With the bellowing roar of war horns, the Godman general assault commenced. The first wave consisted of fifty-five hundred men, divided into ten formations, advancing in a great horizontal line that stretched for five kilometers across the plains. Seventy-two war drums thundered in disciplined unison, their rhythmic pounding merging with the thunder of countless hooves to create a resonance that shook the very earth beneath them. Unlike the traditional Ptolemaick phalanxes of antiquity, these Godman formations possessed fundamental differences in both tactical function and military composition. The Godman battle array abandoned conventional squared formations; instead, their vanguards adopted aggressive triangular wedges. Cavalry dominated their ranks, while infantry rarely marched on foot—riding instead in four-man chariots or ten-soldier transport wagons pulled by sturdy warhorses, maximizing tactical mobility. Such cavalry-centric battle formations would have been unthinkable during the horse-scarce Ptolemaick era.

  Raveirmom Dear had specifically engineered this military structure for a single purpose: overwhelming speed in assault. To counter Cynthia's formidable catapults and wall-mounted archer battalions, the formations required exceptional mobility, allowing them to evade enemy counterfire wherever possible. Each formation's heart contained an enormous mobile trebuchet—these engines of destruction were considered essential for neutralizing Cynthia's defensive fortifications. Their innovative design featured specialized mechanisms allowing their throwing arms to lie horizontal during transport, significantly enhancing mobility and stability across difficult terrain. Duke Dear's optimal strategic outcome relied on these siege engines disabling the fixed catapults mounted on Cynthia's walls—yet given the imposing height of the Wall of Cynthia and the superior range of its defensive artillery, this remained a perilous gambit with uncertain prospects. Nevertheless, this defensive line represented the essential barrier Godma must breach to penetrate Cynthian territory.

  Dillet Apollo staggered up the final steps of the tower, his breath coming in labored gasps. "A… a most auspicious… start, my Lord…"

  "Perhaps catch your breath first, Dillet Apollo," Raveirmom suggested, standing with hands clasped behind his back in calm assessment. Nate clung to the parapet railing, rocking eagerly back and forth as he stared with unbroken concentration at the rapidly advancing formations below. "Our attack has already suffered significant delays; the Cynthians have undoubtedly prepared their defenses thoroughly. This will prove a brutal engagement." Aethelwing, the magnificent striped white eagle, perched majestically atop the tower's highest point, issuing two sharp, piercing calls.

  "Indeed, my lord..." The orderly suppressed a dry cough. "But this aligns with our initial strategic expectations, does it not?"

  "Securing Wafflo represents our critical objective. Once we establish a defensible position, preserving our siege engines becomes paramount. Without proper battering rams, Cynthia's Gate remains virtually impenetrable."

  "Will it truly prove so difficult?" Nate inquired, curiosity evident in his voice.

  "Will what?" Raveirmom asked, having missed the boy's question. "Opening the gate."

  "Unquestionably. The challenge will be formidable... Mind your position, Nate." He halted the boy who had begun dangerously extending one leg over the railing. "Such carelessness invites a fatal fall." The boy obediently withdrew his wayward limb. "Have you additional matters to report?" He and Dillet Apollo moved toward the opposite side of the tower platform. "It is a matter of no great import, my lord, but one I thought you should know." The orderly ran a nervous tongue over his lips. "The sorceresses, my lord. They are here."

  "Indeed?" Raveirmom Dear's eyebrow arched upward—a rare display of surprise. "The mages have joined us? Which individuals specifically, or has the entire coven arrived?"

  "The latter, my lord. The complete Sorceress Coven has assembled."

  "And their accommodations?" The duke's tone reflected genuine curiosity. "Let me propose a wager, Dillet Apollo—one copper piece. I'd stake considerable confidence that they've refused to occupy standard tents."

  "Then I am afraid your coin purse will be the lighter for it, my lord," the orderly replied, a wide grin breaking across his face. "For they are indeed quartered in simple canvas tents, same as any common soldier."

  "The Falcon" Raveirmom erupted in hearty laughter, retrieving a copper coin from his pocket and pressing it firmly into Dillet Apollo's palm. "Now that constitutes a genuine novelty—Godma's court sorceresses not merely consenting to soil their delicate feet upon muddy terrain, but even submitting to canvas accommodations. By Eoch's own maxim, times indeed have fundamentally transformed." Just as Dillet Apollo was about to secret the coin into his purse, Raveirmom's finger, swift and sure as a striking falcon, pinned it to the younger man's palm. "Yet when precisely did this occur? Why has this development escaped my knowledge until now?"

