I. The March and The Anthemic Panic
Vael, the reluctant Poet-Commander, was mounted on a specially appointed warhorse—a massive, black beast that made him look even smaller and more ridiculous in his jeweled robes. The horse itself seemed offended by his presence.
This is it, Vael thought, clinging to the overly ornate saddle. I'm riding into a massacre, dressed like a runaway Christmas ornament.
The 100 Royal Guards, disciplined and silent, formed a tight square around Vael and his six warrior wives. As the command to march was given, the soldiers began to sing their standard marching anthem, their voices deep and resolute:
"We protect this land from the enemy! We fight for the Kingdom's glory! We stand before the line, ready to die! And our Commander shall be the first to kill the foe!"
Vael froze, his heart slamming against his ribs. The first to kill? They want me to lead the charge!
Vael quickly raised his hand, halting the entire army. He cleared his throat, trying to sound like a natural leader.
"Hold! New anthem! We must modify the lyrics to reflect the strategic deployment!" Vael declared nervously.
He started the new chant, emphasizing the parts that meant his survival:
"We protect this land from the enemy! We fight for the Kingdom's glory! Our Commander is too strategically vital to be in the fray! He observes the lines from safely far away! We will not let him die for us! We protect the Commander for the Kingdom!"
The 100 Guards looked confused, but Captain Rylan, convinced of Vael's divine intellect, immediately shouted: "A glorious tactical amendment! Sing the new verse, men! The Commander must be preserved!"
Relieved, Vael settled back, surrounded by the chaotic, conflicting advice of his Harem. Serana insisted on a rapid, forced march, while Princess Kira demanded stops every two hours for Vael to admire "the poetic beauty of the roadside fauna," much to the fury of Lyra's statistically planned logistics.
II. The Bandit Encounter and The Harem's Display
The march was interrupted by a small band of seven highwaymen. They saw the tiny army and, more importantly, the gold-laden Poet-Commander on the giant horse.
Vael's terror spiked. This is where I die!
Before Vael could even scream, Astra, Seraphina, and Lyra charged. The six wives annihilated the bandits in less than thirty seconds. Vael, sitting safely in the center of the formation, could only watch.
"See, My King!" Princess Kira said, beaming. "You didn't even have to move! Your presence alone frightened them!"
Vael's inner monologue was grim: They were small-time highwaymen. This does not prepare me for a thousand organized warriors.
III. Stonegate and The Cowards
Upon reaching the edge of the besieged city of Stonegate, the situation was worse than Vael imagined. The enemy army of 1,000 was perfectly disciplined, surrounding the city walls.
Vael sought out the 200 City Warriors who were supposed to be defending Stonegate from within and joining his relief effort.
He found them huddled in a broken tavern. They weren't cleaning weapons or checking defenses; they looked like a defeated mob waiting for the first opportunity to run. Their faces were hollow, their morale non-existent.
They won't fight, Vael realized with a sinking heart. They are waiting for someone to give them permission to flee. I am leading 106 people into a slaughter.
Vael knew he had to try one last desperate measure: poetry. He climbed onto a rain barrel and prepared his most stirring poem.
"Who dies before Death, is already weak!
Weakness is not the loss of muscle or might,
But the surrender of the spirit to fright!
Death is not when the breath leaves the chest,
Death is when you turn your back on the test!
Brave men of the City! Cowards shall flee!
Three hundred men stand against the tyranny!
Do not hide! Do not yield! Today, we will fight!
For the Kingdom and the sanctity of right!"
The poem was surprisingly effective. The 200 City Warriors looked up, eyes shining with renewed (if terrified) zeal. Vael had succeeded in forcing them to fight!
IV. The Reversal of Strategic Observation
Vael returned to his camp, feeling a flicker of pride—he had won one small victory with his words.
He found Captain Rylan looking at him with almost fanatic reverence.
"Commander!" Rylan exclaimed, saluting deeply. "You are incredible! You have galvanized the broken City Warriors! Now, we must attack! We need you to lead the vanguard!"
"Lead the vanguard?" Vael squeaked. "Captain, I am the Strategic Observer! I must stand on the hill to command the battle's flow!"
"Exactly!" Captain Rylan nodded vigorously. "Sir, we have discussed your Divine Plan. The enemy will see you—the tiny, Divine Commander—and believe you are their weakness! They will focus on taking you out!"
Rylan continued, utterly serious. "Therefore, your six brave Captains (your wives) will stand behind you! When the enemy charges to kill you, they will run directly into your six elite bodyguards! It is brilliant! You are the bait, Commander!"
Vael stared, his mind fracturing. Bait? He thinks I'm bait!
"No, Captain Rylan! That is not the plan!" Vael protested weakly.
Captain Rylan stepped closer, his voice dropping to a confidential whisper. "Sir, I understand. Your modesty prevents you from accepting the role. But listen: You are the most valuable person here. If we send me, I will be killed, and the army loses its Captain. If we send you, you are replaceable. But your six warriors are not. Your wives are too strong to be wasted on a charge! You must go first."
Vael's final hope shattered. He realized Rylan, a simple, brave man, had applied a terrible, cold logic to his new role. Vael was just a distraction to save the more valuable warriors.
Tears welled up in Vael's eyes—tears of fear, tears of frustration. He had to lead the charge into certain death.
He looked at his wives, who were nodding in agreement with Rylan's "brilliant strategy."
He took a deep breath, wiped the tears, and forced his face into a mask of brave resignation.
"Vael, the Poet-Commander, was the bait. And thus, he marched toward the Thousand, knowing his words had created his doom, and his most logical decision was simply to die."