“A battle is not won by killing the most enemies. It is won by forcing the enemy to fight on your terms.”
Night descended upon the valley.
Thick clouds swallowed the moon, leaving only scattered campfires to illuminate the endless sea of imperial tents below.
The forest stood silent.
Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Six shadowy figures moved between the ancient trees with measured, deliberate steps.
At their head walked Adrian.
He suddenly raised a closed fist.
The group stopped instantly.
Not a single twig snapped.
Not a single voice broke the silence.
Ahead, beyond a line of dense shrubs, imperial sentries patrolled the outer perimeter of the camp.
The raid…
Had begun.
Adrian remained perfectly still.
He wasn’t searching for courage.
He was searching for rhythm.
His eyes followed the guards for several minutes.
One sentry regularly wandered away from his assigned route to warm his hands beside a fire.
Two others spent more time talking than watching.
A supply wagon arrived later than the others, briefly drawing every nearby guard toward the western entrance.
The forest-facing side of the camp was lightly defended.
The imperial officers believed no sensible man would dare attack from there.
Their confidence had become their weakness.
Adrian leaned closer to his men.
“They’ve become comfortable.”
His voice was barely louder than the rustling leaves.
“Comfort creates blind spots.”
The men nodded.
They waited.
The late-arriving wagon caused the distraction Adrian had anticipated.
Several guards abandoned their posts to assist the drivers.
Without another word…
The six shadows slipped silently into the camp.
The deeper they ventured…
The larger the imperial army appeared.
Rows upon rows of sleeping tents stretched endlessly into the darkness.
Hundreds of horses rested beside wooden fences.
Stacks of shields and spears lined the roads between encampments.
Cooking fires burned low as weary soldiers slept after another day of waiting.
The empire looked invincible.
Tomas swallowed hard.
His voice trembled.
“…How can six men fight all of this?”
Adrian didn’t even look back.
“We’re not here to fight.”
He continued walking.
“We’re here…”
“…to make them fight themselves.”
The words settled heavily upon the group.
For the first time…
They truly understood the purpose of the mission.
Several minutes later…
Adrian halted once more.
Before them stood dozens of heavy wagons loaded with sacks of grain.
Barrels of flour were stacked neatly beneath waterproof coverings.
Bundles of dried hay surrounded the storage area.
Nearby rested several barrels filled with lamp oil.
Everything required to feed thousands of soldiers.
Adrian’s expression remained calm.
“This…”
He looked across the countless supplies.
“…is the heart of the army.”
Destroying soldiers weakened an army.
Destroying its food threatened its survival.
Just as the men prepared to move…
Fate intervened.
A patrol unexpectedly changed direction.
Not because they had been discovered.
Not because someone had made a mistake.
Pure chance.
The soldiers walked directly toward their hiding place.
Everyone froze.
One imperial soldier yawned loudly before stepping away from his companions.
He wandered closer.
Closer still.
Tomas instinctively reached for the hilt of his sword.
Adrian’s hand immediately seized his wrist.
He slowly shook his head.
No.
Not yet.
The soldier stopped only a few paces away.
“…This cursed cold,” he muttered.
Another guard laughed.
“You complain more than my wife.”
The men chuckled quietly.
After another moment, they turned and continued their patrol.
Only when their footsteps faded into the darkness did Tomas finally breathe again.
He looked toward Adrian.
The prince had never once reached for his weapon.
Discipline…
Had saved them more effectively than steel.
Adrian divided the group into two teams.
The first quietly uncorked the oil barrels.
Carefully…
Patiently…
They poured narrow streams of oil beneath the grain wagons, allowing the liquid to soak into the dry hay scattered across the ground.
The second team crept toward the nearby horse enclosure.
Working in silence, they loosened ropes and unlatched wooden gates.
Tomas frowned.
“…Why free the horses?”
Adrian continued tying the final oil-soaked cloth.
“When panic begins…”
He looked toward the restless animals.
“…they’ll make it worse.”
The horses were never meant to fight.
They were meant to spread fear.
Everything was ready.
Adrian accepted a burning torch from one of the hunters.
The small flame danced quietly in the darkness.
