Spiritbound [Spirit Magic, Military, Progression] (Book 1 Complete)

Hundreds of soldiers stood in formation, row after row, with their weapons glistening in the sunlight. They stood perfectly still, like statues, while facing the path leading to the main gates of the castle. The captains from the First to the Twenty-Ninth Platoons barked orders, issuing commands one after another as their armor plates rustled. Their armor was similar to the Thirty-First. Each wore a distinct tabard over their iron armor, but there was one minor detail that caught his eye. Unlike the Thirty-First, they all had magic engravings inscribed into their armor just like his.

Tucker silently clenched his fists while maintaining his composure. They had the funds to give everyone but the Thirty-First enchanted armor. It was bullshit, however. Now there was nothing he could do to change it. He needed to meet the commander, and as he drew closer to the gates, the guards saluted him. The castle guards were familiar with his presence and had recognized him the moment he set foot on the stone path. They signalled for the gatekeepers to open the path leading to the commander. The ancient oak doors with iron reinforcement creaked as if waking from their slumber, allowing the light from the outside to enter the solemn chambers of the castle's main compound.

"Captain Welford, the Commander is waiting for your arrival." The guard escorted Tucker up the stairs to the main chambers of the castle. "The other captains have already been debriefed as to what they need to do."

"Is there something I should know?" Tucker asked.

The guard glanced at the watchman through his visor. His heavy armor plates shifted with the slightest movement. Even if he couldn't see his face, Tucker could tell he was making a troubled expression.

"You'll find out when you get there," the guard replied. He gave a nod to the other two guards who were standing beside the grand steel doors leading to the meeting chamber. "Announcing! Captain Welford of the Thirty-First Platoon!"

The doors screeched open as the metal hinges scraped against each other. The guards standing to the side held onto the door handles with one hand and kept their weapons in the other. Tucker stood there with the sunlight piercing through the inner corridors of the castle. He felt the warmth touch his skin and soon stepped forward. The guards saluted him as he entered the chamber, walking on the red velvet carpet that led the way to the center.

A metallic sound entered his ears as the doors shut behind him. He gazed at the Commander, whose face was cold and expressionless. Then, at the young man who was standing an arm's reach away. He could see the man's frown deepen and the tip of his ears turn red beneath his gray hair. His black eyes seemed to be set ablaze from whatever argument they were having, but Tucker didn't care. He needed to find out what the Commander wanted and head back to his men.

"That was my promotion that you gave away!" the man cursed.

"Since when will you grow up, Reynold?" Carl asked while crossing his arms. "A promotion is earned, not a right."

"And you think I didn't earn it?" Reynold's voice seethed with a hint of rage. "I've done everything you asked."

"Doing the bare minimum doesn't build credibility." Carl kept a steady tone and gazed at Reynold with dignified eyes. "What have you done besides what I have said?" Reynold gritted his teeth, confirming Carl's suspicions. "If you wanted to be a captain, then you should have, at the bare minimum, tried to know your men. Instead, you wasted your time fooling around, boasting about your new potential role."

"They're militiamen!" Reynold cried out. "Why should I have to talk to a bunch of commoners—"

Carl clenched his fist and struck Reynold across the face. Blood dripped down the corner of the man's face, yet he remained on his feet, refusing to fall back. "I didn't raise you to care about elitism, and yet you picked up those undesirable traits from the academy."

Reynold scoffed. "Isn't this what you wanted? A son who excelled at everything?"

"If that's what you think, then you learned nothing." Carl's icy gaze met Reynold's fiery eyes. "Get the hell out of my sight."

Reynold clenched his fists and stared at his father. Even though they were the same height, it felt like Carl was looking down on him with eyes devoid of light. As if he were staring at an insect, and the mere thought made his blood boil. "Very well, Commander."

The commander's son took several steps towards the exit, but just as he passed by Tucker, he stopped. "Have fun with your group of trash."

Tucker's eyes shifted and met Reynold's, who seemed to taunt him. Normally, he would let it slide, but the commander's son had made a mistake, one he wouldn't forgive. If Reynold had insulted him, he wouldn't care. However, the commander's son insulted the men who followed him. An act he couldn't simply forgive.

In an instant, a deafening sound rang in Reynold's ears. A chill filled the room, causing the very core of his soul to shake. If there was one thing Tucker learned, it was that intent had more uses than simply striking fear into his enemies. It was to show an inconceivable gap between two entities. One that Reynold clearly understood, as his body broke out in a cold sweat. His breath grew shallow, and a pressure pushed down on him. A force that refused to let go, like a heavy downpour that hammered against his conscience. It was only until a voice cut through the air that he felt the burden disappear.

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"Captain Welford." Carl shook his head. "That's enough."

Tucker nodded before grinning at Reynold. "It's ironic how you look down on those who are better than you."

"You—!"

"Enough!" Carl slammed the palm of his hand on the marble table. The loud bang that filled the room caused Reynold to shut his mouth. "Reynold, now that your business is finished here, you are dismissed. Do not linger here any further! Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sir." Reynold gritted his teeth while glaring at Tucker. "Don't think this is over."

Once the metal doors were closed, Tucker moved closer to the table and stared at the map laid out on the surface. He glanced at the contents. Seven fortress cities surrounded on all sides. Theirs was on the far corner along the southern border, and from what it looked like, they had no reinforcements coming to support them.

