The wind howled softly over the eastern shore, carrying fine grains of sand across the moonlit duhe night sky stretched endlessly above, a tapestry of stars casting a cold silver glow over the barren ndscape. In the distahe palm groves swayed gently, their dark silhouettes blending into the rolling hills beyond.

  Uhe heavily defended southern port, where Ravenna’s forces had littered the waters with debris to slow down enemy ships before crippling them with spring powered ballista fire, this beach offered no such advahe invaders would reize any unnatural obstru and flee before itting to ndfall.

  Here, a different strategy was required.

  John crouched low irench, the cool steel of his spygss pressed against his eye as he sed the horizon. The sea shimmered uhe moonlight, its surface disturbed only by the slow-moving shadows of the ining ships. He could make out four vessels, their dark sails blending into the night, creeping toward the shore with deliberate caution.

  His grip tightened around the spygss.

  They were ing. He turned his head slightly and whispered to the knights hidden alongside him.

  “As soon as their horses pass through here, jump down a loose every bolt in your rapid-fire crossbows. Don’t hesitate. Take down as many as you before drawing your swords,” he instructed, his voice barely above the wind’s whisper.

  A hushed murmur of aowledgment spread among the soldiers as they adjusted their positions, gripping their ons in anticipation.

  The pn was simple but deadly.

  The enemy would nd uhe cover of darkness, believing this remote beach to be unguarded. They would quickly disembark, mount their horses, and rush toward the city, eager to catch its defenders unaware. That moment—when they were least prepared for resistance—was when John’s squad would strike.

  The knights hidden on the dunes would rain dowh with their crossbows the moment the enemy cavalry charged through the pass. At the same time, the crews manning the ballistas irenches would unleash a devastating barrage aimed directly at the stationary ships, destroying their masts before the invaders could retreat.

  It was a brutal and calcuted ambush, desigo strike fear into the hearts of the enemy and leave them stranded on hostile shores.

  John exhaled slowly, steadying his nerves as he returned his gaze to the approag ships. The vessels were beginning to doow, their hulls scraping softly against the wet sand. Shadowed figures moved swiftly, unloading supplies and leading horses down wooden ramps onto the shore.

  Though the night obscured their features, John could see the distinct outlines of armored riders mounting their steeds, their movements sharp and disciplihe enemy ‘pirates’ wasted no time, f into tight ranks before turning toward the dunes.

  John tensed.

  They were nearly in position.He ducked lower into the trench, his fiightening around the wooden frame of the ballista. Around him, his men did the same, their breath shallow, their hands steady despite the tension thiing in the air.

  Then, amidst the howling wind, he heard it—the muffled thud of hooves against the soft sand.They were ing.

  John ched his jaw, his heart pounding like a war drum. He ted the beats in his head, waiting for the perfeent.

  Then, with a sharp breath, he gave the signal.

  “Now!”

  The stillness of the night shattered as a hail of crossbow bolts rained down from the dunes, slig through the air with deadly precision. The enemy riders, caught off guard, barely had time to react before bodies began falling from their saddles, blood staining the sah them.

  From above, the knights desded like wraiths, their swleaming uhe pale moonlight as they crashed into the disoriented enemy with ruthless efficy. The battle was swift and brutal, the cries of the wounded mingling with the csh of steel and the desperate whinnies htened horses.

  But John’s attention remained locked on the ships.

  He lifted his spygss, sing the vessels docked along the shore. Three of the four ships had already been crippled, their masts shattered by the devastating ballista fire. Yet oill stood tall, its sails unfurling as it began to drift bato the open sea.

  His stomach dropped.

  “The hell are you waiting for?! Reload and fire!” John barked, his voice cutting through the chaos.

  The ballista crews, despite the din of bat eg from below, obeyed his and without hesitation. They worked quickly, leveraging the power of the newly designed spring-loaded ballistas, allowing for faster reloading pared to traditional models.

  The first shot was loosed with a twang of steel and wood, but it missed—sailing harmlessly past the retreating ship.

  John gritted his teeth. “Damn it! Aim properly! We ’t let them escape!”

  The ballista teams adjusted, their hands moving with frantic precision as they took aim once more. Two more bolts were fired in rapid succession. This time, they struck true.

  The mast splintered apart with a thunderous crack, sending shards of wood flying as the structure colpsed onto the deck, bringing the ship to a dead stop.

  Joh out a victorious shout, his men joining in the cheers. “That’s it! They’re done for now!”

  But their celebration was cut short by a frantic voice from below.

  “Vice Captain John!” A knight’s urgent call rose above the sounds of battle. “They tricked us!”

  John’s heart lurched.

  What?

  Without wasting a sed, he slid down the dune, sand kig up around him as he rushed toward the source of the arm. He found one of his knights kneeling over a fallen enemy, his face pale, his hands trembling as he poi the corpse.

  John’s breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight.

  The so-called enemy soldier was battered armor, his body still and lifeless, an iron colr ed tightly around his neck. Faint magical runes glowed along its surface, firming John’s worst fear.

  A servitude spell. These weren’t enemy pirates. They were sves.

  John’s stomach twisted.

  “They… they sent the sves disguised as them” the knight stammered, his voice heavy.

  John’s eyes widened as realization dawned on him like a hammer to the skull.

  The enemy hadn’t ridden into the ambush themselves. They had used the sves—dressed in armor, armed with sed-rate ons—as nothing more than on fodder to fool them.

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