The mountain wind howled in Lord Starodavniy's weary eyes as he surveyed the column of soldiers winding its way through the treacherous Kylian Mines. Sharp rocks jutted from the path, biting at the soldier's boots. Above them, the mountain peaks clawed at the sky, their shadows swallowing the column whole. The air, thin and biting, carried the chilling whisper of wind, a constant reminder of their isolation.
Starodavniy, despite his age, rode at the forefront, his weathered face a mask of grim determination. He trusted Koal's grand strategy about as far as he could throw a boulder, but duty, and the promise of Kyllian steel, compelled him. He glanced back at the snaking line of two hundred men, half of his City State's Army.
As the days blended into each other, the strain of poor logistics began to show. Men grew restless, their nerves frayed by the constant threat of avalanches and unseen dangers. Food rations dwindled, and the biting wind seemed to seep into their very bones. He had to keep them focused. He needed to remind them of what awaited them on the other side of these mountains: the riches of Kylia, the power they craved, and the chance to finally break free from the kingdom's suffocating thumb.
One morning, huddled around a meager fire within a small, relatively sheltered cave, Starodavniy addressed his captain, a hardened warrior named Zakryty.
"How far, Zakryty?" he asked, his voice raspy.
Zakryty consulted a worn map. "Till mid sun, Lord Starodavniy, if we keep up this pace. We'll be beyond the main passes, descending into the Kylian lowlands."
"And what then?" Starodavniy pressed, his gaze unwavering.
"Surprise, Lord Starodavniy. We move swiftly, silently, strike at key crossroads and watchtowers. Before they even know we are there, we will be at their doorstep."
Starodavniy nodded, a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. "Good. But remember, we are not here for plunder. Our target is the city. We hit fast, hit hard, and rout their communications. The longer they have to react, the greater the risk to us all."
Unbeknownst to both of them, a shadow flickered above just beyond the clouds. A Kylian Lavovy ranger, separated from his patrol during a scouting mission, had stumbled upon their camp.
Understanding the importance of his discovery, the ranger quickly retreated into the blizzard.
…
Standing on the bank of the Roscof River, Kylia held a neatly rolled scroll sealed with a stark black sideways K sigil. Opening it, a frown etching lines into her otherwise serene face.
"Starodavniy of Kokhavor, what a smart man," she murmured, the name a faint whisper in the bustling encampment.
Starodavniy, she thought. He understands the element of surprise. He's leading his troops through the most treacherous route, a path thought impassable at this time of year. Napoleon-like maneuver. If the Kingdom of Kylia had been any other normal Valor State, an attack from three fronts, north, west and east, would have pushed the Kingdom beyond its limits. A ghost of a smile touched her lips. She admired cunning, even when it was directed against her.
Even with the poor execution of the Rishkan Navy, the Kingdom of Kylia would suffer heavy losses once Starodavniy slips into the Kylian heartland. The majority of Kylia's resource industry lies at or near the Kylian Mines, including an expensive 10 km railroad that Kylia has been investing in over the years. In total, twenty years worth of heavy investment lies in the area, losing it will be both crippling to the military and civilian capabilities of Kylia.
The Kylian Mines are also strategically important to the security of Kylian territory. The Kylian Mines protect the Kingdom of Kylia from northerly threats just like how the Alps protect Italy from the rest of europe.
While Kylia does mention the Kylian Mines being "small," its size is comparable to the Alps around 200,000 square kilometers. The reason Kylia mentions the Kylian Mines as small is because the Viskov Mountain Range nearby to the north is twenty times larger, occupying an area of 4 million square kilometers. The Gerudo Mountain Range stretches 10,000 kilometers, about the length of the US-Canadian border. The Rosa Basin Mountain Range to the east is the longest, stretching 20,000 kilometers, its area uncountable.
Compared to the colossal Viskov, Gerudo, and Rosa Basin Ranges, the Kylian Mines at best were a small hill, but really important nevertheless.
Captain Yuter, ever vigilant, noticed her change in demeanor. "Your Majesty? Is there a problem?"
Kylia handed him the scroll. "A scout has confirmed a Coalition detachment traversing the Kylian mine passages, led by Lord Starodavniy himself. Estimated strength, approximately two hundred."
Yuters's brow furrowed. "Two hundred? A token force. Why risk such a perilous route for so few?" He looked up, realization dawning. "They intend to bypass our defenses at the Roscof. They're aiming for the city directly."
Kylia nodded grimly. "They believe they can cripple our command structure, spread chaos, and force a surrender before our main armies can react. A serpent striking at the heart, while the body is distracted."
Yuter slammed a fist on a supply wagon, the sound echoing throughout the clearing. "Dammit! That guy is smarter than Rosa!"
"Indeed," Kylia agreed at the expense of her sister. "Both the Blue Army and Kylian Air Force are pinned to the western front and are too far to intervene, so we can't rely on them. I heard General Morsʹkyy of the Kylian Marines has been bored lately, a train ride to the Kylian Mines is more than enough to cure depression, especially when paired with rifles and gunfire."
Kylia smiled, a glint of steel in her eyes. "Send the message to General Mors'kyy. It seems our landlocked marines are about to get a mountain excursion."
"They're here!"
The cry ripped through the encampment, a frantic counterpoint to the already frantic activity. Mud sloshed as soldiers scrambled to their positions, cannons and rifles loading, a somber rhythm against the backdrop of the impending battle.
On the distant horizon, a dark line had solidified, resolving into the unmistakable shapes of advancing enemy troops. The Coalition army, finally appearing on the western front, a vast wave of spears and shields.
The battle had begun.