A trembling man stepped out of the carriage and looked around at the towering walls.

Iron-Scale walked down the steps to meet him. "You test our walls with fire, and then you ride here to talk. Explain."

The man kept his hands raised in surrender. "That attack was not mine. I govern this border region, and we are the ones suffering the immediate fallout of this conflict. My people are bleeding resources, and those scouts belonged to a neighboring faction trying to provoke you."

"Where is Voranthar?" Iron-Scale asked, drawing a dagger.

"He is not with us," he stammered, his eyes locked on the blade. "He bypassed the outer towns entirely. Voranthar and his mages are secured deep within the Tarnstead capital. The inner rulers are using my lands as a buffer to absorb your retaliation. They expect us to die first."

Rubedo listened to the conversation from his sanctuary. The fractured coalition was deliberately sacrificing its outer edges to buy time for the capital.

Tarnstead consisted of more than ten massive kingdoms, and the central rulers clearly had no intention of protecting their borders.

"They want us to waste our time and energy burning through the border towns," Rubedo told Iron-Scale. "They are using their own people as a meat shield to exhaust our supply lines."

Iron-Scale lowered his dagger slightly. "Do we kill him?"

"No," Rubedo replied, watching the man flinch. "We use him. The central kings abandoned his territory. We will give him a reason to open his gates for us."

Iron-Scale looked down at the trembling man in the courtyard. "You have been abandoned by your capital. If you want to survive the coming days, you will provide us with an unobstructed path through your territory."

The man hastily reached inside his coat and pulled out a thick roll of parchment. He offered it to Iron-Scale with shaking hands.

"This details the shift changes and blind spots along my borders. It maps the terrain leading directly into the neighboring territories. You can move your forces right through my lands without sounding a single alarm."

Rubedo watched the exchange from his sanctuary. "Take the map and send him back," Rubedo spoke directly to Iron-Scale. "We are not marching the Vanguard yet. We are still in the planning phase, and I will not overextend our supply lines into unfamiliar terrain. But we can absolutely use those routes to light a fire."

Iron-Scale snatched the parchment and gestured toward the open gates. The man scrambled back into his carriage, and the horses galloped away across the plains.

Iron-Scale carried the map into the main hall and unrolled it across the stone table.

Krax leaned over the parchment, studying the marked patrol routes. "If we are not invading, why did we want his blind spots?"

"Because Tarnstead is already fracturing under the weight of Voranthar’s refugees," Rubedo explained, his voice echoing clearly to his commanders. "The ten kings are turning on each other. If we apply the right pressure, they will tear themselves apart before we even cross the border. Krax, take a small detachment. Leave your Vanguard armor here. Arm yourselves exclusively with the weapons we scavenged from the Aethelgard ruins."

Krax caught on immediately. He grinned and pushed himself away from the table. He spent the next hour gathering fifty of his most agile fighters.

They stripped off their heavy Vanguard plating and equipped themselves with dented Aethelgard breastplates and rusted broadswords salvaged from the destroyed city.

Under the cover of darkness, Krax led his strike force out of the obsidian base. They moved swiftly across the tall grass of the plains, strictly following the safe routes detailed on the parchment.

They bypassed the nervous border patrols entirely, slipping through the designated blind spots and crossing into the adjacent Tarnstead territory.

This specific region belonged to a fiercely independent king who had explicitly refused to shelter Voranthar’s surviving mages.

Krax navigated a dense pine forest until he spotted the glow of torches ahead. He signaled his fighters to halt and crouched behind a thick embankment.

A massive logistical depot sat in the clearing below. Dozens of wooden wagons loaded with winter grain and salted meat were parked in neat rows.

A garrison of Tarnstead soldiers patrolled the perimeter, completely unaware that an enemy force had bypassed their border defenses.

Krax drew a heavy Aethelgard broadsword. He did not bother summoning his elemental aura. He simply pointed the stolen blade toward the supply depot and charged down the embankment.

The raid was fast and brutal. Krax slammed into the first guard, driving the pommel of his sword into the man’s helmet. His fighters swarmed the clearing, overwhelming the Tarnstead garrison before they could properly form a defensive line.

They moved with lethal precision, targeting the guards while deliberately leaving the actual supplies intact.

Krax parried a spear thrust and kicked the defender into a stack of crates. He drove his broadsword deep into the wood right next to the fallen soldier’s head. He left the weapon embedded in the crate, a highly visible calling card bearing the royal crest of Aethelgard.

His fighters followed his lead. They dropped Aethelgard shields, discarded dented helmets, and left broken broadswords scattered across the clearing.

They ensured the surviving Tarnstead soldiers caught clear glimpses of the Aethelgard armor before retreating into the tree line.

Krax led his men back through the forest, retracing his steps along the safe route. They slipped back across the border without engaging a single patrol.

The trap was perfectly set. By dawn, the neighboring king would receive reports that Voranthar’s desperate refugees had violently raided his supply lines to feed themselves.

Rubedo watched Krax return to the base on his monitor. The false flag operation would force the Tarnstead coalition to turn their blades inward, doing the Vanguard’s work for them.

"The king who committed ‌treason didn’t convert his faith. But the god he serves must be aware of what he has done. And as a fellow god, if my follower committed such treason, death wouldn’t be their end. So... if the god the king serves doesn’t react now, it is safe to assume that they are unavailable. And if that happens, I won’t have to worry about them. I will order my army to march without care."