The lookouts who saw the enemy soldiers retreating sent word to Commander Alpen. As the sun filtered through the trees, illuminating the weary earth of the battlefield, a young man, covered in dust and breathing heavily, hurried to Alpen's side. After a sharp salute, he stepped forward.
"Commander," he said, out of breath, "the enemy forces are retreating in disorder. They've likely suffered about fifty casualties, and the rest have taken refuge in the forest. On our side, we have seven dead and thirteen wounded. However, our positions remain intact. A third of our arrows have been used, but there's no shortage of spears or swords. Reinforcements of wood for the trenches are also being prepared."
The young man hesitated. Though Alpen's eyes were slightly narrowed and he remained silent, he knew the commander was listening carefully. The silence felt like the calm before the storm. After carefully absorbing the information, Alpen turned his gaze to the horizon. The deep lines on his forehead grew more pronounced. He nodded slightly and began to speak.
"I expected this attack. Alphamos' new emperor doesn't have his father's patience. The moment he took the throne, he wanted to show his strength. Especially by crushing a small but stubborn settlement like ours to send a warning… that's exactly his style. That's why we've been strengthening our defenses for weeks. Digging trenches, increasing night drills, stocking up on ammunition,it wasn't for nothing. This attack was the first step of an arrogant youth."
He paused for a moment, then turned his eyes back to the young soldier.
"They retreated because they thought we were weak, but they found an organized, determined defense instead. Most likely, they will regroup in the forest and wait for reinforcements. Or they might be planning this retreat as the start of a bigger assault."
Alpen straightened slightly and touched the young soldier's shoulder.
"Send out lookouts immediately. I want to know if they're setting up a camp deep in the forest. Also, review our ammunition supplies again and assign more men to repair the trenches. We must be ready for a night raid. If the enemy is impatient, they're looking for an opportunity. We won't make a mistake. Send a letter to the palace to inform them that we are under attack."
His voice was unwavering, and his gaze was determined.
"This old wolf will remind everyone once again that war is won not just with weapons, but with intelligence and patience!"
Meanwhile, Neva and his surviving soldiers had set up camp behind a massive moss-covered rock. They hadn't dared to light a fire; every crackle among the trees could signal a trap. Neva leaned against the trunk of a tree, feeling the cloth wrapped around his left shoulder grow heavy with blood. His face was smeared with sweat, dust, and dried blood, but his eyes were still alive,still full of anger.
He flinched at the sound of a burning leaf but it was just one of the soldiers beside him tossing a broken branch aside. Neva closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Defeat... that word echoed in his mind, shredding his pride to pieces.
He had thought Asmanda was just a town of old men and shepherds; instead, he faced a defense almost like a fortress, led by a determined commander: Alpen.
A young soldier who had crept up beside him whispered to Neva.
"Commander... shall we wrap your shoulder again?"
Neva opened his eyes and replied in a low but firm voice.
"No! The warmth of the pain reminds me that I'm still alive."
He paused for a moment and turned his gaze deep into the forest.
"We rest here tonight. When we regroup, we will move forward with our anger."
Neva stared carefully at the messenger kneeling before him. His face was still marked with streaks of soot and blood from the battle, but his eyes were determined.
"No need for a letter. You'll deliver my message. Memorize it word for word, don't leave out a single word."
"I'm listening, Commander."
Neva furrowed his brows and spoke deliberately, weighing his words.
"Tell Caesar: We have opened a wound in Asmanda, but we have no intention of letting it heal. That town will soon be ours. Every wall made of wood, no matter how strong the iron, will have its inhabitants sleeping in fear. This is just the beginning."
The messenger nodded, a brief flicker of hesitation flashing in his eyes. Neva noticed it but continued without softening his tone.
"And add… I am still here. Let him hear for himself that I have not fallen."
The young man snapped to attention, saluted, and quickly withdrew. Neva stayed in place, watching the messenger disappear among the trees. Then he fixed his gaze on the horizon. The wind filled with the scent of ash and pine.
It took the messenger a full week to reach the capital, but he finally arrived, crossing into Alphamos territory and entering the heart of the empire. Alphamos was the only land untouched by the cold northern winds. This ancient civilization, perched atop mountain peaks, was a fortress of stone stability and a tradition sealed with blood. On maps, it appeared vast, but on the ground, it was even more ruthless. Its towers rose like black stones piercing the sky, and the palace walls were surrounded by lion reliefs and massive sword carvings.
This was the center of a reign said to have never been defeated. The imperial palace was built from black marble; colossal columns veined with dark blue stones stretched toward the heavens, and the gates gleamed with a rusty red, as if washed in blood. Every wall was etched with stories of torture, battles, and executions for betrayal.
Inside the palace, it was not only cold that ruled; there was fear too.
At the heart of this cold shrine, before the massive doors of the great throne room, stood a soldier clad in blue armor. The steel symbol of Alphamos shone on his chest: a double-headed lion. The soldier gave a sharp salute to the sword-wielding guards standing on either side of the door. The guards returned the salute and slowly opened the doors. What spread inside was not heavy warmth, but a deeper gloom.