The village of Merod, nestled beneath a low hill and surrounded by a dense forest, was eerily silent. There was no sound of children playing, women singing, or men working in their fields. All civilians had been swiftly and orderly evacuated to a neighboring village under the supervision of Kisor's soldiers. The houses remained empty, doors shut, and windows dark, as if the village itself held its breath, awaiting the coming storm.
In the heart of this deserted village, Kisor's forces, numbering 3,000 soldiers, camped in absolute silence. General Sevara led them personally, his face reflecting intense concentration. Tents were carefully pitched, soldiers moved quietly, preparing their weapons and reviewing their plans. The ten 24-pounder culverin cannons were expertly hidden among the dense trees, covered with huge black cloths, as if they were part of the forest itself. 500 elite soldiers, armed with the new flintlock pistols, were positioned in strategic locations, awaiting the signal.
Sevara moved among his soldiers, patting a shoulder here, exchanging a look of trust there. His eyes read a mix of tension and determination on their faces. They had trained long for this moment. They had proven their strength at Mount Caver and Sigret, and now it was time to show it again.
"Remember the training, soldiers," Sevara whispered to one of the battalion commanders. "Discipline is the key to victory. Do not fire without my command. Surprise is our strongest weapon."
The scent of damp earth, fallen leaves, and faint campfire smoke filled the air. Everything was ready. The ambush was perfectly set.
Elsewhere, just 9 kilometers from Merod, a massive force of 7,000 soldiers camped in an area called Rabbit's Knoll. The area was a wide plain interspersed with some low hills, named for the abundance of rabbits that roamed it. Their commander was General Marioth, a large man with harsh features, leading Prince Geral's army.
Inside his command tent, Marioth discussed with his commanders. A map was spread on the table, but their focus wasn't on the surrounding terrain, but on Lionji.
"The pirates in Lionji must be suppressed immediately," Marioth said, his voice booming. "That city belongs to Prince Geral now. We must secure it before that Viscount Zidan lays his hands on it."
"My Lord General, our reports indicate that the pirates aren't numerous," one of the commanders said. "Perhaps 600 men. We can crush them easily."
"Certainly," Marioth said, a confident smile on his face. "But we must move quickly. We don't want to give Zidan any chance to intervene. Are there any obstacles on our way to Lionji?"
"Nothing significant, My Lord General," another commander said. "We will pass through the villages of Sidrah and Merod. Both are small villages, with no significant resistance. The path is clear."
Marioth and his commanders didn't realize that an ambush awaited them just a few kilometers away. They were consumed by their overconfidence, and their perception that Zidan was just a minor noble with no real power.
Outside, the rest of the soldiers were enjoying themselves. They hunted the rabbits that roamed the area in abundance, lit small fires, and cheerfully roasted rabbit meat. The smell of roasted meat filled the air, mingled with the soldiers' boisterous laughter. They thought they were on an easy military stroll, to conquer a ruined city and crush a few pirates.
After a two-hour break, Marioth ordered his forces to move immediately. "Soldiers! It's time to move! Towards Lionji! Glory to Prince Geral!"
The shouts of the soldiers erupted, and Marioth's massive army, 7,000 strong, began to advance north towards Lionji. The ground trembled beneath their feet, and their armor gleamed in the sunlight. They advanced in huge formations, confident of their victory, unaware that they were marching towards a death trap.
Meanwhile, in the heart of Merod's forest, Sevara watched the horizon. Suddenly, a shadow moved swiftly among the trees. It was Alfredo, Marion's deputy, one of Zidan's most skilled spies. His face was covered in dirt, and his eyes gleamed with exhaustion, but he carried crucial news.
Alfredo ran towards Sevara and bowed before him. "My Lord Commander! They've arrived! Marioth's forces are just a few kilometers away! They're advancing quickly towards Merod!"
Sevara tensed. The moment had come.
"Well done, Alfredo," Sevara said, his voice calm yet carrying an unmistakable tone of command. "Return to Marion and tell him the plan is proceeding as scheduled."
Then Sevara turned to his commanders. "Soldiers! It's time to prepare! Prepare the forces! Prepare the cannons! Prepare the bombs! It's time for the ambush! It's time to show Kisor's true strength!"
The order spread quickly through the ranks of Kisor's soldiers. The calm that had enveloped the village turned into frantic activity, but it was organized, silent, and deadly activity. The soldiers prepared the cannons, loaded the projectiles, and prepared to unleash the power of gunpowder. The atmosphere was charged with tension, but it was also filled with determination. They had been waiting for this moment, the moment to crush Marioth's army and prove that Kisor was not just a small town, but a force to be reckoned with.
Marioth's army advanced, laughing and hunting rabbits, unaware that the real rabbits were waiting for them in Merod.