CHAPTER 47: STRATEGIC MINDS

The pre-dawn air was crisp as Arthur made his way to the officer’s training grounds. Unlike the main courtyard where regular soldiers drilled, this smaller space was reserved for Lyranth’s military leadership—and right now, Darien Hawklight was putting a group of captains through advanced formation drills.

"No, no, NO!" Hawklight’s voice cut through the morning. "If you’re flanked by orc berserkers, standard shield wall won’t hold. You need the modified wedge with—" He stopped mid-sentence, sensing Arthur’s approach. "Your Majesty."

The captains immediately saluted, but Arthur noticed how Hawklight’s hand instinctively moved to Flamestrike’s hilt—not in threat, but in the automatic readiness of a career soldier.

"Don’t let me interrupt," Arthur said. "Actually, Commander Hawklight, perhaps a practical demonstration? It’s been a while since we’ve tested each other."

Hawklight’s scarred face showed a hint of smile. "With respect, Your Majesty, our last ’test’ ended with me unconscious and the training ground destroyed."

"I’ve gotten better at control," Arthur assured him. The captains were already backing away, giving them space. "Besides, I need to discuss something with you, and I think better when I’m moving."

That got Hawklight’s attention. The commander was Arthur’s primary strategic mind—if the king wanted to discuss something during combat, it meant military matters.

"Standard rules then," Hawklight said, drawing Flamestrike. The enchanted blade hummed with barely contained fire. "I’ll use everything I’ve got. You try not to break anything important."

They circled each other slowly. Despite Arthur’s supernatural advantages, Hawklight had something the king respected—decades of real combat experience and a tactical mind that could process battlefield variables faster than any system interface.

Hawklight struck first, but it wasn’t the wild charge of a warrior. It was a calculated probe, testing Arthur’s current reaction speed while keeping his weight centered for instant repositioning. Arthur deflected with his bare hand, noting how Flamestrike’s enchantment had grown stronger—proximity to his power was enhancing all of Lyranth’s magical weapons.

"You’ve been practicing with Krag," Arthur observed, recognizing the dwarven influence in Hawklight’s modified stance.

"The Heroes have been sharing techniques," Hawklight confirmed, flowing into a complex pattern that mixed three different sword schools. "Figured if we’re planning expansion, I should learn to counter every fighting style on the continent."

Arthur moved through the attacks with inhuman grace, but he was actually impressed. Hawklight wasn’t trying to match his supernatural speed—he was predicting where Arthur would be and attacking those spaces. It was the difference between a warrior and a strategist.

"Speaking of expansion," Arthur said, catching Flamestrike between his palms mid-swing, "my morning meditations revealed something interesting."

He released the blade and gestured. His system interface materialized, visible to Hawklight—a sign of deep trust. A detailed topographical map appeared in the air.

"Bloodfang Stronghold," Hawklight identified immediately, not even pausing his assault. "Orc fortification. Controls the Ironspike Pass."

"Currently at half strength," Arthur added, sidestepping a thrust that would have punctured mythril armor. "Their chieftain took his elite guard to handle a succession challenge. They have maybe three hundred defenders, mostly younger warriors without battle experience."

Hawklight’s tactical mind was already working. He shifted to defensive stance—when Arthur shared intelligence, you paid attention.

"Three hundred green orcs in a mountain stronghold," the commander mused. "Traditional siege would cost us. But with your abilities..."

"That’s what I wanted to discuss." Arthur demonstrated by releasing a controlled pulse of his aura. The captains watching from the sidelines went pale, fighting the instinctive urge to kneel. "How would you use this in a tactical situation?"

Hawklight weathered the supernatural pressure better than most, but sweat beaded on his forehead. "Psychological warfare. Hit them at dawn when they’re changing guard shifts. Your presence breaks their morale before we even engage. Then—"

He suddenly lunged, using Arthur’s demonstration as cover for an attack. It was exactly the kind of tactical thinking Arthur valued. He rewarded it by letting the blade get within an inch of his throat before phasing partially out of existence.

"Lustborn Intangibility," Arthur explained as Flamestrike passed through his neck harmlessly. "New ability. Continue your assessment."

