Thousands are readying themselves for war. The sound of war horns blasts through the city streets to awaken every soul on this fine day. Men and women, soldiers of my army, wearing their colours with pride as they carry their equipment on their backs outside the crystal city. The clattering of black iron breastplate is our drum, and the hate in our hearts is a unifying symphony. The first day of winter will be remembered as the day we took the North. As it should be.

  Some chose to carry simpler weaponry, like a spear or a sword, but those warriors are unable to modernise and adapt to more advanced weapons of war. Our great crossbow. However, they are still soldiers, good enough to butcher the vermin of the island who are foolish enough to stand in my way.

  Some of their loved ones wave them off, chanting praises and wishing them luck for a safe return. It is something they shouldn’t wish for someone if they are heading off to fight in my war. What they should encourage and wish for in their loved ones is to fight hard and kill as much as possible. They will return. It is reductive and a waste of a wish to think they won’t. No, we will be victorious against our foes. The Cinari are incapable of stopping us taking the South, they won’t be any different when we fight them up North.

  But I do not doubt that a good portion of my army will perish in the war. The Cinari, regardless of how pathetic they are, will be prepared for my arrival. They will do their best to fight dirty, and use every trick in the book to kill or humiliate me. I will expect to deal with a fortified North, one where I will have to climb the bodies of my dead to kill the whore of an Empress. I might even have to climb over my own to tear her throat out.

  There is no need to waste any more of my time; I need to prepare myself. As I head to my personal armoury to see my armour neatly placed on an armour stand. My armour and shield are made with black iron, but infused with magic crystals, which adds another layer of defence against their vile magic. I want this sort of armour to be fitted out for my entire army. To do that, however, will mean I have to delay my invasion by a year. No, infusing is good, but just typical armour is good enough. My invasion has been delayed enough as it is when creating the crossbows. I will not delay it any further!

  Donning my armour and grabbing my short sword and modified crossbow, as well as my pack of personal supplies. With a heavy breath, I imagine the blood of the Cinari improving the odour of this armour.

  Unlike any of the crossbows made for the rest of my army. Mine is a single-handed weapon that is magazine-fed. While it may only hold three bolts at any given time, it is still a devastating weapon as it utilises magic crystal tips. A single-use bolt, but powerful enough to punch through everything and kill whoever is wearing that armour. It will do.

  On a lonesome stand, a helmet waits for me. Personally made by the head of the forge. It is a simple design. Like any helm my army wears, it is shaped to resemble the top halves of our skulls. What makes it special is that it has a crown made of chains on top of it. One befitting for a king. The liberator of my people!

  I pull out May’s belt buckle to stare at. My heart freezes, growing colder as I hope for a moment she will come up from behind me and jump on my back or tell me how her day went and how her friends are doing.

  Yet all that remains from my hopes and desires is silence. No one jumps on my back or tells me how they are doing. A man without his family, a father without his daughter, is an empty existence. There was a purpose to it all when she was alive. Even if I were a slave, there was something, something, that encouraged me to live. To be something greater.

  Now, I'm driven by one task. I want their kind to burn, to suffer a death so horrible. I want their species to watch their temples burn, their women ravaged, and their men work to the bone. The hope of a future, a world they claimed they had control over. I will snuff it out! That is my promise, my creed to demons birthed from the wombs of hell.

  Midrax walks into my personal armoury, his body covered in black armour. The plating on every piece is almost as thick as my fist. I find it difficult to believe he is strong enough to even wear that thing. Surely he gets tired every second or finds it unwieldy.

  ‘Are you ready to move out?’ Midrax drools after taking a bite of an apple. The brute seems to have a liking for them.

  ‘I am, but what are you doing here?’

  He wipes his mouth with his hand, slobbering all over his glove. ‘I want to address a possible issue. Once we arrive North, we will be cut off from any supplies.’

  ‘The North is rich in resources; we can manage when we arrive.’

  ‘I disagree.’

  I glare at him, waiting for him to justify his claim. He is not clever. Logistics is something of an afterthought with him, and I don’t see why he is bringing it up to me.

  ‘When we free our people, we won’t have enough stuff to supply them.’ Midrax continues. ‘Some might not be capable of fighting at all.’

  ‘What are you proposing? So far, I don’t see an issue other than we might have poorly supplied recruits.’

  ‘I am saying we need some people to be guides to bring the free people down South.’

  I growl, ‘don’t be stupid! I need every soldier under my command if we have to win this war. Everyone will need to fight. I can’t have a few stragglers wasting my supplies. If they can’t fight, they will work.’

  Midrax sinks into his armour. ‘We don’t need a lot of men staying behind; we only need a handful.’ He speaks in a wimpy voice, being careful not to push my patience. ‘Jackle can stay behind. He mapped out the desert; he can guide our people back south.’

  I scoff, ‘why should I waste his skills? His use will be best served in the front lines.’

  ‘Because he is the best navigator we have. We can train the refugees in the South with modern equipment and tactics under Max’s leadership. Jackle can guide them back North to reinforce us.’

