Snow drifted slowly across the western frontier of Elarion.

The mountains stood silent beneath dark gray skies while freezing winds swept through the valleys separating the southern coalition from the northern industrial city that had defied noble authority for nearly a year.

And now—

War had finally arrived.

A true army had come north.

Nearly a hundred thousand men under the banners of the southern coalition now occupied the valleys below the Elarion frontier.

Campfires stretched endlessly across the snow-covered plains like stars fallen upon the earth itself.

Mana cavalry waited beside armored warbeasts. Mage detachments reinforced command sectors. Siege engines stood positioned behind fortified earthworks while supply caravans continued arriving through the southern passes even after sunset.

The scale alone felt overwhelming.

Any ordinary territory would already have surrendered.

But Elarion did not.

Instead—

The city waited behind trenches and steel

At the center of the southern encampment, the command ridge overlooked the entire battlefield.

Rows of noble banners fluttered violently in the mountain wind while officers and attendants moved constantly between command tents carrying reports, maps, and heated wine.

Most nobles remained confident.

Almost excessively so.

To them, this battle still appeared straightforward.

The balance looked obvious.

One younger noble from House Reinmar stood near the ridge edge studying the distant trench lines through a polished spyglass.

Long scars stretched across the frozen valleys ahead:

layered trenches,

reinforced bunkers,

artillery ridges,

razor wire hidden beneath snow.

The noble lowered the spyglass after several moments before scoffing openly.

"They truly intend to defend with dirt."

Several surrounding officers laughed immediately.

Another noble smirked while adjusting his fur-lined cloak.

"At least they saved us the trouble of chasing them through mountains."

More laughter followed.

The coalition officers simply could not understand the trenches.

Because in their world— strength meant visibility.

Mana knights charged openly into battle. Cavalry shattered formations directly. Mages unleashed destruction from elevated positions.

Honor and power were meant to be seen.

But Lucien hid his army underground like miners and laborers.

To southern aristocrats—

That appeared cowardly.

Farther along the ridge, several mana cavalry commanders observed the northern defenses with open contempt.

One knight captain wearing silver mana armor shook his head dismissively.

"These northerners truly believe trenches stop cavalry."

Another laughed.

"Once we breach their first line the rest collapses naturally."

A third commander pointed toward the razor wire fields barely visible beneath the snow.

"What even is that?" "Decorations?"

The surrounding officers chuckled again.

Everything about Elarion’s defenses looked strange to them.

Even the rifles received little respect.

One older battlefield mage leaned against a wooden observation post while studying the northern trench sectors thoughtfully.

"I observed those rifles months ago during early reports."

Several nobles glanced toward him.

"Well?"

The mage shrugged casually.

"Loud." "Slow reload." "Smoke everywhere."

Another noble snorted immediately.

"And inaccurate."

"Yes."

The mage nodded calmly.

"Useful against peasants perhaps." "But against disciplined armies?"

He waved dismissively toward the northern trenches.

"Overrated."

Agreement spread quickly afterward.

One cavalry officer laughed openly.

"These northern fools truly think crude flintlocks replace trained knights."

Another smirked.

"If the weapons improve in another hundred years perhaps they become dangerous."

More amusement followed immediately.

To them— rifles remained crude support weapons.

Interesting. Annoying. Potentially useful.

But nowhere near powerful enough to redefine warfare.

That idea itself sounded absurd.

Only Kassian Valcriox remained silent.

The ducal lord stood near the rear of the ridge watching the battlefield carefully through his spyglass.

Unlike the others—

He noticed details.

No panic inside the trenches. No confused troop movement. No visible fear.

Everything appeared organized.

One allied noble eventually noticed his expression.

"You still distrust this northern lord?"

Kassian lowered the spyglass slowly.

"I distrust enemies who appear calm while heavily outnumbered."

The noble laughed softly.

"They have nowhere left to run."

Another commander folded his arms confidently.

"Tomorrow this war effectively ends."

