The wind outside Gale Citadel scraped against the stone like knives on old shields. Within the War Hall, the banners of the Gale Army hung still and silent. Crystalline map-markers pulsed faintly atop the central war table, illuminating the edges of a campaign not yet fought.
Altan stood alone at the head of the room. Behind him, the steward waited in stillness, hands clasped, scrolls and etched command slabs resting beside him.
"Summon the commanders," Altan said.
The steward moved swiftly. Within moments, Khulan entered first, armor fitted tight, saber strapped across her back. She bowed and took her place to the right of the war table. Burgedai followed, his steps slow but rooted.
Altan placed his hand over the etched sigil at the center of the war table. Lines of light stirred beneath the surface, ancient glyphs glowing to life one by one. A spectral map unfurled above the stone, flickering with runic coordinates, shifting ley-lines, and ghost-lit symbols marking sea routes, inland trails, and fortress nodes.
The commanders watched in silence as the map pulsed to full clarity, the runes steady now, awaiting command.
"We start preparations now. Recruitment, supply coordination, drill rotations. Reinforce the watchtowers along the borders and all roads leading into the Gale nation. Any foreigner attempting entry is to be questioned. Reason for travel, origin, and affiliations. It is possible the Dazhun Empire has already inserted spies into our territory."
He paused.
"One month. That is our window. The number we gather and how many pass the trials will determine the next stage."
He traced a glowing arc eastward from the coast. The path pulsed in response.
"Next phase is locked until then. Once we confirm who's ready to move, we act."
"The Zhong exiles have aligned with the Dazhun Empire. Their fleets are massing beyond the Western Sea. Our watchers at the Salt Spires confirm a harbor-fortress is under construction. Ground units are moving into position behind it."
He tapped a glowing line crossing from the sea toward the eastern interior.
"Their objective is simple. Push east, fast. Skip negotiations. Timeline, less than a year."
No one responded.
Altan looked to Khulan. "You leave before nightfall. Ride to the Twelve Tribes. Collect fighters with potential. Ten percent of each tribe's strength. No more."
He shifted to Burgedai. "You'll accompany her. Filter for control under pressure. No hotheads. No ego."
They both gave a single nod.
Altan continued. "Stormguard shamans will run elemental affinity tests. Gale veterans will handle the physical and tactical assessments. Anyone who passes both joins the Citadel roster. One month deadline."
He handed a scroll to the steward. "Send this to Prime Minister Qiu. This isn't a request. All Free Cities must begin militia readiness. Select the best. Forward them here. The rest stay to guard local territories."
A white-cloaked Hospitalier warden stepped forward and accepted the scroll with a bow. The serpent and chain sigil on his armor caught the light before he disappeared into the hall.
Altan looked across the table.
"As of this day, the Gale Nation is on war footing. Every citizen not enlisted is assigned a role. Blacksmiths, bowyers, fletchers, each village will report daily arrow quotas. War bows will be forged. Children old enough to string a bow will train. The elderly, if they can still draw, will instruct. Everyone contributes. No idle hands."
Altan turned to Stormwake Batu, the scout commander. His hawk remained silent on his shoulder.
"Stormwake. The Stormguard needs a fast messaging system. I want you to begin designing a signal-message detachment. Something that can relay critical orders across mountains, rivers, and fronts without delay."
Stormwake inclined his head. "You want the Qorjin-Ke involved?"
"Yes," Altan replied. "We need to harness their speed. Ask if they can provide fast flying beasts. Something reliable, trainable. The Stormguard will create a code system. Short, encrypted bursts. Simple signals. We need a pulse of command that moves faster than a scout's horse."
Stormwake thought for a moment, then spoke.
"The Qorjin-Ke have bred skyfliers before. Not war beasts, but messengers. The sharp-beaked vahir might do. Small, fast, and responsive to imprinting. Taming is possible."
"Begin preparations," Altan ordered. "We'll need them in the weeks ahead. When the campaign begins, every hour will count."
Altan gave a final nod.
"That's it. Move."
The War Hall cleared in disciplined silence. Only the map remained, glowing quietly over stone.
The storm had not begun, but it was close.