Shaela's Inn in Tihany Town.

I am having a war conference with 6 people. Commander in chief of this campaign, Brian Haddock. Leader of dark elves, Riheet Tirvac. Strategist, Cass Brankovic. Albert Hyuutia, the leader of North Dioral forces, Noir Virginia, the leader of former Castall nobles. Leonhardt Strauch, the head of the archery division. 

Over 5,000 trained soldiers have been successfully relocated from southern Castall to various villages in the central region. Meanwhile, 15,000 lowly trained volunteer soldiers are placed along the garrison. The purpose is to discourage the enemies from invading the regions we have subjugated by intimidating them via sheer numbers.

As we have taken over this strategic town and twelve other villages in the central region, Cass had gradually relocated trained soldiers to those locations. 

Other reasons are to cut food supplies for the central forces. Those villages rear sheep, cows, chickens as well as fruits, wheats and vegetables. 

The enemies had sent many spearhead forces to retake the villages and we defeated every single of them. 

The remaining Margrave Sigismund Jagiellon and Count Erakis's forces are estimated to be around 2,000. However, lately there have been hundreds of men sent from the south as their reinforcements. Based on their equipment, they should be professional soldiers. 

In my previous world, there was a concept of professional soldiers and reserve soldiers. Professional soldiers are highly trained and serve on full time basis while reserve soldiers are only trained periodically and work in the outside world as civilians. 

Likewise, this universe, at least in Thedas continent, operates on the same logic. 

Usually 1% of the whole population are trained soldiers while another 9%  are conscripted soldiers. 

The difference between reserve soldiers in my previous world and the conscripted soldiers is in my original world, military participation is usually voluntary. In contrast to that, conscripted soldiers are serfs living in the demesne of nobles who usually work in the farms but are forced to fight in wars. In Redcliffe, conscripted soldiers are called militias.

However, the over 15,000 volunteer soldiers offer themselves voluntarily. They are willing to go that far to free themselves from Castall tyrants. Like the dark elves, they fight to avenge their dead family members and past oppression.

However, the war council had decided not to put their lives in too much danger.

"I agree with Cass. It is a waste if we turn them into cannon fodder." That was what I said earlier.

 The untrained and poorly equipped villagers shall only be used as the last resort.

What's our next course of action. We discussed that in depth.

Cass presented her plan.

Leonhardt Strauch argued, "Deeper into the central region, there are thirty six small fortresses and even more redoubts scattered around them."

Brian Haddock said, "Even with the current southern reinforcements, our force still outnumbers them. But with them fighting ranged battle behind walls, our number means nothing."

Noir Virginia added, "If our large force go in between the fortress, we shall be trapped and ambushed from all directions."

Riheet said, "They could even trace any movement within their range. So, sending small squads are also futile."

Cass listened calmly and replied, "That's why we shall go stealthily. Slowly. We take over fort nearest to us. No. We patiently kill their men one by one."

Albert Hyuutia questioned, "And how are we going to do that?"

***

The man lit the lantern that hung at his waist. It used a special oil for fuel, which produced a green flame, and it gave off a creepy-looking light which illuminated the surroundings.

He stepped outside of the redoubt that could fit ten men, and felt as though he were walking into a wall of heat. A look of distaste crossed the man’s face, but the season had always been hot to begin with, and nothing could be done about it. Around this period, every place in the Castall Kingdom was still muggy and unpleasant, even after sunset. That said, the time of harsh heat was gone, and the temperature ought to go down as time went by.

Still, there was no sign that it was changing for the cooler.

“Ah, today was hot too.”

“Yeah. I heard that it’s cooler up north.” the man grumbled. His partner for tonight replied:

“If only there were some rain. That would take the edge off the heat.”

He looked to the sky as he said that. The sky was clear; there were no clouds in the sky, to say nothing of rain clouds. The constellations seemed abnormally large, but it was simply the usual night sky.

“Yeah, some rain would be good."

It  would not be quite right to describe these men as ordinary villagers. For starters, they were armed. They wore leather armor and had long swords at their waist; far too militarized for ordinary village guards. In addition, their faces and bodies did not look like those of farmers, but hinted at a familiarity with violence.

Several hundred meters from that position in their left and right, there are similar small structures with an equal number of men guarding.

There are even forts and villages here and there within the plain. 

The two of them walked around their redoubt without a sound.

Shrouded in night, the fortresses and redoubts were silent except for their footsteps. They pressed forward steadily amidst this sinister atmosphere, as though nothing else lived here. Their calm attitudes suggested that patrols like these were daily business for them.

The fortress they walked past by was surrounded by a three meters wall, and there were four watchtowers within sight. They looked sturdy and well-built; even frontier villages which were frequently attacked by beasts would not boast such formidable watchtowers.

However, for someone used to wars, such structures were considered small. The reason for their resilience was the numbers of such small defensive structures scattered throughout the central region.

The men walking past the forts felt someone looking at them from a watchtower. The fact was that there were bow-armed men on the towers. All he needed to do was raise his lantern high in case of an emergency, and his friends would come to his aid.

That said, when he thought about his colleague’s skills, the man was not very excited about having them support him with arrow shots. However, he was greatly reassured by the fact that his friends could wake all their comrades by ringing the alarm bell.

His colleagues — who were sleeping between shifts — would give him an earful if he raised his lantern by mistake. However, the man was determined to wave it at the merest sign that something was wrong.

He did not wish to lose his life over a small matter.

That said, he did not actually think anything bad would happen. They had been performing the same patrols for several months, and he imagined that these patrols would carry on forever.

As he considered his future with distaste, the man continued his slow walk across the meadow down his fixed route.

Halfway through his patrol, suddenly a cold and sharp object touched the man’s neck. 

Right after it moved along his neck, searing pain blossomed over his exposed throat. This sequence of actions took less than a second.

A gurgling sound, like that of drinking, came from his throat.

That was the last sound the man would ever hear in his life.