For a brief moment…
His thoughts drifted elsewhere.
Another battlefield.
Another explosion.
Another fire.
The last memory of his previous life.
He remembered shielding a grenade beneath his own body.
He remembered the deafening blast.
He remembered dying.
Slowly…
He closed his eyes.
Then opened them again.
This was different.
This fire was not born from hatred.
It was born from necessity.
He swung his arm.
The torch flew through the darkness.
It landed among the oil-soaked hay.
For a heartbeat…
Nothing happened.
Then—
Whoosh!
Flames erupted with terrifying speed.
The oil carried the fire from wagon to wagon.
Dry hay ignited instantly.
Within seconds…
The entire supply depot was engulfed in a roaring inferno.
“FIRE!”
The desperate scream shattered the silence of the night.
Imperial soldiers burst from their tents.
“The grain!”
“Save the grain!”
“Bring water!”
The carefully ordered camp descended into complete chaos.
The frightened horses bolted from their enclosure, galloping wildly between the burning wagons.
Soldiers were knocked aside.
Supply carts overturned.
Burning embers scattered through nearby tents.
Officers shouted conflicting commands.
“Protect the commander!”
“No!”
“Save the supplies!”
“We’re under attack!”
Confusion spread faster than the flames themselves.
An army that had appeared unstoppable only moments earlier now stumbled over its own panic.
Adrian watched for only a single heartbeat.
Then he spoke.
“Withdraw.”
No celebration.
No unnecessary battle.
The mission was complete.
The six men vanished into the darkness as silently as they had arrived.
Their escape was not entirely unnoticed.
“There!”
An imperial archer spotted movement near the forest.
A group of cavalry immediately gave chase.
Branches whipped against the riders as they entered the dense woodland.
But Adrian had already anticipated it.
He deliberately led his men across steep, rocky ground where mounted soldiers struggled to maintain speed.
Horses slipped.
Branches blocked their path.
Visibility vanished.
Within minutes…
The pursuing cavalry lost sight of the raiders.
One by one…
They abandoned the chase.
The forest had swallowed them whole.
Near dawn…
The six figures returned to the ruined watchtower.
Every man.
Alive.
Sir Roland stood waiting at the gate.
For several moments, the old knight simply stared.
His voice was almost a whisper.
“…They all came back.”
Adrian reached into his cloak.
He removed the small carved wooden horse.
The little boy immediately ran toward him.
“You came back!”
Adrian knelt before him and gently placed the carving into his hands.
“I made a promise.”
The boy hugged the toy tightly.
Around them…
The refugees smiled for the first time since the fall of their kingdom.
Far below…
Inside the imperial command tent…
The commander burst outside in disbelief.
Half the supply depot had become an ocean of fire.
Soldiers desperately formed bucket lines.
Others attempted to rescue burning wagons.
The smell of smoke filled the valley.
The older general stood quietly with his hands behind his back.
“I warned you.”
The commander slammed his fist against a table.
“How?”
“How did six men do this?”
The old general never took his eyes off the burning camp.
“They didn’t defeat our soldiers.”
“They defeated our certainty.”
He slowly turned toward the distant silhouette of the ruined watchtower standing against the morning sky.
“For the first time…”
“…that hill is no longer defending itself.”
“It’s attacking.”
Silence settled over the command tent.
The commander finally understood.
This siege would not be as simple as he had imagined.
As dawn painted the eastern sky with shades of gold…
The refugees gathered upon the broken walls.
Far below…
Columns of black smoke still rose into the heavens.
For a long while…
No one spoke.
Then…
A little girl laughed.
Another child pointed excitedly toward the burning camp.
Soon…
Hope spread through the watchtower just as panic had spread through the imperial army.
It wasn’t a great victory.
The siege remained.
The empire still possessed overwhelming numbers.
But something invisible had changed.
The refugees no longer believed the empire was invincible.
And deep within the imperial camp…
The soldiers had begun to wonder whether the forgotten prince on the hill was far more dangerous than anyone had imagined.
End of Chapter 5
“That night, the empire lost more than grain. It lost the illusion that victory was inevitable.”
————————–The End———————
Next : Ashes of Confidence
By : Zenryth