Standing atop the walls of the fort, looking out at the sea, stands Commander Vernon who smiles at the beautiful sight of waves crashing at the banks, looking to where he knows of Verencia to be, seagulls horning as they play with one another, and within the fort, the soldiers and adventures alike having a jolly time, with Nahshon sitting with uneasiness in his character, one of his legs jolting up and down, his hand swiping against his lips every few minutes that pass, one understanding soldier coming up to him, giving to the boy a bottle of water.

"Relax, son. You're thinking too much. All we're mostly fighting are goblins! You've fought worse, haven't ya?" The soldier smiles, with by the supplies is Ezek inspecting some of the firearms in its midst of other supplies, while over on the other side is Nora joined along with other priestesses that Bjørn shows off his skill of swordsmanship with his wittiness, the ladies very entertained but Nora cringing at his every word.

"Hmm..." Vernon smiles, looking over to Arwyn and the others also in their own circle, pleased as he even sees the Jacqawin taking part in their discussion, then back to the sea, as from the pocket of his black coat he pulls a collection of big cigars, slipping one that he swipes on his mouth, lighting with the breeze on his slickback hair, seeing as Vice commander Gunnar comes forwards, grinning.

"It's been a while since I've seen you take a smoke, Vernon. I guess this has gotten you fired up, eh?" Gunnar laughs.

"I'm enjoying the scenery, Gunnar. A beautiful scene as this one yet they choose to spoil its image," Vernon puffs his cigar. "They would watch as the captive walk this harbour, afraid and defiled..."

"A terrible thing, yes. But we're here now, Vernon. And if I'll we're going to be fighting are mostly savages, wild beast, and broken men and women...then we won't be having any trouble" Gunnar assures him, drinking a cup of beer to his words.

"I wouldn't count on it...because though he's a traitor scum, he was still once a formidable commander. A commander who caused his majesty a whole platoon of trouble. And that lady leader seems capable in her own rights too. So, I wouldn't be surprised if they had more up their sleeves...they made a great number of sacrifices, after all. The sacrifice of the innocent in exchange for more power"

"Aye, perhaps we should not forget about that, eh?"

"Hmm...but I wonder. After all these years, with his defeat in the war, and the death of his son...am I now fighting the same man, or am I fighting a ghost? Well, Elvis...what is it?" Vernon questions, the ashes of his cigar taken by the wind, hiding himself very well, but certainly angry within.

***

Having recently captured back their stronghold from the Verencians, the three men that had led the recovery get into a circle as they srt to brainstorm, the goblins more alert, knowing that the enemy is now at front, their hands wrapped around their weapons only waiting for them to return. And by the phone, one of the men goes to, a relic of the 1920s, the leader dials an input, looking up to the radio tower still intact.

"Get me a line with Commander Elvis, it's important," The man tells them, and so he waits, finally hearing as one picks up. "Commander! We've pushed back the enemies and have retained the stronghold! It's been three or so hours and we have not seen any form of their advancing since the last"

For seconds he waits, complete silence over the call, only listening to the tinkering of the connection between the lines in suspense, licking his lips as he wonders if the commander is even at the line, blowing down at the impatience of it all.

"S-Sir?" He calls out.

"Shut up! I'm thinking!" Elvis growls into the phone, as over on his side, he sits in his chair, alone in his office, two men outside his door, a glass of whiskey on his table, his finger tapping at his balding head as he ponders, what is it my old enemy thinking, he sounds in his head, revisiting past battles he had with Vernon in the great depression, even recalling his strategies before that, his foot drumming against the floor, as all of a sudden his thoughts shift to Sierra, blaming her for all of what is happening, the day he was hurled by her magic a memory sticked to his mind every waking day, condemning her for the faltering of the union between their factions, but back on the main topic at hand he gets, finally making up his mind. "Destroy it..."

"Huh?? What are you saying, sir??" The man questions the commander, startled at his command.

