Using his own eyes, Panta looked down at the map placed over the Command Table's surface, taking in how the entire deployment of his legion had changed. After the collapse of the First Ring Wall hours ago, Panta completely gave up trying to hide his actions.

  The false troop maneuvers to the Command Table were wiped clean, making it nothing more than a basic map of the Triad and surrounding area. Using a parchment map was less accurate, but Panta would sooner employ a secure sub-optimal alternative than the compromised table.

  On the positive side, using the map became more manageable once the union was established, and it became clear that the suppressive force enveloping the city was now gone. Not that he was entirely pleased with that particular discovery, as there were hours of cautious actions before he was informed of the situation.

  The short of it was that it took far longer than it should have for the reports of the scouts who ended up in the massive tunnel network beneath their feet to reach him. And it took just as long for the report of the remnants of the three centuries from the 9th cohort, and apparently, the Reaper living in his city, to arrive as well.

  Both stories, in their own ways, were worthy of acknowledgment and acclaim. A fact Panta would not forget after this battle was over. Because if it wasn't for them, he had doubts about whether his plan would have worked at all.

  The blows they dealt to the Letairry were staggering individually, and together, they were devastating. The jade pillar would make the fight all but impossible against the dark elves if it was drawn out and spread out, as coordination and communication would be limited to how fast feet could run.

  The competence of commanders in carrying out their orders unsupervised would predetermine many fights, especially with limited to no training under such conditions. Panta had no faith that such events would work out in the legion's favor, and he would spend much time addressing the matter in the coming days.

  And then there was Redgenald, commandeering the centuries for his mission, which was the best call, even if it rankled him to have his men follow another's commands. Putting aside how his actions prevented a devastating blow to morale and the negative shift in the course of the battle that would have occurred after a wall collapse with all of its defenders before an advancing foe — which was no small matter — Panta could now plan his defenses around the destruction of the walls. At first, he was guessing there were other sapping chambers built, but now he had two separate reports, one from the scouts encountering a long hollow chamber and the other from Redgenald's mind-reaping.

  Supplied with that information, Panta set about destroying Southtown. Any report of a tunnel in the outer rings would mean the collapse of every nearby building and the formation of roadblocks around the location. The heavy-handed approach meant that all those civilians hiding would be thrown out of their homes — the ones who hadn't already fled, at least — but nothing could be done about that.

  Instead of welcoming the potential security risks and having an uprising in their midsts at an inopportune time, by gathering the refugees into the forts, those too weak to fight were moved through the Triad in a steady stream across the river to the western side of the Rush and outside the fort's walls. For those who were of a fighting age, many of them demanded the right to take up arms and fight for their homes before being asked.

  As was typical around a legion, stories had spread like wildfire, and everyone within Southtown had heard exaggerated tails of what was going on. Specifically, who and what was tearing the city apart by using its own citizens. The hearsay made the goblins into vicious, bloodthirsty monsters and the dark elves into mind-controlling wraiths, but Panta didn't care overly much about the stories.

  There were some issues, as those with elven blood were persecuted by their neighbors, many of them being beaten to death by the mobs before legionaries could arrive. The main saving grace was that the population of elves within the city was small, so there were few casualties.

  Besides those isolated areas, the news of their foe gave those cowering in their homes at the fighting something they could lash out at instead of the nebulous concept of the dissatisfied destitute in the slums. Steel entered their spines as the fear of some rogue reaper terrorizing their city morphed into a tangible attack.

  Volunteers appeared by the thousands, half from rage at citizens being controlled to kill each other and the other half from fear, as they had nowhere to flee. North was the Kin that no one really trusted. South and East were the Letairry, and the Western Planes were being flooded with roving bands of beastkin.

  So, the citizens surged forward. They came in such numbers that the fort didn't contain a large enough surplus of weapons and armor to properly outfit the tens of thousands of men clambering to fight. It wasn't that serious of a problem, as most men retained a spear or sword in their homes, remnants passed down through the family or a memento from their own years of service.

  Not that there weren't those who could only find a long pointed stick for a weapon, but they weren't as many as there would have been in other cities. Everyone in the Triad was fully aware that their walls would be the first to be hit by a hoard of beastkin, and in the back of their minds were the old stories of hoards being able to carpet the land as far as you could see.

  It was a significant part of the reason the city experienced a steady outflow of inhabitants once its relevance dropped. Still, that same fear meant everyone who remained usually kept a weapon or two on hand.

  Even if all a man had to offer as a weapon was a pointed stick, it was still better to have them than not. The main benefit of the militia wasn't their fighting abilities but the psy they provided to the legion. That reserve alone more than made up for any lack they might have with their gear, stamina, and training. With the psy provided by the volunteers, they could now reshape the city.

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  The first task Panta gave out was to his Prime Cohort, the veterans with the strongest psy abilities in his legion. Their task was simple if the hardest to fulfill and implement.

  All they had to do was hold the main roadway through the city. The road that Panta expected the main thrust of the Letairry attack to appear along. Piles of stone were being pushed together every hundred feet, mostly gathered from the buildings along the sides of the road that were partially collapsed for material.

  The key word in there was "partially," as the buildings along the main boulevard were designed for archers to fire down from them like battlements. With that thought in mind, the buildings along the streets were constructed with extra thick walls, and the street had few intersecting roads and no alleys, making it a funnel.