  For some reason, that doesn’t sound half bad of an idea. It will waste time, and it will cost us some distance. But it will provide us with more complex equipment, potentially even siege equipment. It seems this brute does have a mind after all.

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  ‘Good thinking,’ I reply. ‘I will consider it. However, I will not put his skills to waste. Jackle will train a few men on the march to be navigators. I doubt it will be hard for anyone to learn how to move through the sand.’

  Midrax nods to me, though he stays silent as I leave the room with my kit. I’ve wasted enough time as it is; I should join up with my army.

  My army outside of my city’s walls welcomes my arrival. Singing praises and retelling my past victories as their king is willing to join and fight amongst them. As soon as they finish their celebration, they quickly go back to their regular duties to prepare for the long march. Some of them check and recheck their crossbows, calibrating them or modifying the handle and crank system that suits their needs. Every kart is full of supplies, be it food, water, additional weapons, specialised equipment, and even raw materials in case we need to build our siege engines.

  Leaves painted black rain down from the walls while the crowd cheers us on. Outside of the city, some family members say their final goodbyes or give their loved ones additional supplies for their journey through the desert. Others express joy to see their friends or family heading off to fight against the Cinari filth in one final push. The injured and the disabled Dogs, on the other hand, beg their friends and family to stay safe and away from danger.

  Of course, they will say that, the cowards and incapable bastards are always cautious and craven in times of conflict. It is how they got hurt in the first place. Pathetic.

  Karl heads towards me, wearing nothing but his pants. Next to him is an angry-looking Dog with orange and white fur, while wearing a brown and yellow hood that covers his head and body. He carries an old model of the crossbow with a short blade attached to the end of it.

  He must be Jackle. A little unknown person in my army. All I know is he was a part of a four-man team who were tasked to map out the desert. He is the only one left alive. He wasn’t the only team I’ve sent out to do his job, but compared to the others, he is the only successful one. His reports say that every team member and other exploration teams died from exposure, starvation, or dehydration. However, he still lives, walking among us as if nothing happened there.

  There are rumours about him, about how he survived the waste. I suppose if you are cut off from the world, you will eventually grow a liking to the taste of your comrades.

  ‘My king, this is Jackle. He’ll be leading us through the Galire Desert.’ Karl introduces me to the man. Jackle blankly stares at me, his eyes a void of any kind of thought.

  ‘Will we face any issues?’ I ask Jackle, seeing if his silence is his demeanour or just his attitude.

  ‘Yep.’ He sharply replies. ‘The weather out there is hazardous.’

  So, it is just his demeanour. A man who gets straight to the point, and it looks like the type to want to waste anyone’s time. ‘Why didn’t you mention water being a potential issue? Do you think we’ll have enough?’

  ‘Nope, no one will have enough. Nor can we bring anymore without slowing us down. I do know where to get water in the desert.’

  I raise a brow; I struggle to believe you will find water in an ocean of sand. Either he is trying to make a fool out of me, or he is installing false hope. I do not appreciate lies if it means my army is not capable of fighting against the Cinari. However, the best I can do is hope he knows what he is doing.

  ‘Anything else we need?’

  ‘Firewood.’

  Karl chuckles, ‘firewood, in the desert? It’ll be hot all of the…’

  ‘Not at night.’ Jackle calmly interrupts Karl. ‘The desert is cold when the sun is out. You’ll need to keep warm if you don’t want to freeze.’

  ‘Then we’ll gather firewood once we arrive at Rindis.’ I gesture to Jackle to my army, ‘but for now, lead the way.’

  Jackle nods to me and walks off, his scolding expression not changing a bit.

  ‘You sure we need firewood? I don’t see the purpose of taking any with us.’ Karl says to me. He seems distrusting of Jackle. I can understand why Jackle doesn’t come across as friendly or even happy to be with others.

  ‘If he knows how to get us North, he will also know how to survive the trip to get there.’

  Karl speaks before I head off. ‘But what if he is wrong?’

  ‘He wouldn’t be alive if he wasn’t.’

  Karl yields a worrisome nod in acknowledgment before heading off to be with his own army. While he seems to be willing to ask questions, I am glad he is smart enough to shut up before he causes any trouble. It isn’t wise to question my authority or decisions. Especially when they will benefit my new Empire.

  ‘Pack up and move out! We have a war to win and a nation to build!’ I order. Getting my army ready for the long walk. For my army to march north with Jackle as our guide.

  My soldiers chat amongst themselves, even sing about how they will go home with a lover in their arms. Trivial, but it will keep their morale up.

  I turn back to the civilians waving us off. Alex’s there, he stands there with what seems to be a blank expression. In his arms is my Forge Master, whatever her name is. It seems they are a couple. That will explain the child in her stomach. If I knew they were together before heading off. It will make me more inclined not to pick him to rule over the South. She will only distract him if they are together, but with me, he will have further motivation to stay alive and fight harder than ever.

  No point in turning back now and changing my decision. I stand by my decision and I hope Alex is wise enough to not be distracted by her. The South needs a leader, not a soon-to-be-father.