Snowstorms swept across the western frontier as thousands of workers, soldiers, and engineers flooded the northern passes.

Elarion had begun transforming the border itself into a fortress.

The order spread through Elarion before sunrise.

Every regiment commander. Every engineering corps officer. Every industrial supervisor.

One command.

Prepare for war.

And Lucien intended to make certain the enemy never reached Elarion itself

Inside Fortress Elarion, the central war chamber remained active deep into the night while massive maps covered nearly every wall.

The southern invasion estimates rested directly at the center table:

8 mana cavalry regiments,

14 mana-armored infantry regiments,

12,000 conventional cavalry,

60,000 infantry levies,

battlefield mage detachments,

siege assets still assembling.

Enough force to crush most northern territories completely.

Cedric studied the reports silently.

"Well."

He looked toward Lucien.

"That’s an actual army."

"No," Lucien answered calmly.

"It’s a feudal army."

The room quieted slightly.

Because somehow—

Those words sounded dismissive.

Malen folded his arms nearby.

"You have a plan."

Lucien stepped toward the frontier maps.

"Yes."

Then he pointed toward the western mountain approaches leading into Elarion territory.

"These roads decide the war."

The officers immediately focused.

The western passes were narrow. Frozen. Mountainous.

Perfect defensive terrain.

And Lucien intended to make them hell.

"Begin full trench construction."

Several officers immediately began writing orders.

"Layered defensive lines across all western approaches." "Anti-cavalry obstacles." "Underground supply bunkers." "Reinforced artillery positions."

Cedric blinked.

"...You already planned this."

"Yes."

Honestly not surprising anymore.

Lucas studied the map carefully afterward.

"You’re not defending Elarion city itself."

"No."

Lucien’s finger moved toward the frontier mountain corridors.

"We stop them here."

Far from the factories. Far from the industrial heartland.

The strategy became obvious immediately.

Force the southern army into narrow kill zones.

Then destroy them through:

artillery,

rifle fire,

trenches, 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

and attrition.

Malen slowly nodded afterward.

"They’ll bleed themselves trying to advance."

"Yes."

Within days the western frontier transformed completely.

Thousands of workers arrived under military escort while excavation equipment rolled through the snow-covered valleys.

Entire forests disappeared beneath logging operations. Stone bunkers emerged across ridge lines. Artillery positions carved directly into mountain slopes.

And most shocking of all—

The trenches.

Long defensive scars spread across the frozen frontier like wounds across the earth itself.

Deep. Layered. Reinforced.

Connected through:

communication tunnels,

supply routes,

hidden artillery positions,

and protected ammunition depots.

Even veteran soldiers stared uneasily at the growing defenses.

Because this no longer resembled medieval warfare.

Malen rode across the frontier construction lines beneath freezing winds while engineers worked day and night around him.

"Reinforce the western trench walls!" "Move the artillery platforms higher!" "Expand the secondary firing lines!"

The peak knight stopped near one newly completed defensive sector afterward.

Rows of sharpened anti-cavalry stakes covered the frozen ground ahead of the trenches.

Behind them:

machine gun emplacements under construction,

artillery bunkers,

rifle firing positions,

and reinforced command dugouts.

Then workers began unrolling massive coils of razor wire across the snow.

One older knight nearby frowned deeply.

"...What even is that?"

An engineer answered proudly:

"Steel entanglement wire."

The knight looked disturbed already.

"It looks evil."

"Correct."

The razor wire spread endlessly across the frontier approaches afterward:

layered,

hidden beneath snow,

reinforced with steel stakes.

Cavalry would never charge through it cleanly.

Infantry would become trapped beneath rifle fire.

And that was exactly the point.

Farther behind the trench network—

Heavy artillery positions expanded continuously.

The twenty field cannons of the First Rifle Regiment now overlooked the main western approach from reinforced mountain bunkers.

Additional artillery followed daily from Elarion factories.

Coal arrived constantly. Ammunition stockpiles expanded. Supply depots buried themselves beneath stone and steel.

Elarion was not preparing for a battle anymore.

It was preparing for a campaign.

Deep within the frontier command bunker, Cedric stared at the growing defensive plans spread across the operations table.

"...This is excessive."

Lucien calmly reviewed artillery deployment schedules.

"No."

Cedric pointed toward one section of the trench network.

"You built three fallback defense lines."

"Yes."

"And hidden reserve artillery positions."

"Yes."

"And overlapping machine gun sectors."

Lucien looked up briefly.

"Yes."

Cedric slowly rubbed his forehead.

"You’re building a meat grinder."

Silence.

Then Lucien answered calmly:

"If the south insists on war..."

His eyes shifted toward the western frontier maps.

"...then we ensure they pay for every meter."

The room grew quiet afterward.

Because nobody there doubted him anymore.

Later that evening, Aurethar landed atop one of the frontier ridges while snowstorms swept across the growing trench systems below.

For several moments the ancient golden dragon simply stared.

Miles of trenches stretched across the frozen valleys beneath him. Steel wire glinted beneath the snow. Artillery bunkers hid among the mountain cliffs.

Even Aurethar looked impressed.

"...You turned the frontier into a fortress."

Lucien stood beside the ridge command position calmly.

"Yes."

The dragon observed the defenses quietly.

Then finally:

"The south expects glorious battles."

Far below, workers continued digging through the frozen earth beneath lantern light while artillery crews reinforced firing platforms.

Lucien’s gaze remained fixed toward the southern horizon.

"They won’t get one."

And somewhere far to the south—

The nobles preparing their grand invasion still imagined:

cavalry charges,

knight breakthroughs,

heroic warfare.

They still did not understand.

The western frontier was becoming a machine built for killing armies.