Kassian said nothing afterward.

Because despite the overwhelming coalition advantage—

Something about the battlefield felt wrong.

Too quiet.

Lucien did not appear like a desperate noble preparing a final defense.

He appeared like a hunter waiting beside a trap.

Far across the frozen valleys, the trenches of Elarion remained almost silent beneath the snowfall.

Thousands of riflemen occupied reinforced firing positions while artillery crews prepared shells along elevated ridge batteries overlooking the battlefield below.

Communication trenches connected every sector carefully through protected routes invisible from southern observation.

The entire defensive network resembled a machine.

Cold. Efficient. Deliberate.

And deep beneath the central command fortress—

Lucien prepared calmly for war.

The underground command bunker remained active throughout the morning.

Oil lamps illuminated massive operational maps spread across reinforced tables while officers moved continuously between communication stations carrying reports from every trench sector.

Malen stood beside the western operational map reviewing artillery placements.

"Southern siege positions finalized."

Another officer added:

"Mana cavalry concentrated across eastern valley sectors." "Likely intended breakthrough route."

Cedric crossed his arms nearby while glancing toward Lucien.

"So." "It finally begins"

Lucien remained focused on the battlefield map.

"Yes."

Several artillery commanders waited nearby expectantly.

Because technically—

Elarion already possessed the range advantage.

Their steel field cannons could begin bombardment immediately.

The southern armies remained densely packed while establishing camp fortifications.

An ideal target.

One artillery officer finally stepped forward carefully.

"My lord." "The enemy siege formations are fully within range."

Another added quietly:

"A concentrated barrage now could inflict significant casualties."

Lucien remained silent for several moments afterward.

Then finally answered:

"No."

The room sharpened slightly.

The officers exchanged confused glances.

Cedric immediately understood first.

A small grin appeared across his face.

"You want them comfortable."

Lucien nodded once.

"Yes."

If Elarion revealed its true artillery capability immediately:

the southern coalition would adapt,

formations would spread,

commanders would become cautious,

cavalry assaults would lose confidence.

Lucien wanted the opposite.

He wanted arrogance preserved.

Malen slowly understood as well.

"We intentionally underperform."

"Yes."

Lucien’s finger moved across the operational map toward the southern artillery sectors.

"Fire slowly." "Stagger reloads." "Reduce coordinated volleys."

Several artillery officers looked almost physically uncomfortable hearing the orders.

Because every gunner present knew their cannons could do far more.

One younger officer hesitated briefly before speaking.

"My lord... we could devastate their camp formations now."(it means the enemy camps are also within their effective firing range)

Lucien finally looked toward him.

"And then they become careful."

Silence followed immediately.

Because that answer made perfect sense.

Lucien continued calmly:

"The south still believes:

rifles are crude,

trenches are weakness,

and our artillery is experimental."

His gaze shifted toward the battlefield above them.

"Let them continue believing it."

Outside across the northern ridge lines, artillery crews received the revised firing instructions.

Many looked confused initially.

"Reduce firing rhythm?" "Delay reload cycles?" "Intentionally widen calibration?"

One older artillery captain finally muttered quietly:

"The lord is feeding them confidence."

That realization spread gradually through the gun crews afterward.

And honestly—

It was brilliant.

Because noble armies fought differently when arrogant.

They packed formations tighter. Advanced more aggressively. Committed elite forces earlier.

Lucien intended to weaponize southern pride against them.

By midday—

The first thunder began.

Southern siege engines opened fire across the valleys.

Massive enchanted catapults launched burning projectiles high through the gray skies while battlefield mages unleashed explosive mana strikes toward the northern trenches.

BOOM.

The mountains trembled violently.

Explosions tore across outer trench sectors as dirt, snow, and shattered timber erupted skyward.

Another barrage followed.

Then another.

The frozen battlefield vanished gradually beneath smoke and fire.

Inside the southern command ridge, nobles watched the bombardment with satisfaction.