Hawklight pulled back, eyes calculating. "Right. So you break their spirit, I position our forces at three points—main gate as distraction, climbing teams on the north wall where their watchtower has that blind spot, and a reserve force hidden for when they inevitably try to retreat through the back passes."

"Casualties?"

"With you demoralizing them first? Maybe a dozen wounded, no deaths if we execute properly." Hawklight paused. "Unless you’re thinking bigger?"

Arthur smiled. "What if we didn’t just take the stronghold? What if we converted it—orcs and all?"

The commander lowered his sword completely. "You want to recruit them? Orcs?"

"Think about it strategically." Arthur pulled up more detailed intelligence on his interface. "Orc berserkers enhanced by my power, loyal through supernatural influence rather than fear. They know every mountain pass, every hidden trail. And politically..."

"It sends a message," Hawklight finished. "That you’re not just another human king claiming territory. You’re something else entirely. Something that can make even orcs kneel willingly."

"Exactly."

They resumed sparring, but now it was more dance than duel—both men using the physical activity to fuel their planning.

"We’d need translators," Hawklight noted between strikes. "Someone who speaks Orcish. And a show of force that demonstrates power without massacre. Orcs respect strength but they’re not stupid—they’ll serve if they see benefit."

"The system indicates potential for a new unit type if we successfully integrate them," Arthur revealed. "Enhanced orc berserkers. Imagine them as shock troops."

Hawklight actually shuddered. "Gods. Orcs are already terrifying in close combat. With your enhancements..."

"We’d need two hundred of our best," Arthur decided. "Small enough to move fast, large enough to hold the stronghold once taken. Who would you recommend leading the climbing teams?"

This was why Arthur valued Hawklight—the man didn’t just think tactics, he thought logistics.

"Captain Morris for the climbers, she trained in the Skyreach Mountains. Veteran Sergeant Klaus for the main gate distraction—man could sell water to a fish. And..." Hawklight hesitated.

"What?"

"I’d recommend asking Elliott to join this one. His Brightblade swordsmanship would be perfect for the confined spaces of mountain fighting. Plus..." The commander chose his words carefully. "He’s been restless since you deepened things with his sister. Might be good to give him something to focus on."

Arthur considered this. Elliott Brightblade—Beatrice’s protective older brother and Arthur’s former bodyguard—had indeed been struggling with the complex dynamics of his sister calling Arthur "big brother" while being in an intimate relationship with him.

"Good thinking. Combat has a way of clarifying loyalties." Arthur ended their spar by simply catching Hawklight’s next strike barehanded, stopping the enchanted blade cold. "Three nights from now. New moon."

"I’ll have the troops ready." Hawklight sheathed Flamestrike. "One question, Your Majesty. Why tell me about this during sparring?"

Arthur grinned. "Because you think better under pressure. And because I wanted to see if you’d try to use my demonstrations against me. That opportunistic strike when I released my aura? That’s exactly the kind of tactical thinking we’ll need against the Eastern Coalition."

Hawklight actually looked pleased. Coming from Arthur, that was high praise.

"Also," Arthur added as he turned to leave, "start thinking beyond just this stronghold. If we’re successful, this becomes our model for expansion. Quick strikes, psychological dominance, conversion rather than destruction. We’re not trying to rule ashes."

"Empire building, not kingdom raiding," Hawklight understood. "I’ll draw up preliminary plans for the neighboring territories."

As Arthur left, his system chimed softly:

**[Strategic Synergy Detected]**

- Commander Hawklight’s tactical planning enhanced by 15%

- New expansion doctrine developing

- Bloodfang Stronghold marked as priority target

Perfect. With Hawklight’s military genius enhanced by supernatural power, they’d build an empire the continent had never seen.

The war room felt different at night. Enchanted crystals cast sharp shadows across the tactical maps spread over the massive oak table, and Arthur could sense the nervous energy from his assembled commanders before he even entered.

"Your Majesty," they chorused, rising as he walked in. Hawklight stood at the head of the table, Flamestrike resting against his chair. The other key players were already present—Captain Morris, whose weathered face spoke of years scaling mountain peaks; Veteran Sergeant Klaus, whose easy smile had talked his unit out of more bad situations than anyone could count; and Elliott Brightblade, who stood stiffly near the door like he was ready to bolt.