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Chapter 43 - CHAPTER 44: The Scorched Earth Protocol

We have five outposts," Runa stated, her tactical mind racing. "Four hundred of our people live outside these stone walls, working the timber, the cows, and the river. We must send the 70 Elite Guards to reinforce them."

Bilal closed his eyes. The memory of the thirty orphans he lost in the "Epic Punishment War" flashed behind his eyelids. He felt the phantom pain in his chest. He would not make the same arrogant mistake twice.

"No," Bilal commanded, opening his eyes. The fire of the Patriarch burned fiercely. "If we spread seventy men across five wooden forts, they will be swallowed by the horde. Olaf will burn the wooden walls and slaughter our people while we watch helplessly from the Citadel."

Astrid looked at him, knowing the horrific calculation he was making. "You want to abandon the outposts? We spent five years building them."

"We do not fight for the wood and the dirt," Bilal said, his voice hard as iron. "We fight for the blood. Initiate the Scorched Earth Protocol."

For the next three days, the valley of Axiomra was a frenzy of hyper-efficient panic.

Riders sprinted to the five outposts. The orders were absolute: Take the food, take the steel, and abandon the walls.

Hundreds of citizens, dragging wheelbarrows overflowing with grain, salted beef, and medical supplies, poured into the main Stone Citadel. They drove the massive "Super Cows" into the inner courtyards.

And then, Bilal's men did the unthinkable. With heavy hearts, they set fire to their own outposts.

They burned the beautiful wooden barracks they had built with their own hands. They collapsed the bridges. They poisoned the outer wells with animal carcasses. They poured salt into the fields.

When the massive, sprawling army of Norwegian and Swedish Jarls finally marched into the valley, they did not find a rich, sprawling utopia ready to be pillaged for winter supplies.

They found a blackened, smoking, toxic wasteland of mud and ash.

And in the very center of that desolate graveyard, rising fifteen feet into the freezing grey sky, stood the blinding white stone walls of the Axiomra Citadel.

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