Doric, the Pamir Empire's commanding general, trembled with rage. His face flushed red as he shouted, "Coward! Ordering a dragon to massacre my men—have you no honor as a knight?"
A veteran tribal chief and warrior for over fifty years, Doric's voice carried across the battlefield.
Michael sneered in response. "Honor? In war, it's results that matter, not honor."
Without hesitation, Michael drew his bow and aimed at Doric. He had been searching for the general's location, and now Doric had revealed himself.
Before Doric could react, an arrow struck him square in the forehead. His eyes widened in shock as he toppled from his horse, lifeless.
The startled horse reared back with a loud whinny as Doric's body hit the ground, raising a cloud of dust. His death was sudden and futile.
"Chief! How could this happen?"
Michael watched coldly as warriors rushed toward Doric's fallen body. He nocked another arrow and loosed it at the grieving soldiers. One by one, they fell, unable even to scream.
The battlefield fell into an eerie silence. The wailing stopped, and no one dared move, even as their comrades lay dead around them.
Sensing victory, Michael raised his voice, letting it carry across the battlefield.
"I am Michael von Crassus, commander of the First Corps of the Kingdom of Lania. The commanding general of the Pamir Empire's forces is dead—killed by my hand. I repeat, the Pamir Empire's general is dead. Surrender now!"
His declaration, carried by the wind, struck the enemy troops already consumed by chaos and fear. The cavalry under the Crassus banner intensified their assault, trampling over the disheartened soldiers.
One by one, the Pamir soldiers dropped their weapons and fell to the ground, their faces etched with despair and exhaustion.
With their siege engines destroyed, their beasts slain, and their leaders picked off by unseen arrows, resistance became meaningless.
The battlefield grew quiet. The once fearsome Pamir army, which had charged toward the fortress with such confidence, now surrendered en masse.
Michael dismounted from Marcus, dust trailing behind him. A standard bearer approached and knelt before him, offering a flag emblazoned with the image of a roaring sphinx and dragon.
Taking the flag, Michael marched to the center of the battlefield and drove it firmly into the ground.
A gust of wind unfurled the banner, its bold colors catching the light of the setting sun.
The air filled with a triumphant roar of cheers.
It was a flawless victory.
The first victory against the Pamir Empire's invasion brought joy to both Elonia and Lania.
King Henry III of Elonia received the news of the triumph at the royal palace. Letting out a deep sigh of relief, he wiped tears from his eyes. For the first time, it felt as though the kingdom had taken a step back from the brink of ruin. A sense of joy replaced the heavy burden on his face.
The queen, who had been abstaining from food and drink since sending her daughters to the frontlines with the grim task of seducing Prince Randolph, finally rose from her bed. The princesses had departed with the resolve to sacrifice their dignity to save their imperiled country.
However, with such a significant victory, there was no longer any need for such desperate measures. Instead of rushing to use such drastic tactics, there was now a foundation for a more gradual approach. The queen began drafting a letter to the eldest princess, Elise, to inform her of the change in circumstances.
Meanwhile, the Kingdom of Lania also celebrated. Although they had initially planned only nominal participation in the war, the victory was nonetheless an opportunity to claim credit—a welcome prospect for all.
King Charles V of Lania entered the council chamber with a broad smile, holding the victorious report in hand. Nobles already assembled offered their congratulations as the king strode in.
The one most recognized as the hero of the victory was Michael, who had led the charge to success. Charles V, too, joined the nobles in heaping praise on Michael, delighted by how this achievement could further bolster Prince Randolph's reputation.
"Michael's contributions to this victory are unparalleled," the king declared. "Randolph met him near the Elonian border and spoke highly of his exceptional talents."
The king's intentions were clear, and the ministers quickly followed suit, showering the crown prince with praise.
One noble remarked, "No matter how talented an individual may be, it's useless without someone to recognize and promote them. This victory is thanks to His Highness's keen eye for talent."
Another added, "Indeed, Your Majesty. It's said that His Highness elevated Michael from a mere commander to a baron and entrusted him with leading the First Corps. Such discernment is a blessing for the kingdom."
Pleased with the reactions, Charles V beamed. Sending the crown prince to the frontlines to gain experience had proven to be a wise decision. If things continued as they were, there would be little more to wish for.
Elonia sent its princesses and crown prince to celebrate Lania's victory, a gesture that could be considered the highest level of hospitality during wartime.
A grand banquet was held in the fortress hall under the pretense of honoring the soldiers who had defended the frontlines. While the pretext was plausible, the keen observers in attendance were quick to discern Elonia's true intentions.
The extravagance of the banquet was excessive, considering Elonia's dire circumstances. Golden chandeliers bathed the hall in radiant light, dancers and dwarven performers entertained the guests, and the atmosphere was more akin to a peacetime celebration than a hasty wartime gathering.
The highlight of the evening came with the arrival of the princesses, who entered the hall impeccably dressed to emphasize their unique charms. Although the Elonian crown prince accompanied them, he remained in the background, allowing the princesses to take center stage.
The sudden appearance of the princesses caused a stir among the attendees. Conversations ceased as all eyes turned to admire their elegant figures.