  The perfect defense to cut down wave after wave of beastkins while falling back to the next wall. It wouldn't work out as well in this fight, given that this foe wasn't mindless, but it was still the fastest and most direct path to the second ring's outer wall.

  In every other part of the city, similar events were taking place. This battle would not be one where they held the walls and beat back attacking waves. The dark elves had already seen to that, and if Panta was honest, it didn't fit that well into his plans either. So, he decided to go another route.

  There would be no siege of the city, and he could not deploy his legions in the field for a head-on fight. Panta could only justify such actions with proper intelligence, such as knowledge of their location and preferably reports of the enemy's disposition and numbers to properly deploy his troops against them.

  Without such knowledge, he would not hastily take such actions. Even if the Kin told him the location of the Letairry camp, Panta did not trust them sufficiently to act on the intelligence with blind faith, so he would pull the dark elves into the city and charge them for every foot of ground they took with their blood.

  Every blockade would be a wall, and every street intersection would be a field to muster their strength. Alleys were their canyons, while the rooftops were clifftops with sheer sides. Committing to such a battle had its pros and cons.

  On the somewhat bright side, given how everyone will be spread out and often trying to hide before launching a surprise attack, communications will be limited. That fact was frankly a mixture of good and bad, but it had the decidedly positive effect of making it so no single engagement would spell the end of the fighting and routing of the legionaries. The engagement in Southtown Panta was setting up would be a battle that should last for days and a clean-up that could possibly last months longer.

  Depending on how things played out, another major boon or bane of this kind of fight was the number of lives it would claim. Either they would cut a massive slice from the Letairry army or be quickly ground into nothing.

  That wasn't to say that Panta didn't have the Southtown fort as a last line of defense to hold out within, but he was sure that the dark elves had something unpleasant planned if they made it that far. Not that it changed much, as he had to hold the fort and city.

  While he distributed his cohorts into the rings of the city, he had to call on the Senatorial Guard for support. Four reserve cohorts stationed within the Southern Fort went a long way, but he couldn't take any more from them, as the Guard needed most of their strength to hold the other forts and implement their portion of the plan.

  Not that Panta could fortify Southtown and move his units into position without any resistance. The thralls appeared at every turn, but their numbers were far lower than before as thousands lay dead, which made them far more dangerous.

  Instead of the dark elves hiding in the city having to control thousands of individuals, they had hundreds, meaning they could concentrate far more on each fighter. Instead of the thralls moving like puppets, they actually looked like living beings, though they were still taking actions that no sane person would. There were few circumstances where someone was willing to die for the sake of taking another being with them.

  As the day wore on and the legionaries solidified their positions, goblins began showing up, causing a nuisance of themselves. It was rare that they would attack directly, but they were seen darting through the shadows, attempting to start fires or collapsing buildings onto legionaries.

  Some of the creatures had short bows, and they would appear to let loose a volley or two before slipping into shadows again. If they were chased, the odds were they were leading their pursuers into a trap. The traps ranged from collapsing the ground into a cavern to simply having their brethren positioned to surround the force when it appeared.

  And as the day stretched from late morning into evening, the traps became more nasty and elaborate. By now, the legionaries didn't even want to chase after the creatures as they huddled behind their shields, waiting for the legion archers to arrive or the goblins to give up.

  It bred resentment within the militia and legionaries, and when they were given a chance, they would willingly take their frustrations out on the creatures. Their severed head placed on spikes seemed to infuriate the goblins, leading them to pick up their harassment of the legionaries.

  The situation was one that he could do little about, as Panta had intentionally decentralized his command and troops, basically leaving his cohorts to survive or die in their zones on their own. But as of half an hour ago, all the attacks and harassment stopped out of nowhere.

  Panta and everyone else didn't see it as a good sign, even if it allowed many of their positions to finish up reinforcing their defenses. Why would an enemy attacking them for hours suddenly stop? Because they were gathering their forces and coordinating before kicking off a significant push.

  If he had to guess, and he was, Panta would say that their attack would happen sometime around sunset, which was a matter of minutes away. Taking a moment to relax, he lifted the mug on his side table to his lips, gulping down a mouthful of the strong tea. The taste was bitter, but he felt a wave washing over his mind and through his body, sweeping away most of his fatigue. It wasn't all of it, but he could feel himself thinking better, even if there was a price to pay later if he consumed too much of the substance.

  "Are we ready?" Quineeta asked in a quiet voice to his side.

  Opening his eyes, Panta looked at the younger woman. He could see the fear she was trying to hide in how tightly her hands were clasped together. The uncertainty in her head constantly moved as her eyes flicked around the map. And the guilt in her slightly hunched shoulders. Despite the height she had reached within the legion, the woman had never been in command of a significant battle where thousands would die if they were lucky.

  "As well as we can be," Panta reassured. "There is only so much we can do, as we only control half the battle. You should remember a good commander is determined by their ability to plan and coordinate their troops, and a great commander is determined by their ability to adapt."

  “…Which one are you?"

  "Don't know, that is for history to decide." Panta looked up with a slight curl of his lips and a twinkle in his eyes. "So let's make ourselves look good, aye?"

  Quineeta smiled back in return but was cut off by a distant rumbling. Closing his eyes, Panta sucked in a deep breath before letting it out through his nose. At its end, his eyes opened in conjunction with the sound petering out, and he asked in a calm and level tone, "How many breaches are there in the outer wall, and what are the estimates for our foe's numbers?"