed that this seemingly loyal lieutenant of the Blizzard Legion was, in fact, one of Aaron's men.
Following Aaron's orders, Dorak infiltrated the city's garrison army, secretly providing intelligence about the upper noble class to Aaron's organization.
With covert financial backing from Aaron's forces and his own respectable strength, Dorak quickly rose through the ranks of the garrison. Within a short time, he became a battalion commander overseeing more than a hundred soldiers, earning the rank of sergeant major. From that position, he began quietly placing loyalists within the garrison's structure.
After the civil war broke out, the Blizzard Legion, though victorious had suffered heavy losses. To replenish its ranks with capable soldiers, it began recruiting from both the Snowstorm Legion and the Vilia Port City Guard.
Dorak, with his remarkable skill and spotless record, was successfully selected to join the Blizzard Legion. Soon after, he was promoted to second lieutenant, commanding over a hundred fresh recruits.
Known for his boldness, generosity, and diligence, along with his record of flawlessly executing assigned missions, Dorak rapidly earned the favor of his superiors and was promoted once more to full lieutenant, entrusted with the defense of a section of Snowstorm City.
That day, Dorak was, as always, dutifully carrying out his orders. Leading over three hundred men, he swiftly departed the city to the front lines to coordinate with other rebel forces, confronting the royal army across the snowy plains.
"Lieutenant Dorak, do you think we'll actually fight this time?"
His adjutant whispered from beside him.
Nearby rebel soldiers, nervous but curious immediately pricked up their ears, hoping to hear what this well-informed officer might say.
But to their disappointment, the usually affable and talkative Dorak said nothing. His expression hardened as he stared coldly toward the royal army lines ahead, his eyes flickering with a trace of hatred.
Seeing this, the rebel soldiers needed no words to understand his meaning: a battle was almost certain to break out.
Yet, rather than fear, most of them felt a surge of grim excitement.
In recent months, they had all tasted battle firsthand, watching familiar comrades die beside them. None knew how much longer the civil war would last. Each day was lived under the shadow of death, cut off from home and family, with only news of famine and hardship reaching them.
They were sick of it all.
If one decisive battle could end this war, then so be it.
If they were doomed to die anyway, they would rather fight with what strength they had left than waste away in despair.
To end this civil war, to return life to what it once was
That was the wish burning in the hearts of soldiers on both sides.
As both armies massed on the field, tensions escalated. Officers struggled to maintain control over their men. It started when one soldier, unable to contain his hatred, shouted an insult. Soon, both sides were hurling vicious taunts across the field, words that cut deeper than blades.
The atmosphere turned razor-sharp.
"Idiots! Stop them immediately! If this continues, a full-scale battle will erupt! Our goal is only to hold them in place!"
The royal army's commander-in-chief, Norland, shouted furiously into his Den-Den Mushi.
On the other side, the rebel commander, Glynn, was doing the same, ordering his officers to calm their troops.
But quelling the hatred of one man was easy; suppressing the rage of thousands was not. Especially when certain hawkish officers were already itching for blood, peace was almost impossible to maintain.
Suddenly
Bang!
A single gunshot cracked through the tension. No one knew which rebel soldier's weapon had misfired, but a royal soldier fell dead instantly.
"Kill those damn rebels!"
Enraged by the sight of their fallen comrade, the royal soldiers opened fire.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
In an instant, gunfire erupted across the field.
The first large-scale battle of the civil war had begun.
"Damn it! Those filthy peasants dare to disobey my orders?!"
Hearing the echoing gunfire and the roar of cannons, Norland's composure shattered. Gone was his usual aristocratic calm, he stamped his foot and cursed wildly inside his command tent.
His adjutant, Milton, a fallen noble himself, smirked coldly at the sight.
Men like Norland had no understanding of their soldiers' suffering, nor did they care. To them, soldiers' lives were as worthless as weeds. They existed only to obey, not to think or to feel.
"Fine! If they want to fight, then so be it. Send the order, full assault! Crush the rebels!"
Norland bellowed, regaining his composure just long enough to bark commands.
Rebel commander Glynn did the same, issuing his own order for a general offensive.
And so, on June 26th, 1508 of the Sea Circle Calendar, the King's Army and the Rebel Forces clashed in the first grand battle of the Drum Kingdom's civil war.
Nearly 50,000 soldiers engaged in brutal combat outside Snowstorm City
a battle later remembered in history as The Battle of Snow and Storm.
"So... it's finally begun. Fight then, fight until you both fall."
High upon the cliffs of Drum's massive snow peaks, Aaron, mid-training, retrieved a Den-Den Mushi wrapped in a padded coat.
Listening to the Shadow Organization's report of the outbreak, he sneered coldly.
After giving brief orders to the person on the other end, he pocketed the Den-Den Mushi and resumed his climb, his expression as frigid as the howling wind and snow around him.
"Maysfield... just who are you? Three ships' worth of grain, and the whole kingdom plunges into war..."
In the main chamber of the Dars Syndicate's headquarters, Sofia set down her receiver after hearing her informant's latest report, murmuring to herself in thought.
"Fuffuffuffu... things are getting more and more interesting. Yes... destroy it all. Let this rotten world hurry up and rebuild itself."
Aboard the Numancia Flamingo, docked at the Sabaody Archipelago, Donquixote Doflamingo let out his signature laugh, thrilled by the unfolding chaos.
Stepping from his cabin, he extended his long tongue and shouted to his crew:
"Set sail, boys! Our destination, Drum Island!"
Meanwhile, in the port town of Snow
"Do we really have to do this?"
Shuma asked, glancing between the torch in Arik's hand and the warehouse packed full of fine grain. His voice carried a hint of regret.
"No gain without sacrifice,"
Arik replied coldly. Despite the flickering firelight, not a hint of emotion showed in his eyes.
Without another word, he hurled the torch into the oil-soaked grain.
Flames erupted instantly, spreading like wildfire.
The warehouse, and the precious food within was swallowed by the inferno.
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