Dawn had barely touched the horizon when the air changed.
At first, it was only a whisper — the distant crackle of something burning. A few soldiers stirred in their bunks, half dreaming. Then the sound came again, sharper this time. A thunderous boom split the morning calm. The walls trembled.
"Enemy attack!" someone shouted.
The world erupted.
Arrows rained from the dark sky, streaking like falling stars. Fire spread through the stables, horses screaming as flames swallowed wood and hay. Soldiers stumbled from their quarters, half-armored, dragging swords still dull from yesterday's drills.
William's instincts screamed before his thoughts could catch up. He grabbed his weapon and burst into the courtyard. Smoke rolled like a storm, choking the air. All around him, chaos reigned — men shouting orders that vanished under the roar of fire.
The mansion — the heart of their command — was under siege.
Through the smoke, the General stood tall at the front steps, coat torn, blade drawn. His voice boomed across the yard.
"Form a line! Defend the courtyard!"
But the enemy was already pouring through the broken gates — shadows with crimson banners, blades flashing in the firelight. The clash of steel met the screams of the dying.
William joined the front without hesitation. His sword met flesh, his breath ragged, every heartbeat loud enough to drown the noise. For the first time, he felt the weight of real battle — not practice, not drills, but death breathing beside him.
Bodies fell. Friends he had eaten beside that morning were gone in moments. The air was thick with blood and ash.
A voice rose above the chaos — the General again, hoarse but unbroken. "Hold the line! Protect the command!"
His words carried strength, but William saw the wound blooming red across his side. The General was bleeding badly.
And behind him, at the mansion's shattered doorway, stood his daughter — pale, terrified, clutching her skirt as the battle closed in.
The General's gaze snapped toward William. For a heartbeat, time stopped.
He strode forward through the smoke, grabbed William by the arm, and spoke through gritted teeth.
"Take her," he ordered. "Get her out — now."
William froze. "But, sir—"
"That's an order!" the General barked, blood spilling down his uniform. His eyes softened only for an instant. "You have strength, boy. Not just in the arm — here." He pressed a trembling hand to William's chest. "Protect her. Live. Even if I cannot."
Another explosion tore through the courtyard, throwing dust and flame into the air.
William turned, wrapping his arm around the girl's shoulders. She trembled, her breath shallow. "Go!" the General shouted again. "Go, now!"
William hesitated for only a heartbeat — then ran. Through the smoke, through the screams, cutting through enemies that blocked their escape. Every step felt heavier, every shout behind him louder.
By the time they reached the far edge of the compound, the mansion was burning like a beacon — the roof collapsing, banners turning to ash.
The General's voice was gone.
William stood in the rain of embers, chest heaving, sword slick with blood. Beside him, the girl fell to her knees, eyes wide in disbelief.
He turned back once, watching the inferno devour the place that had become both prison and home.
His jaw tightened. His hands shook.
"I swear," he whispered, voice raw and breaking. "I'll protect you… and I'll make them pay for this."
The wind carried his words into the flames, and somewhere in that roaring fire, it felt as if the General had heard him.