A general born to rule

And so begins The war of righteous flame

The night before the battle, Emperor Valdrak’s camp was alive with the sounds of marching feet, clanking armor, and the faint crackle of campfires that dotted the horizon. Tents, banners, and the emblems of the Golden Orcest Empire stood proudly, stretching as far as the eye could see. His massive army had set up camp just beyond the borders of Valorcrest, ready to bring war to the kingdom that dared defy him.

Valdrak, dressed in his resplendent armor adorned with gold and jewels, stood before his gathered troops. His generals flanked him, each as arrogant and power-hungry as their emperor. Aislin and Seraphine, as instructed, had been told to stay on the far right of the camp, their presence more as trophies than actual aides. They watched silently, knowing their fates were tied to the outcome of the battle but powerless to change it themselves.

Valdrak stepped forward to address his soldiers. The men, numbering in the tens of thousands, stood at attention. His booming voice echoed across the camp.

“Men of the Golden Orcest Empire!” Valdrak began, his voice filled with an air of superiority. “Tomorrow, we will march on Valorcrest, and we will crush the fools who dare to defy us. Look at them, with their toys and their weak-willed people. They think they can stand against the might of our empire, but we will show them the true power of our armies!”

The soldiers cheered, their morale lifted by the emperor’s words. Valdrak continued, growing more confident with every passing moment. His words were laced with arrogance and the belief that his victory was inevitable.

“We are invincible!” he shouted. “We are the Golden Orcest Empire, and no one can stand in our way! We will burn their cities, enslave their people, and leave nothing but ashes in our wake! Tomorrow, we shall claim victory, and all will bow before us!”

The generals grinned, nodding in agreement as they basked in the adulation of the soldiers. The empire’s troops were emboldened, filled with a sense of pride and arrogance that their numbers would overwhelm any enemy. Aislin and Seraphine, standing quietly to the side, exchanged a look, their hearts heavy. They could see the bloodlust in the eyes of the men around them and knew that tomorrow would be a day of great loss.

But then, in the midst of Valdrak’s speech, something strange happened.

A faint, high-pitched whistle cut through the night air, barely audible at first, but growing louder by the second. Aislin’s sensitive ears twitched as she picked up the sound. She and Seraphine turned their heads, looking toward the horizon, trying to discern what was coming. It was unlike anything they had ever heard before.

The soldiers, too, began to murmur in confusion, unsure of what the sound was. Valdrak raised a hand to quiet them, but before he could speak, the first explosion ripped through the night.

A massive plume of fire and earth erupted in the middle of the camp, sending men and tents flying into the air. The ground shook violently as more explosions followed in rapid succession. Panic spread through the ranks of the imperial soldiers as they scrambled for cover, trying to make sense of the sudden assault.

“What in the hells is that?!” one of the generals shouted, his voice barely audible over the deafening booms.

The answer came quickly, as the unmistakable roar of engines filled the sky. From the clouds, biplanes swooped down, their propellers whirring as they descended upon the camp. The planes, carrying machine guns, strafed the ground with deadly precision, cutting through the ranks of the Golden Orcest Empire’s soldiers like a scythe through wheat.

Men screamed as they were gunned down, the sound of rapid gunfire blending with the continuous barrage of artillery shells that rained from above. The whistle of incoming shells was now constant, the air filled with the acrid smell of gunpowder and smoke. Fires spread through the camp as tents and supply wagons were ignited by the relentless assault.