Pel Mahavir was a sight to behold. Before the discovery of the Cavernport on the western coast, this spot had been the main contender for the ducal seat of Harvand. With its back against the sheer drop of the Rift, its roads were arranged in a star pattern, all leading to the central square, the baronial palace, and the entrance to the bridge. As the army camped outside the walls, Edwin and Bordan accompanied the rest of the division leadership into the city to meet with the baron. First banner led the procession, all gleaming armor and proudly held standards, while the rest were basically the same people who had been in the meeting room before the departure, including all the mages.

Edwin had been shocked by their reception at first, as people were lining the streets and cheering, some even throwing flowers at the soldiers in the lead. When he mentioned his surprise to Bordan the former soldier grunted.

“Their sons and fathers have been out at the front for months, fighting against ever-increasing numbers. Now we arrive with thousands of men, on our way to reinforce them. Of course they love us.”

The baronial palace was built right next to the edge of the cliffs and looked almost as grand as the ducal palace in the capital. Baron Epherell awaited them on the central square, saying a few words in greeting and something about the war, but it was a short ceremony, and they were quickly ushered inside. They weren’t here to shake hands and wave to the crowd, after all. Pel Mahavir was on the way, so they stopped here for the night to take on supplies and receive the latest news from the front, nothing more. They were led into a large war room, which the floor of which was dominated by a massive wooden relief carving of the Wastelands.

“I’m truly glad you are here,” the Baron said after the usual pleasantries. “The situation at the front has continued to get worse since your departure. I’m afraid that without your intervention, 1st division will find itself in an untenable position before long.”

In anticipation of their arrival, a few officers from the nearby fort had traveled to the city as well. They were led by a major, and while Edwin had no clue what his actual position was, he was apparently in charge of the fort, the direction of supplies to the front, and the training of additional recruits while everyone else was out fighting. He stepped up to the relief, one of his aides mirroring him on a map on the wall for those not important enough to get a spot in the first row.

“We,” the major began in a grave voice, “are here.”

He was pointing an ornately carved stick at the very northeastern corner of the relief. Even a child could have identified the most distinct-looking city in the three duchies, but Edwin supposed it was better to have too much information than too little. The major walked around to the opposite side and continued.

“The state of the war is as follows: 3rd division was making headway east of Mount Signal when the Marradi Gilt division was reinforced by one of the newly formed ones, which we have since identified as Tressel division. Facing superior numbers, 3rd division fought a methodical retreat to the fortifications of the Gateway, where they await the arrival of the 4th, which is still in transit.”

The major shifted toward the center of the carving, pointing with his pointing stick.

“This is the river Rell, which marks the border between 3rd and 2nd divisions’ areas of responsibility. 2nd division is currently only facing off against Denneph division, but with the 3rd withdrawn as far as they are, the 2nd needs to be mindful of their positioning to prevent being flanked from the west. Additionally, the enemy cavalry cohorts are freely crossing the Rell, using their superior mobility to reinforce their allies on both sides of the river faster than our scouts can give warning. As a result, 2nd division is forced into a defensive position as well, which leaves them unable to move far from Dead Man’s Saddle until 4th division arrives.”

The major moved again, this time back to the side he had started on.

“Finally, the area of responsibility of our own 1st division includes everything between lake Latimer to the west and the Rift to the east. We were the first one forced into the defensive, as we were facing off against both Lorre and Ulyx divisions. General Ossick made the decision to divide his troops, keeping most at Giant’s Head but reinforcing Archibald’s Overlook in the east with the sixth and seventh battalions that we formed from the recent draftees. Pressure on the main force reduced drastically in what we now understand to be a trap meant to draw General Ossick southward and out of position.

“Thankfully he refrained from chasing the retreating enemies, which meant that he was still at Giant’s Head when the main forces of both enemy divisions reappeared at Archibald’s Overlook and tried to force a quick breakthrough. With the newly recruited battalions to support them, the fortification’s defenders held long enough for the general’s main force to cross the Aste north of Lake Trenn and arrive in time to repel the enemy’s attempt at piercing our defenses. Since then, the enemy has dug in and begun to siege our position. This concludes my briefing.”

Nervous murmurs arose among the mages, but the soldiers stayed quiet. After a few seconds, General Asher walked around the relief, the major wordlessly offering him the pointing stick of pointiness.

“Thoughts?” Asher said quietly, looking among his gathered officers.

“Do we need to reinforce the 1st?” one of the battalion commanders asked. “How long can they hold under the current circumstances?”

