Re: An Age of Ashes

The war room was alive with the hum of activity as Adrian walked through the door, a step heavier than before. His boots clacked against the stone floor with a rhythm that mirrored the pounding of his heart. He had no time to waste. Every moment was a step closer to Ronsweiler's advancing forces, and every second spent in indecision could be their last.

Helene's voice echoed softly behind him as she closed the door to the chamber, leaving the two of them alone with the officers. The room, despite the warmth of the hearth burning in the corner, felt cold—a room of military men, trained for battle, yet wary of what was coming. Maps were spread out on the table, their edges curling in places, stained with years of use. Scrolls and hastily scrawled notes lay scattered beside them, marking the uncertainty of the situation.

Adrian surveyed the room quickly. The officers sat at the table, their expressions grim. Their faces were older than he had expected, worn by years of fighting and command. Their eyes, though filled with a mix of exhaustion and doubt, still held a fire that Adrian knew would be necessary. He would need every ounce of their resolve if he was going to pull this off.

The bearded officer, who had been the most vocal in the last meeting, stood first. His posture was stiff, as if weighed down by the looming threat of the coming war. His hands were clasped behind his back, his expression solemn. "My lord," he began, his voice carrying the same roughness as his appearance, "we are ready to hear your plans. We know what we face. Ronsweiler's forces are vast, and their tactics... well, they are battle-hardened. They know how to fight."

Adrian held his gaze, allowing the weight of the words to settle in the air between them. "And we will face them as one," he replied, his voice firm and clear. He needed them to understand—this wasn't just about holding their ground. It wasn't just about defense. "We will meet them with everything we have, and then some."

Helene moved to the table, smoothing out a large map that had been unrolled, its edges curling slightly. She pointed to the northern border where Ronsweiler's forces were expected to breach. "The key to their advance will be this pass," she said, her finger tracing a line through the mountains. "If they make it through here, we will be exposed to a full assault on our lands. We have no fortifications to hold them off. No defense in place to counter such a push."

The officers murmured among themselves, some nodding in agreement, others looking uncertain. Adrian listened intently, piecing together the puzzle. His military instincts kicked in, but he had to remember where he was—there was no room for innovation in the ways he had learned to command. He couldn't rely on the tools of his former world, the strategies he knew so well. He had to think like they did, to see things through their eyes.

"What is our current strength?" Adrian asked, focusing on the map.

The older officer with graying hair, who had been quiet until now, spoke. "We can muster about a thousand men, but many are conscripts, poorly trained and undisciplined. Our veterans number less than two hundred, and even they are out of practice."

Adrian's mind raced. The numbers were dire, but not insurmountable. It wasn't the number of soldiers that decided the outcome of a battle—it was how they fought, how they were led. He needed to forge an army not from raw numbers but from disciplined men who could fight together as one.

"We'll begin training immediately," Adrian said. His voice was low, but carried the weight of command. "It won't be enough to merely hold the line. We need to act decisively. We must fortify our position and create choke points where we can control the flow of battle."

Helene raised an eyebrow, her gaze steady as she processed his words. "How do you intend to accomplish this, my lord? We have no time to build proper fortifications, and we cannot hope to turn these men into soldiers overnight."

"I am not asking for miracles," Adrian replied, his eyes sharp as he turned to face the officers. "But we can make them capable of holding a defensive position. We will use what we have to our advantage. We will fortify the pass, use the land to control their advance. We need to prepare every man who can fight. No one will stand idle."

The officers exchanged uncertain glances, the silence thick with doubt. The older officer with the beard, who had been the most vocal in their previous discussions, spoke up again. "My lord, we cannot expect the conscripts to fight as our veterans do. These men have never seen a battle, and their resolve will falter when the enemy comes. Even our veterans, as few as they are, have not fought in years."

Adrian nodded slowly, understanding the weight of their concern. He had faced the same uncertainty many times before, and he knew the only way to steel men for war was through leadership—confidence, discipline, and trust.

"Then we will show them what it means to fight for their land," Adrian said, his voice growing more resolute. "We will teach them not to fight for glory, but for survival. For their families. For their homes. We will build their strength not through fancy weapons or armor, but through unity. Through shared purpose."

The bearded officer's lips tightened into a thin line, but there was no mistaking the flicker of understanding in his eyes. "And how do you propose to unify them, my lord?"

Adrian's gaze turned back to the map, his finger tracing the narrow pass where the enemy would likely breach. "First, we will form smaller units—squads of ten men, each with a trusted leader. Each squad will be responsible for a specific section of the pass. We will train them in formations that are simple, effective, and designed for defense. We won't overwhelm them with complexity. We need them to trust each other, not their individual skills."

Helene nodded, clearly absorbing the plan. "Divide and conquer. Let each squad focus on its responsibility and fight with the strength of numbers."

"Exactly," Adrian replied. "And each squad will be trained to recognize the signals of retreat. The terrain around the pass is treacherous. We can use that to our advantage. If we hold the pass long enough, we can force Ronsweiler's army into a bottleneck, where their numbers will be their greatest disadvantage."

The officers sat in silence for a long moment, the weight of Adrian's words settling in. The older officer, the one with the graying hair, spoke again, his voice quieter this time. "You plan to fight them in their own land. You would force them into our trap, make them come to us, rather than chase them into open ground?"

"That's the only way we stand a chance," Adrian said. "We can't afford to give them the advantage of open ground. Not with the forces we have. But if we fight them on our terms, in the pass, with the terrain at our backs, we can create an advantage."

The officers were still for a moment longer, the air thick with the weight of his plan. Then, the bearded officer, the one who had been so skeptical at the beginning, gave a curt nod. "Very well, my lord. We will begin preparations."

Adrian exhaled slowly, feeling a flicker of hope—a small spark that, in the chaos of war, was often the only thing that kept men moving forward. He could see the hesitation in their eyes, but there was something else too: a glimmer of belief. They were starting to trust him.

"We have no time to waste," Adrian said firmly. "We train until we drop. And when Ronsweiler comes, we will be ready."

As the officers rose to leave, Adrian remained at the table, his gaze fixed on the map. He had no illusions—this would be a battle unlike any he had faced before. The stakes were higher, the consequences more personal. But he had one thing Ronsweiler didn't: the will to fight. And that, he hoped, would be enough to save them all.