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  "Their arrival occurred during last evening's hours, my lord." The orderly's expression betrayed concern that the copper might be reclaimed. "The complications with supply wagons and military chariots diverted my attention, and I neglected to inform you properly. A significant oversight on my part."

  The duke withdrew his restraining finger. "Guide me to them, Dillet Apollo. Though I rarely engage with practitioners of the arcane arts, this particular circumstance demands my personal attention." Before the orderly could begin his descent, Raveirmom countermanded his instruction. "No, on second thought, you remain at your post," he commanded, his gaze flicking to Nate, who was utterly entranced by the unfolding battle. "Keep a close eye on the boy. See that he comes to no harm."

  "But are you familiar with their tent's location?"

  "Then let us establish another wager." He glanced back with a knowing smile. "Undoubtedly the most opulent pavilion in the encampment."

  Dillet Apollo offered a noncommittal shrug, fingers idly caressing the still-warm copper coin.

  "Consider it yours to keep."

  Lostya Huggins reclined languidly upon her cot, provocatively lifting her skirt to admire the inner contours of her left thigh, tracing delicate patterns with meticulously manicured fingernails. "You've been engaged in this self-inspection since dawn, by the sacred Triad," Julia remarked irritably, arms folded tightly across her chest as she paced restlessly within the tent's confines. Her hair and eyes both possessed a muted coloration that contrasted sharply with the vibrant hues of her elaborate gown. "It's merely a limb, something we all possess, you Catorian narcissist."

  "Oh, dear," Ash Davan sighed theatrically, giving her magnificent blonde mane a flick. Her striking blue eyes remained fixed on the pewter goblet that floated, spinning gently, an inch above her outstretched palm. "You mentioned Catoria, Julia. Now you've done it."

  "I—my emphasis was primarily on," Julia protested, leaning against a diminutive storage chest, "the narcissism aspect."

  Lostya maintained deliberate indifference to the witches' exchange, continuing her self-examination with undisturbed serenity. Her appraisal of her own thigh apparently complete, her gaze then drifted with languid satisfaction to her right breast, deliberately pulling down her neckline to caress the alabaster curve of flesh.

  "This represents her consistent behavioral pattern," Ash commented as cerulean lightning began enveloping her levitating vessel. "I was half-expecting her to fly into a rage when you brought up Catoria. After all," she drew a crackling rope of pure lightning from the goblet, wrapping it around her fingers like a playful kitten, "you know as well as I do that when our dear Lona truly loses her temper, the storms she unleashes are far more violent than mine."

  "Your assessment contains fundamental inaccuracies, Ash," Lostya remarked with calculated indifference. "My nature embodies gentleness." Ash responded with an exaggerated shrug.

  "This perpetual aggravation of your injuries must cease, Lona." Aurelia's authoritative voice announced her presence as she stood framed in the tent entrance, hands positioned firmly upon her hips. Despite being chronologically senior among Godma's court mages, her appearance suggested vitality comparable to—or possibly exceeding—that of the recently inducted Ash Davan. Her stature was imposing, her features not conventionally beautiful but possessing such harmonious balance that observers experienced an almost irresistible sense of comfort in her presence. "The enchantment will deteriorate with continued manipulation."

  "I'm merely evaluating the healing progression," Lostya adjusted her position to sit upright. "Your concern seems excessive—" Her statement terminated in a sudden, sharp cry, partially induced by simultaneous pain emanating from both breast and thigh. "What precisely are you doing, Aurelia?!" The raven-haired sorceress stared in outraged disbelief at her freshly bleeding wounds. Ash Davan briefly diverted her attention toward the commotion before returning, entirely unperturbed, to her electrical experimentation. Julia's eyes were wide as saucers, and she made a small, nervous swallowing sound. "What action have you taken, Aurelia?"

  "Direct that inquiry toward her," Aurelia suggested, approaching Lostya and leaning forward. "Compose yourself—these are merely superficial injuries. Your histrionics rival those of slaughtered livestock." She placed her hand—notably larger than those of either Lostya or Ash—against Lostya's cheek with surprising gentleness. Gradually, the pain subsided.

  "What actions have you undertaken, Lona?"

  "Inconsequential wounds, nothing more." Lostya attempted to meet Julia's penetrating gaze over Aurelia's shoulder, visibly uncomfortable under such scrutiny. "Truly undeserving of such collective concern."

  "The weakest lie I've heard all week," Ash chimed in, still not glancing up from her crackling goblet. "We require complete disclosure regarding your activities. More specifically," Julia clarified, her tone hardening, "those activities conducted without our knowledge or consent."