General Thanason moved through the ranks.
A moving mountain between rows of soldiers. In his presence, every back straightened, head raised, and eyes grew focused and determined.
Pride pulling their spines upright in a way magic could never do.
Pride. Honour. Determination. These were the pillars of a soldier.
A true soldier.
They didn't need to be good men. He didn't care if they were. Whether they wanted to protect or kill, raise things to the ground or build them up, it was none of his business.
As long as they had these three pillars, they earned the title of a soldier.
It was not only in the way he carried himself that affected them so. Not only in who he was.
But the stories that had been told about him – the ones he had carved for himself through a life of blood and grit.
To them he was a culmination of battles fought, of impossible odds won.
A soldier was like a candle. A small resilient flame within the cold winds of war.
And each one of them recognized the inferno in their midst.
A leader. A true leader couldn't only take charge. That was merely a fraction of their role. They were meant to be a billboard. A living and breathing affirmation of all the dreams of those who served them.
A walking advertisement of their own potential.
And as their General, Thanason saw it as his duty to remind his men of it as often as he could. To show them just how far they could go.
He was a reminder. The path to power had already been trodden. The path already carved, they only needed to begin walking.
The first thing Thanason believed in, was if a man was willing to die for you, it was your job to show them exactly who they were dying for.
Nodding to himself, he moved back to the front of the ranks next to Commander Tatheer.
"You've done well Commander" Thanason boomed, voice deep and carrying. "With men like these, there can be no doubt of our victory."
"Thank you General."
Tatheer saluted with a practiced precision, gaze unwavering. Though he caught the hint of pride in the commander's eyes.
That was good.
A leader must also have pride in his men, otherwise they'd never be anything more than disposable body bags.
War had no use for body bags,, and neither did he.
Thanason's gaze swept over the soldiers like a blade in the air. They felt the weight of his gaze as he met each and every one of them.
Then slowly, purposefully, ensuring all eyes were on him...he raised his hand in salute.
That was the second thing he believed. If a man was willing to die for you. He damned well earned your respect.
The soldiers saluted in response, their voicing rising in a unified, wordless roar of resolve.
The salute.
That was the roar of a soldier. Since the time of King Arthur himself.
A figure approached him. Red hair catching in the rising.
"General," said Officer Scarlet, saluting smartly.
"Officer," Thanason replied with a curt nod. "Status report."
"All units are ready, sir. All commanders have been briefed."
"And your own unit?" he asked. There was no need to elaborate. Scarlet knew exactly who he meant.
Noah and Arthur.
They were the outliers.
The unpredictable variables in an otherwise flawless equation. Boys like them would usually have never found themselves in his own forces. They weren't even soldiers. They were criminals, outcasts, misfits. And worse, they were as green as forest sap.
Yet somehow, there were here. Through sheer force of will, or luck, they'd carved a place for themselves here.
He...was unsure of those two.
Thanason could crush them. Become their largest nightmare, and not one person would bat an eyelid. At best they'd cheer, and at worst, they'd turn a blind eye.
And yet…he wouldn't.
Not yet at least. For now, he would wait. Out of respect for what they had achieved…no matter how impossible it sounded. And even more importantly, out of respect of those who had spoken to him on their behalf.
Because of that. He would wait. Watch. Form his own conclusions.
"I'm worried about the two boys," Scarlet admitted. "They're green, too green. Noah's gifted with the sword, but hasn't had nearly enough training to polish that talent. And Arthur…"
She hesitated. "Well, sir, I've never met anyone as catastrophically bad with a sword as him."
Thanason raised a brow. "Doesn't he use a spear?"
"He does," she replied. "But he's had no formal training in it. I certainly never trained him, and neither did Skelter. It seems impossible he can even wield one, and yet somehow he does. It's remarkable honestly."
Thanason stroked his chin thoughtfully. He had seen a glimpse of Arthur's sparring match with that friend of his. It hadn't looked like the work of an untrained fighter.
Not at all. But he trusted Officer Scarlet's words.
"Keep them close," he said at last. "They'll march with the Army of Light. Their skills aren't needed for the opening strike."
"Yes, sir." Scarlet saluted and turned away.
He watched her go. She'd need to return to her unit. Time was pressing.
As for him?
It was time to lead.
The Army of Light assembled along with the rising sun. Dawn had arrived. Accompanied with cold steel in firm hands.
His men.
Assembled outside the walls of the Fort. Rows upon rows of them, each one ready. The new light of day catching on their blades and helms.
Hundreds of temporary teleporters had been erected like metallic obelisks across the plain, casting jagged, angular shadows over the churned soil. Arcane symbols hummed along their frames, glowing faintly in anticipation.
The wind carried the faint scent of steel. Of magic.
Of blood waiting to spill.
And it would.
The Battle of Fort Lanai was about to begin. And it would arrive with the fury of a new day...