Everyone was now sitting together in the large tent of the army leaders. On one side sat Theodor and August, both with grim faces, on the other, Wenzel and his two bodyguards. Each of the trio looked like a little schoolboy who had just gotten into trouble. To be honest, the situation was similar, though much worse in its consequences. August began his rebuke:

  "What were you thinking! Going for a drink with Wenzel for his birthday? Stupid! But the worst thing is that you just left me in the dark about it! What else was I supposed to do but send out a troop to find the Chosen One? You should have realised that this would be my reaction to your disappearance, at least, if you had any brain cells left, which doesn’t seem to be the case! And you in particular, Brahm, should have realised how incredibly stupid this idea was! What the heck!" August convulsed with rage and his head turned bright red. He was totally beside himself. Wenzel had never seen him like this before and, unbeknownst to him, the other two had never seen him like this either. But before the furious man could continue his tirade, Theodor interrupted him.

  "It's all right, calm down, August." The Field Marshal turned to those who had just been reprimanded. "I can't change what's happened now anyway. August is right in what he says, but we still have to stay cool and rational. So, let's go through the whole thing again in an organised way. If I've understood things correctly, Wenzel has revealed himself to the inhabitants of Soldach as the person he is. Is that correct?" - "Yes," replied the three of them briefly. August immediately intervened again and said: "Yes, and some of the soldiers managed to escape! They will report to their master that the Chosen One has INDEED returned. The news will spread like wildfire throughout the kingdom, not just among the population as a rumour, but as a fact and right up to the royal house! That is now inevitable!" Theodor patted the chief of staff on the shoulder and said: "Take a breath, will you? It's all right, we'll manage." August heeded the advice and took a few deep breaths.

  He was absolutely beside himself, not only because they had made stupid, avoidable mistakes, but also because the consequences of today's incident were throwing his plans into disarray. The Field Marshal went on a train of thought, hand on his chin. Then he asked Brahm a question: "Commander Duenitz, you led Wenzel out of the camp without informing us, is that right?"

  At that moment, Wenzel was terrified that Brahm might be punished or even dismissed as his bodyguard. He had to prevent that! "It was my idea!" Wenzel interjected. In response, everyone present looked at him. "I wanted to go to a pub. Brahm and Ferenc actually wanted to stop me, but I managed to convince them, by insisting and arguing, that it was a special occasion." Slight scepticism could be seen in Theodor's eyes. "Well, okay," was his whole reaction to that. The young man didn't know whether the man had actually believed him, but at least he had prevented negative consequences for his good friend.

  Consequently, August, who had regained his composure, continued. "The kingdom will mobilise against us and this time it will be a large army, that much is clear." Theodor confirmed his statement when he gave him a quick glance. "Actually, we wanted to wait for the strategically right time to present our Chosen One to the people. We might even have made a big show out of your 'revelation'. That's all gone now. The moment you chose for your action today is very unfavourable for me." Wenzel scratched the back of his head in embarrassment and averted his eyes, but continued to listen. "Campaigns cannot be organised in winter. Therefore, all sides, including us, will wait for spring to begin their operations. Now that the enemy has learnt about you at the beginning of winter, he will have enough time to announce the levy to all his feudal lords in all his lands. He will be able to make the necessary preparations and gather his subjects for the campaign. Of course, the whole thing will be very difficult for him, as we are now spread across all the lands and resistance is already taking place everywhere, but nevertheless, this situation is not good."

  The Field Marshal added: "It's not that bad. The Martyrs won't be defeated so easily, especially as our methods are very different to theirs and they obviously are having big problems with them." However, August replied: "Easier said than done! I've been very busy restructuring our troops recently and the issue of supplying and communicating with our them is quintessential here. Logistics is the be-all and end-all in any war. We are not yet ready to fight a full-blown war! In the meantime, the guerrilla tactics we've been using so far will have to do." The Chief of Staff wiped his forehead nervously. Theodor signalled his complete confidence in his abilities. Everyone else also firmly believed that August would manage the situation. Nevertheless, the plans that the man had worked out for the group were now in disarray.

  "After the incident in Soldach, our headquarters are now obviously in jeopardy. But moving is definitely out of the question at the moment!" Theodor understood the problem. He replied: "Then I'll probably have to secure a buffer zone around the headquarters." - "You mean you'll bring the surrounding villages under our control?" - "Yes." - "In winter, that's an extremely foolish endeavour! Frostbite, disease, high casualties...", the chief of staff pointed out. But Theodor replied: "I realise that, but what must be done, must be done." So, it was decided. The go-ahead for the revolution had been given. The resistance would make its first real conquests. What a birthday!

