Ravenbreath

Steel Before Silence: Every war begins with drills

The Army of Light has crossed the border. Their banners gleam, their boots burn lines into ancient soil. Some call them saviors. Others, invaders. Either way, they march like they mean to stay. And at their front walks discipline—measured in drills, blades, and scars.

Wherever they camp, a ring of steel follows. Recruits rise with the sun, and by nightfall, they bleed on packed dirt. He trains them without pause, not for glory, but because hesitation kills faster than blades. But even he feels the tremor beneath the order—villages emptied too quickly, orders that don’t match what’s seen, and new recruits who ask the wrong questions.

Still, he sharpens them. Still, he teaches. Because whether the realm kneels or resists, someone will be left standing. And he intends to make sure it's one of his.