Plan of Attack

I made my way to the meeting chamber, my footsteps echoing faintly down the long, grand hallway. I reached the door. I paused, resting my hand on the cool brass handle. Through the heavy wood, the muffled sounds of conversation drifted towards me, voices low, serious, already deep in discussion. The councilmen, the kingdom’s most trusted advisors, were already gathered. With them, Rowan, the newly appointed war general.

I pushed the doors open, the faint creak of the hinges cutting through the murmur inside. The flickering candlelight illuminated the room, casting long, dancing shadows across the stone walls. In the center of the chamber, a large circular table lay covered with maps, parchments, and detailed battle plans. Rowan stood at the head of the table; his imposing frame bent over the intricate designs. His sharp eyes roved over the maps as if every mark held the key to our kingdom's future. The councilmen, men who had seen decades of war and diplomacy, surrounded him, their faces lined with concern.

I stepped forward, and the room fell silent. The councilmen turned towards me, their robes whispering as they straightened. Rowan’s gaze met mine, his expression unreadable, but I felt the weight of his scrutiny.

“Your Highness, we were not expecting you,” one of the councilmen said, his voice carefully measured.
“I have decided to take a more active role, behind the scenes, where I can be of use.”



Rowan’s eyes flickered briefly, a subtle shift of acknowledgment. A warrior like him understood the necessity of strength, both on and off the battlefield. Some of the councilmen exchanged glances, a few nodding in silent approval, while others remained cautious, their thoughts hidden behind creased brows.

“Your insight will be invaluable,” Rowan said, his voice steady.
“There are many fronts to this conflict, and your perspective could prove crucial in ways we may not yet see.”
“Let us begin.”
“Our goal is to bring our soldiers home safely.”

The strategy laid before us was a complex tapestry, each thread woven with the tensions of war. Maps of the kingdom and its surrounding territories were covered in inked annotations, marking critical points—rivers, forests, valleys—each one a potential battlefield. Wooden figurines, representing our forces and those of the enemy, stood poised on the maps, a silent reflection of the delicate balance we sought to maintain. Rowan’s hand hovered over a map, his fingers tracing the silver ribbon of a river cutting through the land.

“This river serves as a natural defense against any northern advance,” he explained, his voice precise.
“We have stationed archers along the cliffs.”
“They will be ready to rain arrows on anyone who attempts a crossing.”
“The enemy knows this.”
“They will seek another route.”

He pointed to the dense forest to the east, it's dark tangle offering both cover and danger.

“They may attempt to push through here,” he continued, “but it is a risk.”
“The undergrowth is thick, and our scouts have already set traps to slow their progress.”
“Still, we cannot rely on that alone.”
“If they break through, we will be exposed.”

One of the councilmen, a man with a silver beard and keen eyes, stepped forward.

“We have had reports of enemy scouts near the southern pass.”
“They could be probing for weaknesses, preparing to flank our forces.”

Rowan nodded, his expression darkening.

“I have stationed a reserve force in the foothills, hidden and ready to strike if necessary.”
“We will not be caught off guard.”

Another councilman adjusted his spectacles, his gaze sharp as he studied the map.

“What of Sir James?”
“Where does he fit into this?”

Rowan’s eyes briefly met mine before he answered.

“James is on the front lines,” Rowan said, his tone serious.
“His battalion will hold the western border, where we expect the enemy’s main assault.”
“The open terrain there favors mobility and cavalry, and James is well-versed in such combat.”
“He will lead the charge.”

He moved one of the wooden figures to the edge of the map, symbolizing James’s position.

“Their goal is to hold the line and push the enemy back if possible.”
“We have heard rumors.”
“Mercenaries from across the sea may bolster the enemy’s numbers.”
“It will not be an easy fight.”

A murmur of unease rippled through the council.


Another councilman, his voice strained, asked, “What of our allies?”
“Will they send reinforcements?”

Rowan glanced at another map, this one showing the positions of allied forces. Small flags marked their distant locations.

“They have pledged support, but they are still days away.”
“We have sent riders to hasten their arrival, but until then, we must hold our ground.”

I listened closely, absorbing every detail. The plan was sound, but it hinged on precise timing and anticipating the enemy’s movements. There was little margin for error. James was at the heart of it all.

“Rowan, this plan must succeed.”
“Our soldiers need to know what is at stake.”
“We cannot afford missteps.”

Rowan gave a solemn nod.

“They will be ready, Your Highness.”
“We will fight with everything we have.”


The meeting began to draw to a close. The councilmen collected their notes, their faces lined with the weight of the decisions made. Rowan straightened; his broad shoulders taut beneath his armor. He gave a final nod to the council before turning to me, his gaze unwavering.

“Is there anything else, Your Highness?”
“Any orders you wish to give?”
“Ensure James’s battalion is well-prepared.”
“They must have every resource we can provide.”
“I will see to it personally.”

The councilmen filed out of the chamber, their footsteps fading into the distance. Rowan lingered, his eyes studying me as if gauging the weight of my words.

“I know James means much to you.”
“Rest assured, he is surrounded by good men.”
“They will watch his back.”

I met his gaze, appreciating the intent behind his words, though the knot of worry inside me remained.

“Thank you, Rowan.”
“I trust in him and in you.”

Rowan inclined his head and left, his heavy boots echoing against the stone floor. The door closed softly behind him, leaving me alone in the chamber, the maps and figurines spread before me, a silent reminder of the battle to come.

I stood there for a long moment, staring at the map of the western border. The flickering candlelight danced across the lines and figures, casting shadows over the land where James and his men would soon fight for our kingdom’s survival. Doubt flickered at the edges of my mind, but I forced it aside. There was no room for uncertainty.

Stepping to the window, I looked out over the stormy sky, dark clouds swirling ominously in the distance. The wind howled, rattling the glass panes as if to echo the turmoil inside me. I pressed my hands together, feeling the cool metal of my ring, a grounding weight against my skin. I had made my choice. Now, there was no turning back.