Jonas was seated on a large cushioned chair made of the highest quality wood this side of the world. It was an item that Frezar seemed to pack with them every time they traveled. Why he hadn’t been sitting on it every time since he left the city of his father’s duchy, he had no clue.

It was by far the most comfortable chair in existence, or so Jonas believed. So much so, he had a hard time focusing on the conversation around him. Of course, that coupled with staring at his own reflection of a large glossed silver metal shield made it quite the simple task to zone out the important discussion around him.

How could he look away when the last time he had seen himself, he had normal hair, eyes, skin color, and well...everything?

His hair of flames danced happily on his head, reminiscent of the spirits he met within that odd world of fire. It played without concern to the troubles that surrounded it, or the consequences that arose from its actions. It could burn down this entire walled-village and no look once.

It was pure and utterly innocent. So much so, Jonas always felt protective of its existence. Some deep paternal instinct or the sort drove him that way.

Jonas flinched. As flash of light interrupted his musing. He rose his hands trying to cover the beam of light that reached into his eyes even though he knew full well he could look at it directly without issue. It was just instinct built into him.

Strong light meant covering eyes. Simple and easy to understand.

Raneria laughed.

Jonas looked at her with a scowl. He still hadn’t had that meaningful conversation with her about Gregor. The damn orc needed to learn that he was Jonas’s honor guard not her comforter. She hogged the big guy every day most of the day.

He couldn’t even get a few moments to learn from the monster of a man. Then again, Gregor and all of his honor guard would probably reject any attempt at teaching him now so more than before. Especially with the elephant in the room constantly fluttering around without care.

Joans couldn’t deny that he looked absolutely awesome. But that awesomeness came at an expense.

That remined him.

“Raneria, can you explain why you are so confident you didn’t give away my location and any information on me again? I seemed to have missed it.” He stared into her eyes knowing full well that she would look away after a few seconds.

None of them seemed capable to directly stare at him. Something about pressure or aura. Meaningless words to him, honestly. They said the same thing during the meeting with the bandits, yet he felt nothing while everyone else stared to act like mountains fell on their shoulders.

… are they trying to make him look good? He hoped not, he didn’t need his ego puffed up so much. It was a recipe for utter disaster.

Then again, the three bandit leaders hovered around him with worship and a great bit of fear in their eyes. They all had sworn absolute and undying loyalty to him and only him. Ash somehow got to kowtow when he first saw them with a twitch of her eyes.

The lady was an absolute monster. How she got three dominant and strong-willed men to be so afraid of her very existence was beyond him, but what ever it was, it greatly benefited him.

So… good job? Maybe?

He just didn’t want to know her methods, that was a secret she could keep to herself.

Raneria coughed into her hands to get Jonas’s attention. “It’s obvious.” She shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes at the same time. A feat that had him impressed. “I know the idiot who is leading the attack.”

“What?” Everyone in the room exclaimed at once.

Joans had to rub the bridge of his nose. “You know him? As in the general of the hundred thousand plus orcs charging towards our location now.”

“General!” Raneria laughed. “You called him a general!” She held her stomach as she struggled to breathe from laughter. It took her a good minute before calming down enough to speak sensibly.

“He isn’t a general. A dounce,” she looked at Gregor with wide eyes and a need for confirmation. He nodded with a frown. “Yep that’s the word! A dounce! Idiot! Stupid, self-centered, bastard, fat, rocks for brains-” She began counting his long list of characteristics.

“Stop. It obvious you don’t like him.” Jonas said.

He got an enthusiastic nod from her.

“So...why didn’t you tell us he was coming with a massive army?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t ask.”

Joans sighed, as did most of his trusted people. “Spill the beans...err..tell us everything you know.” Spill the beans? Wonder what that meant?

“His name is Yurgul the Fist.”

Lank spat out the tea he had been gulping down like air. The man probably never had anything sweetened so he was hooked on the tea that was served. Loads of honey, just how he liked it...with milk of course.

“You said Yurgul The Great Fist of The West? Only general to ever breach a walled city in the past century?” Lank looked a bit worshipful. Like how people would treat idols and stars.

Stars? Idols? Joans shook his head, something about the holy one Tom Hanks or something of that nature.

“He got lucky, all he did was send everybody to one part of a wall. The gods must have blessed him with an even more incompetent opponent than him. Who in their right mind spreads his army across all of a wall in an equal distribution? Just makes common sense to put more people where the enemy is attack from, especially with the other half of the entire walls were covered by a large mountain. What’d he think, orcs would jump down a thousand meter sheer clif to get into the city?”