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  A woman, visibly aged from the stress of her work, was sitting at her desk. It was a large office she was in and around her the documents and reports to be dealt with were piling almost so high, that those towers threatened to topple over. The window was tarnished from the cold outside. The lady sat quietly with her face in her hands. Several minutes had passed like this. Finally, she pulled herself together and got up from her chair. It was Gabriela Cornel and she had just read the report from the lord of one of the western territories about what had happened in the district of Neureut in the Karantian Forests. The circumstances were dire, to say the least. The insurgents, whose activities had spread throughout the kingdom in recent months, had taken control of several settlements in Neureut, including the administrative centre of Neureut itself! Launching such an operation in winter was more than just audacious. Also, control over a few other places in other parts of the country seemed to be only nominal.

  She had also received news that the Melgarists had apparently appointed a new demon as their ruler. What a disaster! It was imperative not only to eliminate this person, whose identity was known to her, but also to mobilise troops. The treasury would now have to mobilise the reserves of the kingdom and the Confederacy to avert this threat. The situation had already gone from bad to worse and she and everyone else at court would now have to recognise the gravity of the situation. Things were slowly moving closer and closer to an existential threat. The peasants naturally sided with the Melgarists whenever they were given the opportunity. Therefore, every opportunity had to be avoided at all costs and any disobedience had to be brutally punished. This was the only language the plebs understood!

  She packed up the report and a few other things and set off to report to the king. She walked through the long, wide corridors of the palace and knocked on the door. Then she entered. It was not His Majesty's study, but his chambers. The king had fallen ill a few days ago and was currently bedridden. His Highness was lying on a large bed under a high canopy. "I apologise for disturbing you, Your Majesty, but I have something to tell you that is of the utmost importance." The lord opened his eyelids and then sat up. "What is it?" The advisor then told her master about the problems in the kingdom. He listened to her with a fixed gaze.

  After she had finished, he spoke: "It was unwise of us to allow the situation to come to such a head. I believe that it would have been wiser to adjust our handling of the Melgarists and at least temporarily tolerate their practices." Upon hearing this, Gabriela contorted her face in disapproval. "Nevertheless, there’s no use to cry over spilled milk. Hindsight is always easier than foresight. The only option under these circumstances is to put down the riots. I hereby authorise you to take the appropriate measures." - "Thank you, Your Majesty!" the lady thanked him. But then she looked suspiciously at the king's right hand. "You’re still wearing this ancient relic?" she emphasised, referring to the signet ring on his finger. His Highness replied in a rough but calm voice: "Yes. This object represents a link to the country's past. Even if the ideology of the person who once used it does not coincide with mine, its continued use signals continuity. Passing the torch is necessary to establish the legitimacy of rule."

  Then the old man coughed. It was a terrible, sickly cough. His Majesty's face was also horribly pale and marked by illness. He had had a pale expression before, but now it had become really unsightly. But Gabriela contradicted the sovereign's previous statement! "Your Highness, your legitimacy comes from the will of God as interpreted by the Alethic Church. Preserving the remnants of a past empire and its ideology runs counter to that." - "But this ideology doesn't seem to be quite as past as you call it, my dearest!" the king replied snappishly. "And Alethism didn't make this empire great or even create it. That was the Melgarions!" Gabriela preferred not to respond to this. She took her leave and stepped out of the chambers of His Majesty Maximilian I again.

  It had recently become a little warmer and the snow in the area had melted, turning the roads and paths into rivers of mud. It had been an exhausting day. Today Wenzel had practised sword fighting and spear fighting together with magic again. Exhausted, he sank into his bed after sunset. It was Brahm’s turn to keep watch outside. In the middle of the night, however, he was abruptly woken from his sleep by loud cries. The lad jumped up and ran out of the door without shoes, wearing only socks. Ferenc had also woken up and followed the man he was protecting wherever he went. It was pitch dark outside once again, but the two of them were not deterred and walked round the corner to the back of the house where the noises had come from. What they found was within the range of what could be expected, but still unusual.

  Brahm was standing here, holding his left arm. A cloaked man lay on the ground in front of him. The two ignored the person on the ground and asked Brahm how he was. He replied: "I don't know. I need something to stop the bleeding!" Ferenc quickly fetched a scrap of cloth, which he tore into smaller pieces and used to bandage his colleague's wound. In the house, they looked at it again by candlelight. It wasn't pretty, but Brahm would definitely keep his life and his arm. A deep scar would remain, though. He also had a scratch on his face and a few other places. Only then did they inspect the body of the slain man. There wasn't much to note here that was relevant. He was not one of them. The only thing that mattered was the fact that the regime was apparently trying to smuggle assassins into the camp to eliminate Wenzel. A difficult endeavour. Certainly, a few adjustments to the security of the camp would now be made to prevent this from happening in the future. Hence, another of their enemies' plans had failed. But it would certainly not be the last. The war was only just beginning now.