One commander smiled coldly while observing exploding trench sectors through his spyglass.

"Now this resembles proper warfare."

Another noble pointed toward collapsing earthworks.

"They’ll break before infantry even advances."

The bombardment continued relentlessly afterward.

Flaming siege stones smashed against trench fortifications while mana explosions scarred the frozen earth across the defensive lines.

And honestly—

The bombardment was dangerous.

Several Elarion soldiers died during the first hour. Outer trench sectors suffered heavy damage. Communication tunnels collapsed partially in two western sectors.

But the trenches endured.

Because Lucien had never intended them to appear impressive.

Deep beneath the bombardment, underground reinforcement teams moved continuously through protected tunnels carrying necessary supplies.

Engineers repaired damaged trench walls almost immediately after impacts.

Reserve rifle squads rotated calmly between sectors.

The system functioned exactly as designed.

Then finally—

Elarion answered.

Northern artillery batteries thundered from the ridge lines overlooking the valleys.

Steel cannons erupted across the mountains while smoke blasted from reinforced firing bunkers.

But unlike the devastating industrial bombardment the guns truly possessed—

The firing appeared slow.

One cannon fired.

Then another several moments later.

Reload crews moved deliberately. Spotters corrected aim slowly. Several shells landed harmlessly wide.

From the southern observation ridges—

It looked unimpressive.

One coalition noble immediately laughed.

"That is their famous artillery?"

Another watched a northern shell explode far behind southern infantry staging zones.

"Terrible accuracy."

More amusement spread rapidly afterward.

A mana knight commander shook his head dismissively.

"And they expected these toys to challenge noble armies?"

Even the battlefield mages appeared unimpressed now.

One older mage observed the northern cannons carefully before scoffing.

"Their reload speed is pathetic."

Exactly as Lucien intended.

Kassian continued observing silently through his spyglass.

And yet—

Something still bothered him.

The artillery truly did appear slower than expected.

Less organized. Less precise.

But the trench systems themselves still remained unnervingly calm.

No disorder. No visible desperation.

That contradiction unsettled him.

One allied commander noticed his expression again.

"You still look unconvinced."

Kassian lowered the spyglass slowly.

"I dislike when enemies behave differently from expectations."

The noble smirked.

"Perhaps the reports exaggerated Elarion."

Maybe.

But Kassian no longer trusted assumptions.

Too many nobles had underestimated Lucien already.

And every mistake strengthened Elarion further.

Hours passed beneath continuing bombardment.

Snow mixed with smoke across the valleys while artillery fire echoed endlessly through the mountains.

By late afternoon—

The coalition commanders had grown significantly more relaxed.

Elarion’s defenses looked resilient— but their artillery now appeared overrated.

Crude.

Experimental.

Even the rifles remained silent most of the day.

That silence reassured the nobles further.

One commander eventually declared confidently:

"The northerners rely entirely on fear and rumors."

Another nodded.

"Tomorrow we begin proper assaults."

Agreement spread immediately afterward.

Several mana cavalry officers even began arguing over who would claim the honor of leading the first breakthrough attack.

Kassian remained silent through all of it.

Because despite appearances—

The battlefield still felt wrong to him.

Far beneath the northern fortress, Lucien listened calmly as updated intelligence reports arrived from observers monitoring the southern ridge.

"Coalition confidence increasing." "Enemy formations tightening." "Mana cavalry commanders requesting early engagement tomorrow."

Cedric grinned slightly afterward.

"They swallowed it completely."

Lucien nodded once.

"Yes."

Malen studied the battlefield map thoughtfully.

"They believe our artillery is inaccurate."

"Good."

Outside above the bunker, northern cannons continued firing deliberately staggered shots into the valleys.

Still slow. Still inefficient. Still unimpressive.

A performance.

Nothing more.

And across the battlefield—

The southern coalition never realized that the enemy they mocked was quietly shaping the battle before it had even begun.