“She does have a point.” Ash chimed in. “I’ve thoroughly studied the battle and must agree with her assumption. The breach would have been impossible if the commanding officer had just put a few hundred more soldiers on that part of the wall. History would have remembered this as the greatest orcish failure otherwise.”

“So, what are you saying. He is just going to tell his men to charge...and that's it?” Jonas asked. He looked confused, even his flame hair slowed down to match his expression.

Raneria nodded. “He is an idiot.”

“But he is The Great Fist. An equalizer. Is probably the highest ranked person on the Path between our soon to battle groups. Of course, other than the supposed sleeping dragon, who I have yet to meet once and almost expect not to be real.”

Ioral shivered next to him. “Trust me. The monster is real.”

Raneria huffed. “Yea, brick for brains.”

Jonas stared at her. There was a story to this and he had to find out what it was. “You guys clearly have history. Care to share?”

“He is the son of the third clan and I the only daughter of the first clan.” she said like it was the only explanation she needed. And evidently it was for everyone except him in the room.

His hair gave him a way before he could give a single expression. Welp, there goes his tough guy act during negotiations.

Frezar whispered into his ear from his seat slightly behind Jonas. “She means they were meant to tie the knot.”

“Oh!” Jonas said in understanding. “Why not?” He winced just as it left his mouth. He knew it was insensitive, but some entitled part of him demanded to know.

Raneria bared her tusks and flexed her neck muscles. “Slavers, the lot of them. Dirty slavers of intelligent life. A crime of the highest order. If it was not for you humans entering our lands we would have been in war with each other with full intent to end their entire lineage. Eradicate every single soul between them regardless of who they were!”

The female orc had just turned scary blood-thirsty. It hit Jonas like a runaway wagon. He had not expected such pure, unadulterated hate to seeth out her in waves. Those raw emotions could not be faked or made up. This only proved more that she had nothing to do with the leak of information.

“Okay…” Jonas said to clear up the tension. His voice felt like a bomb going off. “Tactics. Yea, let's talk about how we survived this.”

“Oh it’s simple.” Ioral perked up. “Get the Sleeping Dragon to just wave them out of existence.”

“Err...” The expectation hurt to see. “He is out of commision for a while.”

Ioral looked devastated. “H-how long?”

Jonas shrugged.

The bandit sagged in his seat. He looked like death was inevitable. Joans just waved him away and turned towards the rest.

“Master, you’ve put us in quite the difficult position. Mage tactics are mostly out of the equation without a much larger wall. The forest is too far back to burn in a timely manner to eliminate them. Any bombardments would crush our walls within the first few days. They outnumber us almost ten to one..” Ash said with a sad smile.

“But, you’ll survive. We will stay here with the villagers and most of the army. Just take an entourage of five hundred of Tedder’s cavalry and three hundred of your loyal BlackGuard. We will keep them preoccupied as you rush to safety. As long as you make it out alive then we’ve done our-”

“Enough.” Jonas said. His voice reverberated within the closed room sounding more than human. The fire on his body began to take a life of its own as he narrowed his eyes. It crackled and snapped at the people around forcing frezar--who was closest to him--to scoot back with his chair before he was scorched.

He was beyond upset that they would suggest he would leave them. How could he live with himself if he knew his most loyal followers were killed while he ran with his tail between his legs? He could never swallow being a coward of this magnitude. It went against everything he was including the once had been foriegn memories.

“I will be going nowhere.” His words were final. Each one felt it with their oaths. It was a command beyond their ability to ever break.

Jonas smiled devilishly, his slightly red tinted skin color made him look like a demon. Of course the larger than normal canines had a lot to do with it as well. “Instead, I’ll be here to oversee quite the projects. Trenches, pitfalls, razor wires, and many more things.”

Fefar--who had been quiet until now--and the other two bandits shivered from across the room. They huddled together looking out of place with what amounted to rags on while they sat on seats more expensive than what they would have earned during their entire life. Something about how Jonas looked seemed to make the more instinctual parts of their brain cry out in distress.

“Get together and get me a larger map.” Jonas pointed to the small circular table in the center of the room. “One that goes at minimum ten kilometers. Our preparations will take long, but with the help of magic, we will get it done soon enough. To begin, the ranks must be addressed.”

Jonas looked at Ash with a meaningful gaze.

She knew what he meant. “Umm...well, we don’t have a ranking system per se’. Its more free flow-”

Jonas just raised his hand. It interrupted her and knew that was not what he wanted to hear. “So you don’t actually have a military hierarchy?”