"My apologies for that, Captain Welford. I didn't expect him to act like that towards you." Carl released a long and drawn-out sigh while rubbing his eyes. Exhausted, he slumped back into his purple armchair. "As you can tell, things haven't exactly been peaceful around here."

"I can tell. That Reynold guy has an awful character," Tucker said.

"He's my son," Carl pointed out.

"Well, that doesn't change my opinion, now does it?"

"Ha… at least you're honest." Carl took a small booklet from the corner of the table and slid it towards Tucker. "Take a look and give me your input. This is what the other captains discussed in our meeting."

The watchman held the booklet in his hand and skimmed through its contents while flipping through the pages. After several minutes, he frowned. The scouts had detected roughly a hundred and fifty thousand soldiers heading their way. An enormous amount of manpower he had never seen before, but that wasn't the reason he frowned.

"The Empire's war machine isn't heading to our bastion?" Tucker asked.

"It doesn't seem like it from what the scouts have found. Only six have been spotted, and they are heading to all the other bastions." Carl raised his teacup as the swirls of steam danced in the air. "Because of that, it seems like they are trying to launch an attack on all fronts."

"And what was the Kingdom's response?"

"They decided to address the threats accordingly." Carl took a sip of his tea as his eyes gazed off into the distance. The wrinkles on his face seemed to have grown since Tucker had last seen him, and for good reason. This meant that their bastion wasn't going to get reinforcements or supplies.

"Then what's the plan?"

"We hold until the other bastions win their battles."

Tucker sat across from Carl and quietly closed the book. "Our casualties will be devastating."

"I know, but what can we do?" Carl spoke in a whisper, barely maintaining his composure. Each word was trembling, and for the first time, Tucker saw the figure of a man who was held in the highest regard on the verge of collapse.

Tucker needed to choose his next set of questions carefully. There wasn't a point in crying over what had already happened. Instead, he needed answers to help form a solution. "How long do we have?"

"Less than a week until they arrive, and maybe a day or two until they assemble their siege equipment," Carl replied.

"How long do we want to hold the outer wall for?" Tucker gazed at the map of the fortress. They had three lines of defense in total: the outer wall, the inner wall, and the castle itself. Each was valuable in its own right and had advantages and disadvantages.

Carl placed the cup on the table and stared at Tucker. "What do you mean?"

"As injuries increase, it'll be harder to maintain such a large area."

"So you're saying we should abandon the outer walls?" Carl glared at Tucker. "Do you know how ridiculous this sounds?"

"Yes, but they outnumber us five to one. We can't afford to have our men constantly stay on the outer walls against the Empire. It'll be a goddamn meat grinder if we do."

"Then what do you suggest?"

"We hold the walls for two or three days, then fall back to the inner walls." Tucker pointed at several hoardings along the inner wall. "These points hold the barrier artifacts. We can't afford to lose these points, and since the area is more compact, it'll make it harder for the enemy to use their numbers against us."

"We've already considered that, but it would still be a meat grinder, nonetheless."

"Right, but as we hold the outer walls, we should do this." Tucker lifted a pencil from the side and drew several crosses on various roads and bridges.

"You want to destroy these sections of the fortress?" Carl looked at the map in disbelief.

"Only after we've retreated."

"It'll make it harder for our reinforcements to come."

"That's assuming we get any reinforcements at all. Besides, couldn't they use the teleportation platform?" Tucker asked.

Carl shook his head. "No, it would be too risky because there's no telling what's waiting for them on the other side and only a limited amount of people can go through at once. They would have to be insane to try such a thing."

"Then we have no choice. We need to cut down their numbers while preserving our own." Tucker pointed at each mark on the map. "We would also trap each road and passageway that leads to the inner walls."

"It'll take time for the sappers to accomplish that in such a short time."

"I know, but they'll have to do what they can. The last parts they would trap are the main roads after we've reached the inner walls."

Carl took a deep breath, allowing the idea to marinate in his mind for a moment. Rigging the very city they had spent years defending didn't sit well with him, but if it meant they would win the upcoming battles, then it was a price they had to pay. However, he couldn't make such a decision on his own. He needed to speak to his advisors and see what their opinions were on the matter.

"I'll consider your solution. For now, I need to speak to my advisors." Carl grabbed a large brown envelope from the side and slid it towards Tucker. "This is the current battle plan that was discussed during the meeting with the other captains. You'll be working with the Thirtieth platoon and man the seventh bastion along with the adjacent curtains."

"Understood, sir." Tucker rose from his seat as he took the envelope in his hands. He gave a simple salute to Carl, who returned it and soon walked towards the steel doors.

His footsteps echoed off the stone walls as the doors slowly creaked open. Tucker swiftly moved through the corridors, but as the sunlight reflected off the glass windows. His gaze drifted out to the outer walls of the fortress. On paper, the bastions of the Kingdom were impenetrable, but something about the entire situation felt off.

Why would the Empire spread its forces so thin?

It was overly ambitious for them to conquer all the bastions at once, even if they had their new war machines. Was it overconfidence or something else that was driving them this far? Tucker couldn't come up with an answer, but if there was one thing he knew, it was that there were larger forces at play. One he couldn't possibly imagine, and knowing this, he tightly clenched onto the area before his heart. All he could do now was focus on what was before him. And to do that, he needed to gather his men.