"Did I stutter, boy?! Destroy the bloody fort, and all the small outposts after it!" Elvis commands, knowing that Vernon had carried an army larger than his, and full of soldiers that will need cover and rest, understanding that they will need to keep whatever forts they capture as checkpoints on the island as their foot-in, wanting to give him none of that, as he also bets on the terrain and wild beast not captured to do their work on their morale. "After you've destroyed them. Regroup at the central fort and strengthen it with your troops. That is where this battle will conclude. We will end them right there...once and for all"

"Yes, Commander," The captain says, their call ending with his new order he quickly rounds up his troops to get to it, as down goes the fort, destroyed with explosions they, making sure to leave nothing behind, then onto the small forts ahead, one by one, engulfing them in flames, taking up whatever supplies they can and destroying whatever they have to leave, finally making their way to the central fort, the captain sighing as he knows this to be the final frontier as just up ahead lies the black walls of the main headquarters that sit above the hill he sees through his binoculars.

"Aghh!! Don't get too comfortable!" Another man comes, clearly upset by this situation, the captain recognizes him as the head of this fort like he was to the one he destroyed. "I hope you all have brought your supplies. Food has been scarce these days...and I haven't fucked in weeks..."

"Don't worry, we've picked up enough for ourselves. We should have enough," The captain tells him.

"Agh! I hope that darn old man knows what he's doing. I'm pretty he's sure up there eating medium-rare steak with his cock sucked on by some beauty, while we men are down here eating scraps with the fucking savages. Look at them...nasty bastards," The leader shakes his head, spitting over the wall.

"I hope he knows what he's doing too, because of all the commanders we had to face, it had to be the bloody old wolf," The man hisses, a huge sigh let out as he can't help but be a little intimidated, knowing the reputation of the commander of Strongcastle.

Hours go by, no sign of the invaders, their presence like a ghostly horror on their land like a curse, not knowing where and when it may strike, but always feeling the sense of doom around them, as comes the dusk, the sky grayed out, the land gone quieter, the fortress gone dull. Their morale sunken, no laughter, their fear on their sleeves, the goblins line up with bowls in their hands, their stomachs growling of ache, their mouth wet with drool as poured is some soup they are served for their evening supper, a lot of them unsatisfied as it is only one serving they are allowed, these bowls barely having anything else but liquid in them, some making sure to savour it as much as possible, wanting to remember as much of its taste after its finished, a fight even breaking out between two of these savage, one of their bowl spilt by the other, screaming and scratching away at each other in frustration.

"Hey! Knock it off before I send the both of ya on the outside for the beasts to deal with you!!" The leader shouts, stopping from taking a sip of his soup, looking over to another goblin squatting just in the corner before him, ready to relieve itself. "Oi! What the fuck! Find someplace private for fuck sake!! By the gods..."

And comes nightfall, the fortress lit up by mostly fires the goblins curdle up around. A cold night is, the men having their blankets, leaving the savages to have to fight for a space in getting warm, some of them having their growls returned, their stomachs demanding a meal, wanting to be properly satisfied. Looking around at the men, in a far corner with their backs turned, one decides to risk it all. It taps a few of his friends, speaking in their native tongue, it points to a particular place, its friends also then turning to see the men not paying attention, agreeing to what is planned. Sneakily they make their way through the fort, making sure to not have the others of their kin interested in what they're doing, reaching the particular place with quickly stepping in. On their faces form grins of pure bliss, as before them lie crates of food in the dim light of a lantern their stomachs call for, hence they begin to feast, their scrawny hands looting the crates of biscuits and dry bread they stick into their faces, taking no time to savour it, licking their lips and cleaning their teeth of any bits stuck between them. And frozen they become, startled, one even choking on bread, as they see that they've been caught. But not by one of the men, relieved as out from the shadowy corners, comes a little critter that looks up at them, a lost fox, one of the goblins grown more excited, as out his side comes a knife as it steps forward, giggling to itself, that smirk turned to a sour-looking, hearing the sound thudding, looking behind to see its peers dropped to the floor, bleeding corpse.

