The Battle of Emberpeak

 

"General, word from the eastern front!" The officer strode into the command tent, armor still dusted with the grime of travel. "Our rallying call has been answered- reinforcements are on the march."

A slight nod came in response as steel blue eyes remained fixed on the campaign map laid out before the Steel Legion General. "Our people have always answered the call. And the vanguard?"

The officer hesitated. "A victory in the west... but our northern line has been hit hard. We've secured key positions, controlling the mountain would put the Syndicate is on the back foot."

The General's head rose and he turned to face his reporting officer. "The tide is turning- prepare the troops. The Syndicate reached the crest three days ago and are surely establishing positions there, but whatever they have started... it will fall tomorrow."

--

At Emberpeak battle raged across the frigid slopes, the roar of war blending with the crackle of lightning in the air as rain began to fall. Blades rang against armor as the forces of the Steel Legion pressed forward, their relentless assault driving the Woodland Syndicate back towards the ridges. Smoke and the scent of battle thickened the air.

A Legion's commander raised his blade high, its edges darkened from battle. "Press the advance! The peak will be ours before nightfall!" In a crushing surge, armored warriors pushed forward, and the Syndicate struggled to withstand the relentless advance of the Legion.

Yet across the battlefield, from a perch along the jagged cliffs, the Syndicate Warmaster watched impassively as his cloak swirled about in the rising wind. A smirk curled at the corner of his lips as he turned to his adjutants.

"One of the many things the Steel Legion still doesn’t understand," he mused, "is that wars are won with tactics, not brute force."

As if in answer, a distant rumble rolled through the mountains.

The Legion’s front lines faltered as tremors quaked beneath them. Cries rang out as the slopes above them shifted—loosened by hidden Syndicate saboteurs, who had worked in silence beneath the chaos of battle. A carefully engineered collapse sent rock and fire cascading down, consuming entire squads in an avalanche of destruction. The tide had turned.

The Steel Legion’s once-sure footing quickly became a graveyard of tumbling debris as the mountain shifted and gave way underneath their feet and over their heads. Their advance, as sure as the mountain's mighty base just a few seconds before, likewise crumbled. Not a moment wasted, Syndicate elites quickly sliced forward and wove their way through the disarray, wreaking havoc on the Steel Legion front lines.

By the time the dust settled and the fires dimmed, the banners of the Steel Legion lay tattered amidst the wreckage. As the remnants of the Legion withdrew to regroup, The Syndicate tactician stood atop the ridge, gazing down at the battlefield below. His voice, cool and measured, carried in the wind.

"Strength alone was never going to win you this war."