Ash nodded with a deep frown. The others looked to be either in thought or showed confusion.

“Then its simple. We will follow a system of leadership--Gregor, how many men do we have all together. All the bandits and able bodied men included?”

Gregor perked up in attention. His military drilling taking precedence over the clingy orcish lady next to him. “We have roughly twenty four thousand men. Two thousand able bodied villagers, three thousand cavalry men with Sir Tedder,” he shot a look at the man who sat to the side trying not to be noticed. “Seventeen thousand bandits that are slowly trickling into the city and around the walled-village. And lastly our two thousand men; five hundred of the mercenaries and the rest of the BlackGuard.”

“Hmm...its good. Yes. Should be good.” Jonas kept his almost evil smile. “Not as bad as I had expected honestly. Ten to one, almost isnt that bad of odds.”

Frezar coughed behind him. “M-master? Are you ill? Only the heroes of the past could accomplish this. I-its almost impossible.”

Jonas laughed. “Let me guess. The tactics used were something like this. Charge, charge, charge, then hope someone strong enough kills enough of the enemy?”

“That’s oversimplifying it, my lord.” Ash tried.

“But the truth nevertheless. Our system will be this until further notice. Soldiers will be a part of a ten man group which will be named sections. Five platoons make fifty men. Six platoons make a company. Five companies make a battalion. Six battalions make an army. There will be two under a single Field marshall.”

He pointed towards Ash who almost jumped out of her seat in response.

“Field Marshall Ash will be leading us and under her will be two generals-”

“My liege!” Ash said in an outburst. “It's not proper for a woman to hold a position so high in public. I may have lead armies in the past, but never had it been made known so clearly.”

“I must agree! The battlefield is no place for a woman-” Tedder added in a huff. But seemed to shrivel with a withering look from Jonas. Of course, the snapping fire had a bit to do with it as well.

“Any other wish to challenge my word of law?” The fire around Jonas started to irregularly change size and snapp a lot more aggressively. “Does anyone else want to add their two cents to this one-sided command?”

All he got in response was dead silence.

“Good.” He looked down his chin as he surveyed the group before him. He was not about to allow the backward social positions to mess with this battle. He would be guaranteeing defeat if he didn’t put the best at the places they deserve to be. There was no room for failure. Nor was their a chance he would allow it because of such a stupid reason. “Field Marshall Ash will be at the head of two armies lead by two generals. Gregor, rise.”

The large man gasped. His rumbling voice did little to help him. “M-me? I-I-”

Jonas waved him silent. “You nothing. Fefar, rise!”

The thin man jumped to his feet so fast, Jonas’s wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled a muscle trying to get up so quick. Unlike the other two, he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut lest he was told he wasn’t right for it anymore.

“The two of you are the most experienced between the others. Fefar especially, it takes skill to lead the largest and most powerful bandit group in such a hostile stretch of land. Your accomplishments have not been overlooked.”

Fefar couldn’t stop the enormous, stupid grin on his face. He looked back at his brothers who had supportive smiles of their own.

“Each will lead eleven thousand and five hundred men each. None other than Ms. Field Marshall and I stand above you now. Under the two of you will be two lieutenant Generals. For Gregor, they will be...Tedder and Raneria.”

He would be damned if he didn’t use Raneria’s hate for what she labeled as the third clan to his advantage. Over and over again she had proved how capable she was with tactics and her greater than normal perception for anything dealing with battle. Tedder was also a talent he made sure to use to its fullest potential. The guy couldn’t have been older than thirty but held a high status already with the previous Walled-city they had been in.

“As for under Fefar, well you know better who could fill such important positions. Who would you nominate as your next in command?” Joans had wanted quite a few others to fill those two positions which include Ioral, Shab, maybe even Frezar if he accepted. In the end he couldn’t fully decide who would be best to place under such an unorthodox leader of men.

“I-I choose?” Fefar whispered, but quickly spoke when he saw Joans’s raised eyebrow. “Lank and Ioral! They have lived in the wild plains and forests with their own bandit groups. They are second to none in our style of battle.”

Jonas looked at the two. “Congratulations. Now, since we don’t have enough to fill the numbers perfectly, one of the two lieutenant generals will only hold four thousand men instead of the seven thousand and five hundred that are needed. But that’s okay.”

Seeing their confused expression, he smile grew bigger. He looked into Raneria’s eyes--she had been oddly quiet--and wouldn’t break his contact. He never noticed how green her eyes were, but that was not important now. “I’ll explain.”