It steps, its voice lost, perplexed, still feeling too weak from its stomach, as behind it appears a silhouette the fox gazes to, the goblin's mouth grabbed before it could screech with whatever strength it had left, feeling as another hand grasps its throat, its gripped tightened on it trachea, tears of being stifled out its eyes as the squeeze on its throat grows stronger and stronger, and its resistance weaker by the second, cracked like a stick its neck is busted, and standing over it, in armour of darkness, helm of a beast, stands the Jacqawin that turns to the fox, watching as it transforms into a woman who nods at the warrior as comes out a few others as well, one of the casting a ball of fire in their hand. The whole fort becomes alerted, as one by one, passing under their noses is the smell of flesh burning, the men quickly getting up to see that where they keep their supplies has been set on fire, blazing about, that fire quickly spreading over to other parts of the forts that they quickly respond to.

"Get water...get water!!!" The leader shouts, as he puts out what he can with frost magic, the goblin taking from the water supply, buckets of water they use to put out the flames, some of the savage suffering the taste of being caught on fire, wooden parts of the fortress collapsing onto some of them.

A long night, but they were able to put out the fire, doing their investigation, seeing the burnt body of the goblin they figured to have been trying to steal food, concluding that they must have gotten into a fight which dropped the lantern that caused the fire. And comes the break of dawn, the sun at the horizon, but dark clouds nearing, the leader looking up them, a sign he sees, the blessings of the gods not in their favour, only now the feeling of regret hits him, his stomach growling to his hunger with all their food, wishing he had stayed in the quiet countrysides of his homeland, no longer wanting glory, but only the remembrance of cow's milk, seeing it was not boring life, after all. Then it begins, drip by drip, comes the rain, its droplets at his skin as he sits atop the wall, now looking out to the distance. And comes to an end his daydreaming, as lined across the hills, beyond the cover of rain, he sees the mighty Verencian army marching up the land. His eyes do not trick him, he wishes, his lips tied, but quickly he frees them.

"Prepare your arrows! They've come!! Prepare your arrows!! Move, soldiers!!" He declares, the other men coming up to the wall to see an even stronger march than the one before, baffled by the discipline and power of their army, seeing the march of soldiers they've heavily underestimated, their aura of men and women just wanting to slaughter and enjoy the screams of their enemies, the captain of the previous fort atop the wall with his jaw dropped, his hands shaking, realizing they had made a mistake.

"We fell into their trap..." He mutters.

"What??" The leader questions, already stressed.

"They never intended to capture the last fortress. We made a mistake. They wanted to easily pass through without wasting a lot of their resources, so they had us destroy the fort and all the outposts beyond it," He realizes, a feeling of contempt built, bashing Elvis in his heart as he knew not to listen to him, as he then remembers one small detail, as when they recaptured the fort, he had looked upon the antenna still intact. "W-We are going to die...! So this is the gray wolf...I'm afraid we've picked a fight with the wrong people"

He chuckles to himself, remembering before all of this, he ran a small business of being a loan shark. Now he too wishes upon returning to a simpler time. Shot pass his head, speeding a canon that lands in a group of goblins, the man not even moving, shaken by his fate, then looking towards the goblins becoming the very same way, but he senses something different, a divine fear, looking into the army, a silhouette of his cape flowing through the rain, his hand on his greatsword, he sees a dark knight, the goblins jumped into a frenzy, losing control of themselves more than they were, the captain also sensing the presence of something like a great darkness.

"Stay sharp! Don't be afraid! He is just a man!! He is just a man!!!" The leader yells, also sensing his aura, watching as zipline mount the walls with the Jacqawin being one of the first to come in contact with them, the tanks blowing a hole through another part of the wall, the Verencians quickly surging into the fortress, tearing away the savages' flesh, the Jacqawin's mighty sword cleaving about five of them for each swing he takes.

"A piece of cake, soldiers!!" A captain of Verencia says. "We will take the eastern areas of the stronghold and meet in the middle, Make sure these pigs are screaming as loudly as possible! Make them suffer for a while on purpose if you have to!"

In this unit, they march into the eastern hemisphere of the fortress, strides the chimaera slayers, Ezek smirking as he excites over getting his kills, gun on his shoulders as they march down into the defence, and Nahshon, dry swallowing as he grows ever nervous, but out he pulls his sword regardless, wanting to fight, knowing he must fight, ridding away the fear that holds him back, taking a deep breath, as comes a goblin towards him he slashes, its neck cut open by his blistering speed, his eyes like a tiger, fierce and powerful.