Albert's white horse hadn't even fully stopped before he leaped off.
The ground in Vallenwood still reeked of burnt wood and iron, but now that smell mingled with others—horse sweat, weapon oil, and tension. At the eastern gate, soldiers were running in every direction. Some carried crates of arrows, others dragged wooden beams to reinforce the defenses. Shouted orders collided in the air.
"Lord Götthain!" A courier appeared at his side, breathless. "Lord Harald is waiting. Meeting room, now."
Albert handed his reins to the nearest soldier without looking. "Luise, handle the new troops. Hilda, position the archers on the eastern wall. I don't know how long this meeting will last."
"Understood."
He strode quickly through the front courtyard of the former Leandria barracks, now the temporary headquarters for Helvetia soldiers. The smell of smoke from the kitchens mixed with the scent of herbs from the recovery tents. A medic rushed past, arms full of bloody bandages. Two soldiers sat by the well—one pressing cloth to a head wound, the other clutching his abdomen where his intestines nearly spilled out.
Albert didn't stop.
The meeting room door swung open. The air inside was even more stifling than outside—too many people, too few windows. Lord Harald sat at the head of the table, his face more wrinkled than it had been just last week. Lady Mirelle beside him, her fingers tapping rapidly on the table—nervous. Earl William in his corner, arms crossed, jaw set tight.
And the map. A massive map spread across the table, marked with new red lines that hadn't been there yesterday.
"Sit," Lord Harald said.
Albert took an empty seat—now positioned closer to the center. He didn't care about that. His eyes were fixed on the map.
"One hundred and forty thousand soldiers." Lord Harald dispensed with pleasantries. His voice was hoarse, as if he'd been shouting for hours. "Moving from the north in three columns. Heavy infantry in the center, cavalry on the flanks, archers and siege engines bringing up the rear."
"When?" Albert asked.
"Two months. Maybe less, depending on weather and road conditions."
Lady Mirelle pointed at various spots on the map. "They'll besiege Vallenwood. Not a frontal assault—they know we're too strong behind these walls. They'll cut our supply lines, starve us out, then crush us when we're weak."
"How many supplies do we have?"
"For twenty thousand soldiers? Barely a month at most." Lord Harald exhaled heavily. "We need more... much more."
The room fell silent. Albert calculated in his head. Twenty thousand soldiers. One hundred and forty thousand enemies. One month of supplies. A siege could last months.
It would be easier if they still had the one hundred and twenty thousand troops that had originally attacked this city. Unfortunately, most had been redeployed.
"The Kingdom," he said.
Everyone turned to look at him.
"We need to request reinforcements from the Kingdom. Not soldiers—food. Grain, salted meat, anything that can last. If they send it now, we can hold out until winter."
Earl William snorted. "The Kingdom? They already sent plenty of soldiers and supplies when we attacked this city. You think they have unlimited reserves?"
"They do." Albert met his gaze evenly. "The question isn't whether they have it, but whether they're willing to send it. The nobles won't just dispatch troops and supplies to the front lines without reason..."
Lord Harald rubbed his face. "I already sent messengers to the capital last night. A letter directly to King Wilhelm. But it takes time—two weeks travel, two weeks for a reply, two weeks for delivery. That's optimistic."
"We need to hold out until reinforcements arrive."
"How?"
Albert pointed at the map. "Empty the surrounding villages. Bring all food into the city. Burn what can't be carried. The enemy shouldn't find anything here."
Lady Mirelle nodded slowly. "Scorched earth?"
"Yes."
"And the villagers?"
"They come into the city or die outside." Albert's voice was flat. "The choice isn't ours to make."
Lord Harald studied him for a long moment. Then he nodded. "Do it. You're in charge of evacuating the eastern villages. Bring everything edible, burn the rest. If anyone refuses..."
He didn't need to finish the sentence.
Albert stood. "Understood."
He left without waiting for further orders.
***
Outside, the sun had begun its descent. The sky above Vallenwood burned orange—the same color as the fire from weeks ago.
Leo waited by the well, still brimming with excessive enthusiasm. The moment he spotted Albert, he ran over.
"COMMANDER! What orders did they give? Are we going to fight? When? Where? Can I come?"
Albert stopped. Looked at the young man. Those sparkling brown eyes, that wide smile.
He remembered himself. A twenty-five-year-old, staring at a computer screen, clicking an online enlistment form. "A desperate escape," he'd thought at the time. "Adventure, good pay, heroic tales."
He hadn't imagined the stench of corpses and mud. Hadn't imagined Dmytro blown apart beside him. Hadn't imagined drones overhead dropping bombs, then darkness.
"Leo," he called.
"YES?"
"First lesson."
Leo perked up. "What is it?"
Albert stepped forward. One step. Two step.
His right hand moved fast—not a full-powered punch, but a hard strike with the base of his palm, landing squarely on Leo's jaw.
CRACK.
The sound was small, like flesh being struck. Leo didn't have time to cry out. His eyes went wide—shock, disbelief—then his body went limp, knees buckling, collapsing to the ground like a sack.
Albert stood over him, waiting.
Ten seconds. Leo still didn't move. He was still breathing—chest rising and falling slowly—but his eyes were closed, mouth hanging open.
Luise appeared from behind, looking at the body, then at Albert.
"What the hell was that?"
"First lesson." Albert crouched, checking Leo's jaw. No broken bones—just stunned. Knocked out. "Respect your superiors and always follow my orders."
Luise exhaled slowly.
"I already told him, but he didn't listen." Albert stood. "Now he'll listen... he'll listen when he wakes up."
A few soldiers began gathering, staring at the unconscious young man. A man-at-arms—a Valeran survivor—snorted. "New guy?"
"Yes."
"Typical! I got a hard punch from you back in the day too." He laughed, then turned and went back to work.
The others dispersed. No one cared. On a battlefield, a young man knocked out by his commander's slap was the least of anyone's concerns.
Albert looked at Luise. "Take him to the recovery tent. Have Gerit check him out. When he wakes up, tell him to find me tomorrow morning."
"Tomorrow morning?"
"Yes. Lesson two."
He turned and walked toward the eastern wall, leaving Leo on the ground, Luise shaking her head, and the evening sky turning red above Vallenwood.