Shabar stared at the massive work that had been completed just a few days ago. No matter how much he looked and tried to find how one could possibly think of such measures, it still didn't make any sense. It was a work of art made from scraps of metal and shovels. Nothing more nothing less.

His liege, a once dandy he thought little of suddenly showed a creative ability for war matching the greatest Mercenary Kings of this era. All it took was for him to go through the weirdest entrance onto the path he had ever experienced.

The trenches were not very deep, just enough to hide a tall man. Yet they were covered with mounds of dirt and stone. What appears from the outside to be a hastily built fortification just to the chest was suddenly an entire world difficult to aim at with bows and arrows, and even harder for large scale magic. Flame explosions would blow up around them but the fire and destructive force would just fly overhead with no effect.

But that wasn’t all. Scrap metal was turned into very tiny and thorned wire spread out for large stretches of land. Just the thought of an army, men shoulder to shoulder trying to push through these high and deadly obstacles made Shahar shiver. It would be a gruesome sight to behold once it actually happened.

That was not mentioning the new gear they were given, nothing but buckets of arrows, longbows, crossbows, ballistas, and long spears. The sheer quantity was beyond his imagination. It was enough to dress an army twenty folds larger than what they had now.

And all it took was a wave of the hand by his liege.

Wrapped in flames, a red tunic, red pants, and a black cape. The young man stuck a striking pose as he kept that sinister smile on his face. His eyes flashed constantly in a golden light every time his eyes crossed by the three levels of defence.

How it was possible to hold such a massive amount of weapons was almost beyond him.

The only answer he could get from Jonas was a mysterious smile and a cryptic answer of ‘Pirates love their Sharps’. Whatever that was supposed to mean.

“Ash,” Jonas said, tilting his head, never looking away from the trenches. “Don't put an unbreakable defence on the first layer of trenches. We want them to think they could pass through without much issue. Once they are stuck between the barbed wires...well, let us show them to never underestimate us.”

Ash lowered her head in deference. “Yes, Master.”

Shabar could literally feel the veneration and awe Field Marshall Ash had for Jonas. It went even beyond anything he had seen even from the others of the Young King’s entourage. A group filled with legends on top of legends for some of the most renowned stories.

Whether they be dragon-slayers, world-shakers, or generals of the largest battles committed by the Empire. From the Laughing Devil all the way to the Sleeping Dragon.

“Also, don’t forget to remind me to investigate how the Orcs knew I was here and more importantly, why they weren't harried even once during their entire trek this deep into our lands. A reform must take place in these lands of mine. I cannot, and will not, stand for such injustice, and far more criminal, incompetence to exist so close to me and the people I will rule over.”

Shabar shivered again. A flame danced for a second at the edges of Jonas’s eyes. That cruel glint brought an unnatural, primal fear he had never experienced before.

As the leader of The Hardened Shield, he had seen men far greater and more powerful than himself on the other side of the battlefield, but never once did he fold into himself like this.

Much less knowing that his master was a merciful man who would not throw their lives to waste even though he had the power to do so with nothing but a thought.

His master balled his fist and gritted his teeth. The flames around him roared as it grew in size forcing himself and everyone else to take a few steps back from the sudden spike of heat. Shabar would never even think to betray him and neither would anyone else if they had seen what he saw.

A man who was not even a full week into the Path should not have enough strength to challenge far more experienced men and women.

“Do you think the Guerrilla Troops have encountered the Orcs yet? I am anxious to get a detailed report as soon as possible.” Jonas bit his lip.

Shabar could not put any semblance of strict personality on the man before him. There were times when non could possibly be more benevolent and merciful than him. A man willing to spend enough gold to run a kingdom, only to feed a destitute walled-village in the middle of nowhere. Or the fact Jonas even gave him the choice to serve or otherwise was enough.

They were only five-hundred men strong, what good was that for an empire millions strong. In the wars of the Archilego, maybe they had more worth, but he was not sure what good they would be in a battle counting in the hundred thousands of both sides.

Then on the other hand, Shabar could see that light of a man who had seen death in his hands. A dangerous and dark glint in the eyes on the most exercised killers carried. It flashed every now and then, but it was enough to bring fear to the depths of his heart. When life was so worthless to a man, than what could possibly be worth his eyes any longer?

It was a conundrum, Shabar could never break apart.

It was almost like there were two different personalities in a single person. A duality of distinct and polar opposite characters stuck in the same body.

...but, that's not possible. Right?