Return of the General's Daughter

The applause that followed Turik’s speech was firm and respectful, echoing through the hall like the steady beat of war drums. Yet beneath the surface of celebration, every commander in that room knew this was not the end. Carles was only the beginning.

General Turik, rather, the supreme general, raised a hand silencing the room with a single gesture. His gaze swept over the Estalian and Zuran commanders—some scarred, others young, but all sharpened by war.

"Now," he said, his tone shifting from pride to command, "we prepare for the second phase."

A bulky Zuran commander stepped forward. His name was Commander Scarface, known for his blunt speech and fearless charges. The scar on his face, that run from his right to check to his right forehead made him appear scary.

"Do we march northwest to pressure Fereya’s defense or strike at Hainai while their defenses are stretched thin?" Scarface asked.

Turik gestured toward the large map unfurled on the table behind him. Red markers dotted the Northern border. Blue flags marked Estalian strongholds. The green pins—Odin’s forces—held the eastern and central line, but that was in the past. Now those were under Lord Malik.

"Neither," Turik replied. "We ride north. We attack Savadra directly."

A murmur rippled across the room.

"But Supreme General, defense must be strong in the capital," one of the Estalian officers said, furrowing his brow.

Turik’s smile was thin. "Exactly. But let us fake an attack in Fereya and let the rebels attack Hainai. Then we instigate the bandits to create chaos in the towns west, north and south of the capital. The people we planted at central Northem should create chaos until their forces are exhausted. Spread thin from defending and subduing the insurgents."

Scarface raised an eyebrow. "And?"

Turik leaned forward, his voice a quiet razor. "When they are busy with our decoys, we surround the capital and before they realized what hit them, Northem will fall—and it will fall under our name."