𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘. 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.
It's the beginning of a new age when Jaylah Imperatrix seemingly returns from the dead to reclaim her throne. And in perfect timing.
In her absence, evil has be...
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Act 4 Chapter 146 JAYLAH
Due to the sheer amount of things that needed to be done in the following days, Jaylah did not have a spare moment to check the camp for Zensa or Adelié. The dead and missing were still being counted and logged. Men kept dying in the hundreds from the injuries they sustained during the ambush.
Four days after the unexpected attack, Jaylah had her army march on the Navrikans again. They were headed a bit further south where the land was tamer and had no cliffside to be used against them. With their spy dead, they would never expect her to retaliate so soon. In fact, there was no doubt they thought this war was as good as won. Why should they believe otherwise? Jaylah had been losing every battle week after week. They were nearly at the capital.
This was her last stand.
Jaylah's limbs shook as she led her army, not caring how exposed she was on the front line. Yanni was back behind city walls. Her men needed a vigilant leader, even if the only thing she was leading them to was the arms of death.
Looking down at the expanse of open land in the minor valley before them, she might have once prayed to the Gods for victory, for minimal damage. But she had seen the way They sat back and watched as her people were extinguished like a million flames blown out with the wind. When she lost it was her own fault, yet when she won she was meant to give the victory to Them? Selfish Gods wanted all the glory. She could not blame Them, because she now wanted it all for herself too.
The dark line in the distance became crimson. She took a moment to marvel at the sheer amount of men they had, all new young boys. Jaylah was only nineteen—nearly twenty—and she had led masses into battle time and time again. She had wiped out their greatest enemy all by herself. They might have also been too young for war, but those boys never stood a chance against her talent.
She had her men stop a hundred meters from the river that carved through the valley's center. They had the cover of trees at their backs. The Navrikans were sitting ducks in a pond of sparse, flat land.
Still, she did not yet give the order for her men to attack. A breeze cooled the back of her neck. The simple knot of hair at her nape hurt her head as usual, but she had headaches so often nowadays she no longer noticed. She had not eaten more than one meal a day for a month; she had slept even less. But she was not weak. Never weak.
She waited until the Navrikans were on the opposite side of the river, their boots against the riverbank as they judged how deep the fast-moving water was. Their cannons, heavy enough to require four men to maneuver each one, were far back on the gentle slope behind the army just in case Jaylah proved to be more difficult than usual. They would have to be strategic about their aiming if they did not want to murder their own men.
Jaylah's eyes remained on the river, clear as glass as it splashed over itself in its haste. She would tint it crimson. At last, this could truly be a second Red War.
