Arkanos looked over them all—generals, nobles, faithful. Each was a piece in the game, sharpened and placed carefully. His gaze lingered on every face, as if measuring their resolve.

"Akeria builds weapons. So be it. Let them have their muskets and powder. We have unity, purpose, and fire in the belly of our nation." He stood at last, the motion slow and deliberate. His cloak whispered against the stone floor as he rose to his full, commanding height.

"When the banners rise over their walls, when our steel pounds their gates—then they will understand what it means to cross the Empire of Bloodbane." He placed his hand on the map, resting it over Akeria, his fingers splaying with possessive certainty, as if already claiming the land.

"This... is where the world changes."

They all fixed their eyes on the map—some with clenched jaws, others with eager glints, and a few with shadowed, unreadable gazes.

The map on the table, as wide as a war galley, glowed beneath the early sunlight. Emperor Arkanos stood over it now, one hand resting on the edge, the other hovering above the painted lands of the Akerian Empire. His knuckles whitened, as if he could crush the enemy's capital in his grip.

Beyond the Bloodbane Empire's eastern borders and the far sea stretched a series of jagged hills and cold, rocky plains—harsh and windblasted. This was the Edge of Iron, a buffer region bleeding into the Akerian frontier.

From there, the terrain shifted: fertile valleys flanked by river systems, rich farmland, dense northern forests, and inland swamps that had soaked the feet of invading armies for centuries. Further east rose the Stormcrag Mountains, and nestled within their arms—fortified, proud, and ancient—lay the Akerian capital: Domereth Valas.

"Their lands are varied, but predictable," Arkanos began, his voice smooth but potent. His free hand traced the map's contours with deliberate precision. "Our advantage lies in how we move, not just where. We will not march as a single force. That's what they expect."

"Let us dive into the plan…" He paused, his eyes flicking up to meet Ivan's, a subtle nod urging him forward.

"But first—Ivan, tell them everything in this report. Spare no detail."

All eyes turned to Ivan, still dusted in blood and ash. He stepped forward, his boots scuffing faintly against the stone, shoulders squared despite the weight of fatigue.

"They've changed…" His voice was low, and he rubbed a calloused thumb across his knuckles, grounding himself.

"The Akerians no longer rely on pikes and steel alone. Their soldiers carry strange weapons—wood and metal tubes that spit fire and death with thunder. They call them 'guns,' firing tiny metal projectiles called bullets at high speeds. No armor we wear can stop those rounds at close range."

A stir rippled through the room. Heads turned, hands tightened on sword hilts or table edges.

"And that's not all," Ivan continued, his jaw clenching briefly as he leaned forward, planting both hands on the map. "They've begun using black powder—explosives strong enough to tear through stone walls, collapse towers. Basic for now, but effective in sabotage."

"Worse yet—airships. Crude flying vessels. We encountered several; Abaddon destroyed them all easily, hovering above. Bomb bays, crossbow turrets, signal lanterns. They're slow. Vulnerable to wind and magic. But... a dangerous high ground if left unchecked."

A sharp silence followed. Then General Kael scowled, his weathered fingers drumming impatiently on his sword pommel.

"Airships?" he scoffed. "Floating deathtraps. A lucky mage with a fireball could—"

"They fly higher than you think," Ivan cut in, eyes narrowing as he straightened, arms crossing defiantly. "Beyond the reach of most spell slingers. And with those bombs? They could level a camp in moments."

Seraphine's tone was sharp, her posture stiffening as she tapped a finger on the table's edge. "If they have these, then striking in a traditional siege formation is suicide. We'd be marching straight into gunfire and skies full of fire."

Arkanos nodded once, his lips twitching in a faint, approving smile as he leaned slightly on the map table. "Which is why we will not march at all."

A flick of his hand summoned Sylvana forward, his fingers snapping. She passed her hand across the map, and glowing nodes blinked across the painted landscape of the Akerian Empire.

"We will teleport our armies directly into Akerian territory. We do not give them the time or space to prepare their lines. No long columns on roads. No supply lines exposed to air raids."

Lord Valen Darkmoon narrowed his eyes, tilting his head slightly, a sly glint in his gaze as he tapped a finger against his chin. "You would have us scatter our might across enemy lands?"

"Divide and conquer," Lord Hosaion Thorneveil murmured, more thoughtful than skeptical. His sharp features softened as he stroked his jaw.

"Exactly," Arkanos said, his hand sweeping across the map as if scattering the enemy's defenses with the gesture. "Each army spearhead will appear in a different region of the empire. No pattern. No rhythm. No route to trace. They'll be scrambling to understand if it's a full-scale war or a dozen attacks erupting at once."

Countess Elira Valtorin tapped her gloved fingers on the table, her icy gaze flicking to Arkanos. "What of coordination? We'll be deep in their lands. If one army is surrounded or delayed—"

"Every spearhead is split into sub-units," Arkanos answered, locking eyes with her as he pointed to glowing nodes on the map. "Each with distinct, localized objectives: destroying black powder caches, eliminating airship hangars, assassinating engineers, burning granaries. Small, tactical strikes—easy to achieve, but devastating in combination."

Garik grunted, broad shoulders shifting as he cracked his knuckles, a glint of battle hunger in his eyes. "Death by a thousand cuts."

Sir Tarius Valebright leaned in, chest puffed slightly, pride evident as he rested a hand on the table, fingers splayed. "If we succeed, the Akerian command will be paralyzed. But what of reinforcements? Our units would be too distant to support each other."