“First of all, the fortifications are already holding more soldiers than they were intended for,” the major answered. “Adding more men would only be useful after a breakthrough occured. As to how long we can hold… While I hesitate to use the word ‘indefinitely’, Archibald’s Overlook is one of our most fortified positions in the entire Wasteland. As long as our northern supply line remains open, with our 7000 against the enemy’s 8000 there is no real danger of them breaking through in any reasonable amount of time – at least, that would have been our assessment a few weeks ago. I am currently unable to quantify the impact magic will have on the siege. As I have been told, siege spells are among the most common ones that we expect to see, so I can only guarantee the security of our position for the next few weeks. After that, we will know more.”

“What does the terrain south of Archibald’s Overlook look like?” another officer asked. “What avenues of approach are there?”

“The area is enclosed by the Rift in the east and lake Trenn as well as the river Aste in the west. There is only a single way for a large force to cross the river: The bridge at Archer Hill in the south.”

“How strong are the enemy fortifications there?”

“Quite strong,” the major answered, “but only toward the north. Archer Hill was built to defend against us crossing the river from the north, while its geography makes it weak against attacks from the west and south.”

“Very well,” Asher said, tapping pointy sticky against his leg. “Karmund, have your staff draw up options for our deployment. You have twenty-four hours.”

“Yes, General,” the Chief of Staff answered with a salute, then hurried out of the room, followed by some of the officers. The battalion commanders remained behind, studying the relief and speaking in hushed voices. Karmund’s departure seemed to have been some kind of signal, as the baron turned to Lord Theodor.

“If your deliberations are finished, it would be my pleasure to host you and your men for the evening. My kitchen staff struggles under the shortages as we all do, but they were determined to provide you with one last good meal before you head into the wilderness and will be unable to enjoy the comforts of civilization.”

“We would be honored, Baron Epherell.” Theodor answered with a smile and let himself be led out of the room. Asher followed, leading the gathered officers.

“Wait, what just happened?” Edwin whispered to Bordan. “Nobody actually decided anything. What’s the plan?”

“This was just to get everyone the latest information, as well as to give the officers a look at what the terrain looks like,” Bordan said quietly as they followed the soldiers. “The division staff will develop several different options, of which the general will choose one. I’d be very surprised if it was anything but a flanking maneuver through Archer Hill though.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s what makes the most sense. Did you notice how people kept asking questions about how to get around the enemy divisions, and what the defenses at the bridge are like? The best way to break the siege at Archibald’s is to attack the enemy from the rear. If we actually make it all the way south to Archer Hill, we control their supply line. Then we have the options to either sit there and wait until they starve, or march further north and attack the enemy’s rear, acting as a hammer for 1st division’s anvil.”

“How do you know all that?” Edwin asked, more than a little awed by Bordan’s insight. “Nobody said any of that!”

“Once you understand tactics, it’s obvious,” a voice sounded from beside Edwin. He turned, looking at a smiling Major Gerrack. “We were all thinking the same thing. If we manage to trap two enemy divisions like that, this alone could end the war. It’s too good to pass up.”

“But why didn’t the general say that we’re doing that, then?” Edwin asked. He paused, frowning. “Also, if it’s obvious, shouldn’t the enemy be expecting it as well?”

“Usually, you would be correct,” Gerrack said, nodding. “However, we might have the element of surprise on our side. They are expecting the three divisions that they know about, not us. The news that we are on our way south might not reach them in time to break off their siege, so if we hurry, as we have ever since we departed, we might catch them before they realize how precarious their position is.”

Edwin scratched his chin. “Ending the war in one strike, huh? That sounds a lot better than I feared.”

“Don’t count your chickens quite yet,” Bordan snorted. “We haven’t even arrived at the front, there’s no point dreaming about us heroically winning the war until it’s an actual possibility.”

“I suppose,” Edwin answered wistfully. They had followed the others through the palace’s labyrinthine hallways, but now they were entering a grand hall. It had to be the ballroom, Edwin assumed, several stories high with hanging chandeliers and floor-to-ceiling windows that currently only showed the approaching night’s darkness. Long tables were set with food and drink, and the smells made Edwin’s sensitive nose itch and his mouth water.

“Now this is a nice break from the marching!” Edwin said, elbowing Bordan. “Leodin and Salissa are going to regret that they didn’t come along when they hear that the briefing came with a feast!”

The former soldier grunted in annoyance, but Edwin could see the tiniest of smiles on his lips before he turned away and stomped off toward the tables.

“Now,” Edwin said to himself, rubbing his hands. “What do I eat first?”