“It is easy for outsiders to say things like how certain tricks should have been easy to guard against after the fact. They never consider the situation of the people involved, how those people think, what those people are familiar with. All too often, people might get too used to taking certain things for granted, and are simply unprepared for the time when someone else would yank it away from them.” - Alberto Densus Macragge, retired general from the Clangeddin Empire, circa 394 VA.

High Lord Esteban Dukoz of Sebaque, One of the First Lords of the Southern Coalition of Sovereign Nations, truly considered himself – and his country – to be the True Heir to the legacy of the mighty Clangeddin Empire. In his mind, it is only fitting for them and no other to claim sovereignty over the lands once ruled by the now-shattered Empire.

That they had to ally themselves to others and work together instead of achieving this noblest of goals with their own power had always irked him, but since he was previously only an Earl with a landhold that was neither large nor small, it was an impossible task to do by himself. It was a stroke of fortune that three of his neighbors shared similar ideas, which was what prompted the four to form the Southern Coalition.

While the four of them were united to outside eyes – they had to put up the front of unity at all costs, given that they neighbor the powerful Grand Duchy of Sevras-Galastine to their east and the small but militant Republic of Caroma to their north-west – there were naturally some conflicts of interests between the four. Most of the time, the conflicts took place in private chambers, political debates and treaties where they tried to position their nation to get the best advantages. It was a normal thing, all considered.

After all, despite the jockeying around for advantages, the four original founders of the Southern Coalition were bound by oaths and blood – mostly by convenient political marriages – which ensured that they would stay civil with one another. That had led to their success in annexing most of their smaller neighbors, which in turn meant that their Coalition was one of the few remaining powers in the former Empire’s territory in the present day.

This expedition to reclaim the former capital was a rather risky venture. Everybody knew of the formidable walls of the former capital, and even if the peasants that claimed it for themselves at the moment had only a poor excuse of a military, the walls themselves would cause great losses for any attacking force attempting to take the city.

For that reason the coalition had chosen to work together with the Podovniy March. The agreement was that the coalition would send in their forces first, to take the defenders’ eyes away from the March. Once the defenders had committed their forces to face the coalition’s assault, the March would in turn launch their attack from the east.

That would leave the defenders in a dilemma on whether they should retreat back to Levain itself or continue to tangle with the Coalition’s forces. It was a rather risky deal, but the agreement of splitting the territories of Levain between the two – with the city itself going to whoever conquered it – was too tempting. After all, even if the March’s forces would have an easier time early on, they would at best be given a head start in assaulting Levain itself, which was by far the toughest nut to crack.

In order to gain the right to personally lead the expedition – and thus allocate a larger portion of the spoils to his own coffers – the High Lord had made compromises with the rest. As such, out of the mighty force of sixty-five thousand under his command, a full ten thousand were elites from his territory, while the other three First Lords sent another ten thousand elites in total.

The rest of their numbers were made up of conscripts from their conquered territories, second-class citizens promised better treatment for their families should they manage to acquire military merits, as well as mercenaries that had taken the offered deal to become part of the Southern Coalition’s military. The high lord himself considered them as a ragtag band, one and all, but quantity had its own quality as well.

To the outside world, they announced that they had raised a hundred thousand soldiers in their noble quest to reclaim the former capital. The announcement had been made once the troops had gathered and set out towards the north, several days ago. It was the proper thing to do, after all, to proclaim one’s nobility and righteousness to the world, as well as to intimidate their enemies.

Besides, it wasn’t like the passage of over sixty thousand men could be hidden from curious eyes anyway.

It was in that spirit that the High Lord went forth and personally exchanged words with the so-called leader of the peasant rabble he saw awaiting them by the border. The folly of the peasants for refusing to acknowledge their betters was annoying, but not unexpected. The High Lord just scoffed and returned to his army, prepared to order them to continue their advance when he heard the whistling noises from the other side.

That noise was soon echoed by a shrill bird’s cry from above, in the same pattern, and the High Lord recognized it as a signal. He looked around, expecting an ambush to sprout from the tall grass, but found none, to his surprise.

It was only when the flames grew big enough to be visible from afar and the smoke covered the skies all of a sudden that he realized just how far his enemies planned to take things.